Generational Sin. As you can probably guess it is Sin that is passed down by generation, but not in that you’ve learned sinful traits and acted upon them, more in the way of that the past generations “Spirit of Sin” is stuck to you. So if you think about Karma and what goes around comes around, I suppose it would be similar except that what happened in your family from past generations is in your DNA — and not just your DNA, but your “Spiritual DNA”.
When I was conceived by two people under the influence of drugs and alcohol. The woman having low self esteem, and an early alcohol addiction (passed on by generations before her) and the man being a big drug pusher and womanizer around town, passed on by his alcoholic, adulterous, abusive father — the man (hardly, age 19) and the woman (age 22) who I am guessing was in love with said man.
Pregnant? That is not supposed to happen. The man gives the woman money for an abortion — I heard this story my whole life — sixty dollars, to be exact and he left, and it turns out he later was “narked” on (big words for a young girl to hear asking about who her father is) and sent to prison. Cocaine.
I learned recently that my mom who was scared and alone, and really never wanted to be a parent walked into the abortion clinic, and what happened that day-I will never know, but someone or something talked her out of the abortion and she walked back out.
Hearing my whole life that my real father gave my mother money for an abortion and left dug a hole in me somewhere. I think it dug the same hole in my mother who continued to fall into abusive and alcoholic relationships after she wrote father unknown on my birth certificate.
Walking in her footsteps, although I swore I never would, I found myself pregnant at 16 by a boy I believed I loved. The drugs and alcohol were the same, but the difference was this boy loved me back. When I conceived the baby on a park bench in 1994, it was the summer before my senior year. I had been sexually active since 12, and boys were my life. I see now I needed something to disassociate from my mom’s abusive boyfriend, and her alcoholism.
Drugs and alcohol made me feel a part of the crowd for the first time, cool, rebellious, and like I just didn’t care. I had turned off to the world, and given up on having a “normal” life.
When I found out I was pregnant my boyfriend had already moved to Utah to live with his mom. When I was working out one morning, I ran to the bathroom to throw up. I called him from the gym I worked at. I somehow made plans to fly to Utah that summer while pregnant, and thought about moving there and having the baby and going to college there. I arrived on my 17th birthday. They were all so gracious to this young, scared pregnant girl.
We talked and talked and through my morning sickness, and our love, I couldn’t wrap my head around having this baby. His mom sat with me over Red Robin and told me she had also had an abortion, and she would support me either way.
Many of my close friends were having abortions left and right, and so I felt validated. But another close friend of mine was pregnant too and having her baby. My boyfriend was distraught and felt like he had no choice, but I couldn’t believe that my life could be any different if I didn’t finish high school, and my mom had already said there was no way I could have this baby. So I felt powerless, and let it go.
My boyfriend slid further and further into his addiction, and every time I would visit it was worse.
He committed suicide ten years later, after a life of incarceration and drug addiction.
Another part of that story is one time he came to visit me at work in Seattle. I was 21 and newly sober, and guess what? Pregnant. He stood in my line at The Bon Marche and wanted to surprise me. He was clean, too. We’d been talking and writing, but I failed to tell him I was in a new relationship, and was expecting. So when he arrived all excited to see me and saw my baby bump, I think that was just too much for him to handle.
Life feels so tricky sometimes. I know for many years I walked a path of self, and didn’t know there was a Heavenly Father watching after me. I hoped so, but I didn’t think I qualified to be loved by anyone — least of all God.
So, I continued to be distant and follow what I knew. I chased the things I thought would make me happy or feel somewhat normal, but that hole just kept getting deeper.
Shame is a powerful thing. As an adult in her early forties, I feel the attachment of all of those things, the things that happened to me, the things I did. It affects many aspects of my life, many that I’m just realizing after being thrown into a small town in rural Minnesota. I’ve had to detox from distractions and habits that were keeping me running.
I’ve decided — and feel worthy enough for once — that I am ready to let go of all of this. It has kept me held down for so long, feeling not good enough, causing me to create more sin, chaos, and drama in my own life. Whether it be shopping too much to fill the void, creating arguments, not being able to be present with myself, anger and rage, anxiety and fear. Feeling unworthy of making friends, putting on a persona or false self and not being able to be the real me. I have worn many masks and been anyone you wanted to me to be, a chameleon of sorts to avoid being seen. My walls are high and my heart feels like a heavy stone. I am unable to let people in, and I am now willing to let that go. Totally just bringing up the feelings and pain and surrendering them and my past to the God of my understanding.
My parents have long since passed and I am carrying around all of this bondage, and this generational sin. The anger, complaining, judgment, envy, greed. Even the swearing, gossip, and pride. This feels like all of me. What will I be without all of my sins?
I can’t wait to find out.