PRIESTS AND PARENTS

in priests •  4 months ago 

Psychoanalysis of Tombolo (Mulberry Trees and Impurities)

When I was young, the thing I wanted most was to have sex (or at least share a kiss or two) with one of my high school classmates. I even know exactly which one. But in the absence of that, any of the others would have been fine too. Instead, nothing happened. The priests and parents always got in the way. Damn priests and damn parents! I’m not saying they physically intervened between me and the object of my desire. No, they did worse: they inserted themselves psychically with their inquisitive and overly curious, reproachful gazes—those looks that filled you with a certain kind of shame you would carry with you for the rest of your life. I’ve often noticed that some boys are always confident and at ease, while others are often awkward, at least in certain situations, especially in the presence of their parents. I think it’s due to those looks. Sure, my grandfather didn’t look at me that way; he gazed at me with kind eyes and always tried to put me at ease. But everyone else did, including the priests.

Regarding the priests, I share the sentiment expressed by Meneghello when he talked about a confession made by one of his friends:

"I have another sin, a serious one. I’ve spoken ill of the priests."

The anguished tone alarmed the confessor, who wanted to know exactly what had been said about the priests. But Mino resisted. "Oh, you know... just bad things, in general." Finally, he had to report the exact words. He had said that priests were 'snuff-takers.' In my opinion, they were snuff-takers because every time I went to confess, I had to repeat that formula I had memorized: "Atimpùri," after which I felt much more masculine. Even though he didn’t say anything to me, he looked at me sternly through the grille—or at least I was convinced of that. I think these things should also be considered a form of the evil eye, and the most pernicious kind because it tends to cling to you and never let go. With those scandalized and astonished faces, because I wanted to do something they surely would have wanted to do too but could no longer do. They said it was anti-educational. But I’m sure that if I had done it, I would have become more mature, more aware, and more at peace. I’m not saying (since we must be politically correct) that this would have been the case for everyone, but for me, it definitely would have. In fact, after discussing it with my friends, I think it would have been the same for them too. As for maturity, that was the greater maturity, far more than what exists now!

My father was the most narcissistic person I’ve ever known; he would erupt into emotional storms over nothing and always blamed others who were weaker. My mother was the most submissive woman on earth and would have sacrificed anything to avoid upsetting her husband, to the point of absurdity. My grandmother suffered from a form of obsessive neurosis that compelled her to count and recount everything in her house multiple times. My grandfather, on the other hand, was the most balanced and kind person in the family, at least with me. Sometimes I think about what my life and my equilibrium would have been like if he hadn’t been there. It’s easy to imagine how dysfunctional and full of fears and anxieties my life was as a child and an unaware adolescent in that environment where no one explained anything or informed you about anything. A great confusion!

I’ve certainly forgiven, even though there’s nothing to forgive. So why do I say this? For two reasons: First, because it’s true. Second, because if someone at some point in their life finds themselves in difficulty, it’s either because of unbearable problems from their past, genetic reasons, or, most of the time, a combination of both. In any case, if they try to understand, if they try to improve, they not only bear no blame for what happened to them (as long as they try to become aware of it and improve, as I’ve already said), but they actually deserve great credit and have nothing to be ashamed of. I say this for all the people who, through no fault of their own, have had to struggle while watching others like them pass by in speedboats, almost feeling guilty for it.

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