Begging for Life like Mary Magdalen: Lenten Post 1

It was Fall 2004 at Franciscan University of Steubenville. Jenn and I were attending a women's seminar on sexuality. A lady began talking about her experience with masturbation and not only did I connect, but I felt like she was reading my soul. I was shocked at her accuracy for things I did not even know how to articulate. That is the plight of 19-- lots of words and feelings but little understanding and articulation. The lady finished and we were given a ten minute break. Jenn and I walked to the restroom, but I waited outside for her. I leaned against the wall trying to take in what I heard and was experiencing. Jenn walked out and looked concerned. I must have been in a daze. She asked if I was alright. I opened my mouth and what came out in a whisper was a roar from deep inside of me, from something that I did not know existed in me: I didn't know I hurt so much. I could not stop repeating it; tears slowly began to roll down my cheeks. Poor Jenn, she did not know what to do, so she fond one of the evening's coordinators, Dr. Storm. Trulie talked about her but this is how Storm and I met. I could not say my name, nothing except that declaration of my being. I new masturbation was wrong, I knew it hindered my relationship with God, I knew that I had struggled with it for all of my life that I could remember, but I did not know the damage it was doing to me, did not know the wound that started or perpetuated it. I began that self-discovery and healing that night, a journey that would culminate a little more than a year later, a journey that still takes places today, little by little, day by day.