Tell Ruth the Truth

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My life went off the rails because of the sexual revolution.

Did the "sexual revolution" adversely affect me? You bet it did. My parents emigrated from Ireland to NYC in 1958. They were "old school" when it came to matters regarding sex, which was basically never discussed, and was otherwise "dirty".

I came of age as the sexual revolution was ramping up. Even though I went to a Catholic grade school, and was surrounded by people who were mostly Catholic, the old faith was falling away fast. My parents’ generation was blind-sided by this, and rendered mostly impotent to do anything about it. I never stood a chance.


The first woman I had a relationship with had already have five (five!) previous sexual partners. Her parents went to church every week, too. This did not sit well with me, and I did not even understand why, at the time, it bothered me so. It took me years to get over it. But we stayed together and got married. Mistakes, on so many levels. But I was young and stupid and immature. And the sexual component was powerful. There was a lot of pre-martial sex and contraception. That these things were not aligned with Church teaching was not even entering my mind, I am so sorry to report.

This kind of thing was pervasive in the culture to the point where it seemed all too normal. You were, in fact, considered not normal if you were not "getting it on" in as little as three dates. In my own workplace, full of modern and hip twenty-somethings at that time, it was a regular practice to go out, on weeknights, to dance clubs, and such. I invited my then wife to come along, she wanted nothing to do with it. I went anyway. She caught a whiff of my impropriety and ended the marriage in shockingly rapid fashion. Her agenda to procreate was in jeopardy, and she was having none of it.

The woman I ended up with after getting that divorce herself, of course, had prior sexual partners. But worse, had an abortion when she was 17. This really sent me in a tailspin. It caused much friction in that relationship. Of course, I was continuing to be happy by engaging in extra-marital sex with this person. This tortured relationship would go on for 8 years before it mercifully ended (with her infidelity).

I was set on a lost path at that point, one I never wanted to be on. I would enter every relationship I took on with the "long haul" in mind, even if my partners in each case were not necessarily of the same mind. In the worst case, one young lady who was reaching the age of no longer being able to get pregnant safely, did get pregnant. Despite her professing that she would never have an abortion, she did. There is not much help for the men of post-abortion trauma. That relationship ended and she wanted no part of reconciling this tragedy. I carry the weight to this day, and will to my grave.

Some years after that, I got involved with a woman who was not happy with her marriage, even as she was trying to get pregnant via IVF (you can't make this stuff up)! She came after me in a big way, and eventually I relented. This was as close as I would come to a family of my own. I ended up loving that child, but when her mother’s hormones settled down, she was done with me, even as she lived under my roof and had an engagement ring on her finger. I was crushed.

All I can say is that my life went off the rails in a big way because of the "sexual revolution". The old ways were the right ways. Young people, please, don't ruin your life. God Bless you.

Submitted by JN.


A Reflection on Experiences as a male using Contraception

In the film, Demolition Man, the year is 2032. The characters of John Spartan (played by Silvester Stallone) and Lenina Huxley (played by Sandra Bullock) are about to have sex having known each other less than a few days. John Spartan in fact is only a day or two living in this “brave new world” having been cryogenically frozen as punishment for manslaughter, back in 1996.

To the confusion of Spartan, Huxley asks him to put on a Virtual Reality headset. Spartan is unaware he is about to have “sex”. As both begin to reach orgasm, Spartan pulls off the headset and begins a rant that what they were doing was not real sex. In this version of the future, to keep STDs at bay, sex is done exclusively by V-R except for the rejects of society who live in the city sewers.

Rewind to 2002 and the real world, a male Catholic called Richard, played by me, is trying his best to act out the role of a secular atheist male with no Catholic or family history. He sees himself as liberated from the truth and love offered him by his family and Church.


Richard is in a worse state than the “Prodigal Son” when in his rebellion, since the latter we are told used his own inheritance. Whereas Richard finances this life through the State, using the student loan the UK government has given him to study 100 miles from home. This is where he meets “Anne.”

Within a few days Anne tells Richard she loves him and a year-long relationship ensues that is eventually ended by Anne. Pre-marital sex begins almost immediately but the inner life of Richard is beginning to already experience difficulties regarding this.

It is clear he has what has been looking for: Anne is a talented student, funny, caring, chatty and down to earth. She “ticks most boxes” and yet an inner struggle is present straight away, with Richard’s body, mind and soul altered forever.

Condoms are used each time. The most sensitive area on the male body is being wrapped in a man-made rubber fibre. For the duration of being sexually active and afterwards, the genital and lower-abdomen area feel tight and uncomfortable. The lack of scientific research means this is more a “hunch” but Richard feels a chemical imbalance has entered his body.

Richard notices too, that in the act of having sex, he can smell the rubber. Every time he smells it his lower abdomen pulls tight. Wearing rubber gloves brings him out in rashes too. Would it not be reasonable to think, that were he rubbing man-made fibres vigorously on sensitive parts such as the mouth or nose or eyes, that toxins would enter and create imbalances?

There is a change in mental health too. Although mental health issues were present already since eating marijuana as a 16 years old, a gulf exists between Richard’s inner longing for romantic love and lots of children, and this secular model he is playing out. This despite being in a loving relationship.

This realisation properly surfaces when playing a love song by Nick Drake called “Thoughts of Mary-Jane.” A deeply idealistic and romantic soul though Richard has, he cannot stop the tears as he listens, since his innocence and idealism has been exchanged for a lie. But it is the accompanying confusion that perpetuates this, since this is everything that had been proposed by Hollywood and the romantic poetry Richard had consumed since a pre-pubescent as the way of achieving inner-happiness.

Later reading of St John Paul II’s theology of the body, albeit a superficial reading, gives some confirmation to these feelings. As with the characters in the novel “Brave New World,” Richard has been prioritising sex over love. The model of love proposed in the media is a version that is rooted first and foremost in sexual pleasure and has no roots in Truth.

As the relationship comes to an end in, Richard is desperate to re-enter the Catholic Church. He goes to a priest for Confession who has a reputation as a very strict Confessor. The priest listens as Richard recounts his relationship and the lack of love he feels in his heart. The priest is gentle.

The priest asks Richard if he received the Eucharist at all whilst in this relationship. Not knowing Church teaching, the answer is yes. The priest bends over as though in pain, like he has just been stabbed in the stomach and asks that if Richard decides to have sexual relationships outside marriage, that he refrain from having the Eucharist. I get absolution and begin a new life in Christ.

It remains the mission of the Church to posit a positive view of marriage and family and the pro-life movement, that will attract others. For example in the March for Life rally in Birmingham, England, in 2015, a young woman seeing the joy and happiness of the people on the march, decided to cancel her forthcoming abortion. She brought her baby to the rally the year after, thanks be to God in Christ Jesus.

Submitted by R. F., England



Women’s lib is a lie. You can’t have it all.

I am a survivor of the sexual revolution. I wasted my entire child bearing years on sex. It started in the early 70’s when I was 16 and lost my virginity to a 22-year-old. I got high and gave away my heart and wept. It started a whirlwind of relationships. Sex was powerful! I was exposed to porn. I was literally looking for love in all the wrong places and lost count of the bodies. I got pregnant at 18. We lived together to my angst. I wanted to be married, but he said it was just a piece of paper. I felt that he was rejecting me and our son and had a shameful whirlwind affair with a married man who divorced his wife to be with me.

I ran away within weeks of the whole mess. My son's father came back, but still no marriage commitment, no trust, but why should there be? I had another sexual relationship. My son's father’s last word to me was “Whore!” as he threw all of my son’s belongings on the front porch of my mother’s house and his stroller through the front door.


Sometime during then, my early 20’s, I realized that my body was beautifully and wonderfully made. I heard the Lord call me. I was a beautiful creation, but to my great sorrow, knew in my heart that I had aborted my future children with birth control. My mother backed me up when I was pregnant. She wouldn’t let me be shamed like she was when she had me out of wedlock. I cherished the life within me more than myself. My mother had a very unfulfilled marriage, but was open to having a grandchild, but we had fights. When I tried to voice my feelings, she said “you just need to get laid!”

I wanted to give him up for adoption to a man/woman who could get him what he needed to get to heaven. She thought I was trying to keep him away from her. I just wanted him to get to heaven. Someone showed me a picture of Jesus of Divine Mercy. I called on the Lord to forgive me and He did. I could see the Father and his love for me, the prodigal child, but it was just starting. The war raged on. I ended up in a psych ward and suicidal. It was hell on everyone around me. I was back living with my parents and son. I had terrible shouting matches with my mother. I had no control over anything and was in a corner alone. I just kept crying “I have no control over him!”

I was back to zero self-worth and had other affairs. I was worthless now. What difference could it make? My life was shattered all around me. I had been sexually “off the rails” since I was a teen and it spiraled to the destruction of me. My son was cutting himself and using drugs/drinking, and I lost my 1st grandchild to abortion when he was 16. He was so confused and angry and had no compass, no male figure to guide him, except for my dad, who became his surrogate. I will always blame myself for his eternal welfare. He was never baptized, but I gave him to God in my heart. I ask for mercy all the time and pray for him/us. I don’t know what else to do. I have two beautiful grandchildren now. Maybe God works with crooked lines and it will be okay. 

Women’s lib is a lie. You can’t have it all. We are sold lies, and I devoured them. I was so angry once I knew the truth, but learning/hoping/asking/wanting mercy. It’s all any of us have. Thank you.

Submitted by C.L.


The St. Photina Solution

“…the one that you have now is not your husband...” John 4:18

I’m ashamed to contribute to this blog. Other contributors are genuine innocent victims of the Sexual Revolution. I was one of the destroyers of the family.

I was a good Catholic girl. The Church and the truth mattered, and I was fortunate to have teachers who taught what the Church taught. In eighth grade I learned that Truth is immutable, and that if the Church ever changes her fundamental teaching, she was never a teacher of the Truth. Then came the hipsters of the post Vatican II era, of whom one priest told us that theologians now say that Catholics don’t have to believe in Papal Infallibility, even on matters of faith and morals. I drew the conclusion that the Church was a fraud, and that life was ultimately meaningless. Many theologians were liars in backward collars, but I didn’t know that.

When undergraduate school was nearly ended, and I was very serious about a man who was married, had a child, and wanted me, I chose the path of unbelief, of despair, and of unLove. I married him, bore his child, and battled depression for over twenty years. Then, as if by accident, while satellite surfing with my family we lit momentarily on the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy. I started going back to EWTN at every opportunity. This was 1993, and Mother Angelica was already handing it to the Liars in Backward Collars.

O My God. Now what?


I had a family to raise, but a husband who wasn’t mine. I chose to marry him when I believed that morality was an illusion and there was no Truth. There is Truth.How would I face Him as my judge? How could I say that I did what I thought was true? Victim or perpetrator, I had the responsibility to get right.

My solution came in Confession. I learned that to return to the Sacraments, I had two choices: I could leave my husband, or I could live with him like brother and sister. I ultimately chose the second, and I made that choice alone. I made it clear that I could not do what I knew was a sin, but I understood if he wanted to leave. He stayed with me on God’s terms, even though he didn’t believe in God and had no intention of seeking a nullity proclamation. Sixteen years it took that man to go to Confession and receive Communion. It was worth the world to me because, even though our marriage was invalid, our love for each other is real.

This has not been a holy walk in the park. My stepchild died after years of drug and alcohol abuse. My child has fought depression and health problems. I blame myself for a lot of that.

Twenty-two years I had been away from God, and I’ve had twenty-two to be back. Every day I feel like the stray cat God let in. I really don’t belong here, but I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Now we have a Year of Mercy, and bless Pope Francis for wanting to bring everyone home. Now, more Liars in Backward Collars want to paper over the damage of divorce and remarriage and admit us to Communion. No one wants to say this, but I have nothing to lose:

THERE IS A WAY BACK. IT’S HARD, IT’S NOT WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND, BUT IT IS POSSIBLE. MANY PEOPLE WHO TOOK THIS ROAD OF OBEDIENCE AND TRUST HAVE BEEN GREATLY REWARDED, EVEN IN MANY CASES, BY A CONVALIDATED UNION.

Jesus didn’t guarantee that last part. I’m not asking for it. Sometimes He surprises me. My child married, and after five years of trying to conceive, they nearly gave up. The Bible says that the child of an unfaithful bed shall die without issue, so that seemed one more thing to endure. But Good St. Anne has a way with her Grandson. We have a beautiful grandchild who is an unmerited mercy to us.

Who is St. Photina, and why is she in the title? Remember the Woman at the Well who was married five times, and the one she had then was not hers? That is St. Photina. She was a missionary in the Eastern Mediterranean, and she and her five sons were martyred under Nero. The “St.” in front of her name says that she has a place in the Church, and no one can take it from her.

 

Submitted by R. W. April 2016

 



I moved in with my girlfriend at 16.

My family were not Christian when I was a child, and my mum was never warm towards me or my sister because we reminded her of her aging and mortality, which she resented. The sexual revolution had made her fixate on being a young woman and gave her no preparation to function as a mum. She eventually committed adultery against my dad with his best friend when I was about 15. My mum left, and my older sister already lived away (with her boyfriend), so it was just my dad and me at home, but he was very depressed. I moved out at 16 and moved in with a girlfriend.

My parents' divorce took four years through costly solicitors and was full of bitter hurt. My girlfriend at the time and I introduced my dad to my girlfriend's mum, who had also been hurt by her adulterous ex-husband. We had meant for them to be friends, but they got together and my girlfriend's mum moved in with my dad and eventually became my step-mum. So I was engaged to my step-sister.
 
We moved to university together, but I was struggling to function and I started receiving humanistic counseling when I was 19 or 20 for about two years. Then my fiancée and I went to couple's therapy on and off for about a year, but we finally broke up when I was 21, after years of difficulty and perseverance in a really unnatural situation. We'd been together since we were 15, lived together since 16, broke up after 6 formative and tumultuous years.
 
Since we broke up, she's been diagnosed as bi-polar: she was physically and emotionally abusive, coercive, and controlling towards me during our relationship, but because of my dad's marriage to her mum, my dad never helped me. He and my step-mum took my abusive partner's side and colluded in her abuse of me, and made me feel responsible for her treatment of me.

Then one day I met an evangelist and after being amazed by the love present in the Christian community I became a Christian and met my now wife, also a Christian, when I was 22. We had a godly courtship for two years and on the advice of my evangelist and pastor we got married when I was 24 after a short marriage course provided by some lovely Christian mentors. My wife is incredibly loving and not at all like my mother or my ex-partner were. However, because of my formative traumatic experiences, I do unconsciously project onto her and so I experience her behavior as rejecting or neglecting me, even when she is not.
 
She knows this about my psychology and is patient and supportive. We talk about these things articulately. I have been in psychotherapy for the last five years and really am healing, with therapy, a Christian marriage, church community, and especially the Holy Spirit. Thanks be to God.

Submitted by A.L.P. in February 2016.



A Prodigal Son's Tale

The uproar over the Obergefell decision by the Supreme Court, as well as over the Planned Parenthood videos of aborted infants, has brought to light in my heart the brutal, circular journey I myself have made from devout Catholic school boy of the 50s to passive, liberal “hippie” of the 60s and 70s, and back to recommitted catholic – a gradual process that started in the 80s and continues to this day.

Specifically here I feel called to reveal the mindset that allowed me to rationalize my participation in two abortions of my own children with two separate women during my 20’s – not in the form of a confession, but to illuminate how pernicious this type of thinking has become in our culture, and how difficult it can be to overcome without a foundation in faith.

I was in the mid 70’s a young man attempting to make a living as a songwriter and musician in Los Angeles. I met a young Hispanic woman who was bright, articulate and as totally engaged in the whole drug culture and sexual revolution as I was. We began an intimate relationship that resulted in the conception of a child. When she gently notified me of this event I did the typical male prevarication thing and we ended up deciding to seek an abortion. I say “we”, although I’m pretty sure in retrospect that was not the solution she was hoping for. So I gave her the money, she had the abortion and our relationship ended rather abruptly.


I eventually met my future first wife around 1977, a woman who had grown up in an abusive family environment as the only daughter of a pedophile father and violent mother. We moved in together and in a very short time she became pregnant. I remember the look of disappointment in her eyes as we discussed the inconvenience this child would place on our lives. This time I was an active participant in the murder. I clearly remember sitting outside the door and hearing the whirring and sucking sounds of the machinery as our child was removed from her womb and disposed of like so much trash – or possibly, as we now know, sold off in pieces to some research lab. I saw the raw effects on the mother immediately as she came out of the recovery room to be driven home by me, her accomplice. She was absolutely devastated by the experience and for several days nothing I could say or do was any comfort to her.

Eventually we moved on, got married and had two beautiful boys, although the marriage was very stormy and ended several years later in a bitter divorce. As I began to recover from my profligate life and tried to guide my children through the treacherous rapids of the post-divorce world, I started to feel the tug at my heart every time I became intimate with a new woman. But I eventually realized that my behavior was inconsistent with my beliefs, and I struggled with celibacy, slipping many times before falling in love with a woman who understood my dilemma and was willing to support a Christian courtship.

I am now over 30 years clean and sober and married to that same wonderful, faithful woman, who is a Catholic convert. We are active in our church and community and have started a very successful bible study in our parish. I have at long last accepted that human sexuality is not the ultimate physical/spiritual experience I formerly thought it to be, but only a dim reflection of man’s participation in God’s unending creative glory. Used morally, a very great good – used immorally, a very great evil. But the tale bears telling if for no other reason than perhaps the chance to stir the consciences of other folks like me who were led astray and now find their lives empty of meaning as they pursue the gods of mammon – yet may still hope to find the one God of the universe ready and waiting to love and forgive them.

My constant prayers go with them.

Submitted October 2015 by J. L.