The War on Christianity Taking the Fight to the Christian Right |
I was laying on the couch in the living room of our ranch house in Oregon. It was a nice house on four acres, private and secluded. My wife had gone off to watch a movie in town. I was bored and lonely, as I laid there recuperating from the previous evenings drunk. I thought of all the things I could do, eat, watch TV, or maybe a canned movie, but nothing seemed interesting enough to move me from the couch. I just lay there in the afternoon heat. And then the twitching began. This was not a new sensation. All my life I've had this problem with my calves. Often when I sat still for very long, my calves would begin to twitch, and then the pain would begin. The pain felt very much like the pain one feels when one's foot goes to sleep, the pain caused by waking it up again. Only my legs had not gone to sleep. The twitching continued. I shook my legs fast, up and down, kicking into the couch. The twitching abated for a time. And I thought, what is the source of this pain? Every time it had come up before over the last twenty years, I had pushed it down, as far and as fast as possible. I really do need to find out what this is, and the only way to do it is to feel it, I thought. It will hurt like hell, fear said, from somewhere inside me. Yes, it will, I thought back, as my legs began to twitch again. And for the first time in my life, I didn't try to force it away from me. I laid there focusing my attention on my calves, and allowed it to go on. Then the pain began. It started out small, a dull ache, first in the left calve, and then the right. "Ohhh," I moaned softly, into the throw pillow I was clutching. The pain seemed to intensify, as though the vibration of the sound helped to quicken the awakening. The dull ache grew into a powerful throbbing ache. "Aghhh," I cried louder into the pillow. Then a sharp pain shot up through my heals, through my calves and back, all the way up to my neck. My body arched involuntarily, as the pain lashed through my body. "Aghhh!" I screamed again, and again, and again. I was crying in earnest then, a river of tears flowing forth into the pillow. "Oh God!" I cried. "Oh God, it hurts so bad!" I could hardly breath, but for short gasping breaths. And yet another shot of incredible pain enveloped my body. "AGHHH!" I screamed with everything I had in me. "Please stop! Please…" I whimpered as yet another blow struck my body. What! The belt struck my thighs for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "Aghhh! No more, Daddy, please! I didn't mean to do it." The tears flowing down my face had drenched my shirt, as I stood there, hands against the wall. My entire backside was a mass of welts, on top of older welts. "Please, Daddy" I begged. "Please stop. I'll never do it again. I promice." What! "Aghhh!" I screamed again from the unbearable pain that seemed to be my whole universe. I fell to the floor, as my legs buckled, no longer able to hold myself up. I curled into a fetal position and got kicked hard in the ass, crashing my head against the wall. I laid there cringing in abject terror with my arms protecting my head. I was sure I was going to die. "Please, Daddy, I can't take anymore! I'll do anything you say…" I whimpered, thoroughly beaten into submission. What! The beating seemed to go on forever, endless torture, endless pain. It felt as though time itself had ceased to exist, and all there was, was unbearable agony. "Aghhh!" I screamed pulling myself up off the couch, into a sitting position. I couldn't take any more of this. I had to pull myself away from the memory of that day more than twenty years before. I clutched the pillow, gaining some comfort from its presence. I continued to sob softly, gathering strength. "I can't take any more of this right now," I said aloud, as I looked at the pillow. It was soaked with tears, spittle, and snot. I found that I couldn't breath through my nose. The pain had receded back to a dull ache. It seemed somehow content, as though the pressure had been taken off. I sat there shaking. It was a long time before I was able to compose myself. It has been several years, since I had that experience. And to this day, there remains locked away in the cellular membranes of my calves, a young boy in desperate need of aid and comfort. I hope someday to have the strength, the courage, and the fortitude, to go back to that place and heal the hurt incurred while growing up. But there is not longer any doubt, as to the true nature of the twitching.
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