What are the worst things (morally speaking) you have done in your life? Note that its YOUR opinion and your morality.
Well first of all until the last few years, owing perhaps partially to my Asperger’s, I was oft prone to hitting at or using bad words against my family members. I don’t think I fully understood the implications of such actions back then. However even in the last few years when I’ve understood such things are wrong, I have been guilty of cursing my aunt openly; pushing, (I’m not sure how to describe this) “handing” my parents (sort of like when one smacks someone on the back out of happiness but in this case out of spite or disrespect) or otherwise disrespectfully touching my adults; and oft-disobeying my family members. In addition I almost have a reflexive habit of associating every person I know with words of profanity and contempt. Besides that I have been, to quote the Apostle Paul, “burning with lust” especially recently and as a double whammy have been forced to deceive my elders in doing so.
You’re fourteen. You’re supposed to “burn with lust”. It’s called “puberty”.
The worst thing? When I was about twelve, a few of my friends and I got into some stupid argument. It ended up with three of us on one side, and one on the other. Well, we decided it would be “fun” to send her this really nasty letter, telling her how stupid and ugly she was, and how much we hated her and that everyone wished she would die. We made up these stupid little rhymes, like “roses are red, violets are blue, you fucked your brother, so fuck you.” AND, to add insult to injury, on the outside of the envelope, we wrote, “We’re sorry,” and “let’s be friends again”, etc.
So we dropped it off in her mailbox…and waited to see what would happen. Well, apparently, her MOTHER found it. And called OUR mothers. And then, of course, we were grounded for the summer. (Which, of course, we deserved). I still feel guilty when I think about it.
The only explanation I can give is that twelve year-old girls can be extremely nasty. (And yes, we later made up.)
Okay, I’ll bite.
I had an affair with the wife of a good friend of mine. It was several years ago, a very strange time in my life. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I found out after we had been together for the first time that she and her husband had decided to try having an ‘open relationship’, but it didn’t make me feel any better about the whole thing. But I was lonely, new to Chicago, and drinking heavily at the time and though I didn’t want to be in this situation I found myself waking up next to her on the weekends more often than not. I’m conflicted about blaming myself for a lot of it, because I had told her repeatedly that I was uncomfortable being in a relationship with her while she was married and living with the father of her child, but she had known my then-roommate since childhood, and known that I had a drinking problem, and would basically find out from the roommate where I was going to be drinking, and position herself there at the end of the night when I wouldn’t have the strength to refuse her. And she was mad about me. I was possessed of a certain bad-boy charm in those days, being a sarcastic, chain-smoking, hard-drinking kid with a blue-collar New England accent, while her husband was more of a love-everybody hippie type.
We carried on for about six months, me feeling shitty about it the whole time. Eventually it became clear that the whole ‘open relationship’ idea really meant that she wanted to leave her husband for me, and I couldn’t deal with that. I sobered up long enough to break it off, though she ended up leaving her husband anyway a couple of months later.
Ultimately, though, I don’t know if it was the affair that was the worst thing I ever did, or the fact that my crippling Irish-Catholic guilt over being involved with a married woman caused me to treat her so poorly. I hated myself for being in this situation, and I outwardly blamed her and kind of treated her like shit. Her infatuation with me made her put up with me being a complete asshole at the time, and regardless of these odd and particular circumstances I’d never treated a woman so badly before or since.
It was a sin of omission, not commission, that I have felt damned my adult life.
And several good friends are now deceased as a result. Any of us could have saved the rest, and none of us did. By some perverse whim of Fate (or God or whatever) I nevertheless survived to live to regret our shortsightedness and cowardice.
I try very hard to be a good Christian: I don’t eat shellfish, I burn animals to make a pleasing scent for the lord (the Lord loves a good barbecue), I haven’t actually found a witch yet but I wouldn’t suffer her to live if I did, but… I like mixed blend fibers in my clothes, especially sweaters. And even though I’ve been menstruating since I was in the 9th grade, I’ve never separated myself from others and spent time in a menstrual hut. Hopefully God will forgive me.
With the exception of perhaps the Salem witch stuff I don’t think any of the things you mentioned have anything to do with Christianity. Did you mean to say you try to be a good Jew?
High School. I wrote on a page in my arch-enemy’s yearbook. Somehow I got my hands on his yearbook (I think it was through some classmate that was signing it). I went to the library as I usually do during open senior hour. I was imagining the possibilities. One of my friends said, “Don’t do anything you’d regret”. I should have listened.
In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max’s toupee and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog… When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I got nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out… But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.
I once made a prank call to my mom, pretending I was from the hospital and that my kid sister was hurt, I was 14 (now 23 years ago).
my mother recognised me instantly, and hung up she never gave me punishment for it, or even brought up ever
And now I feel guilty for laughing at this. Why are certain bad things funny when they happen to OTHER people?
As for me, I cheated on a SO once after too much boozing. It really devastated her and to this day I feel like a shit when I think about it.
One time I also got involved romantically online with a married woman. Long story short, she divorced and we met up in real life. She also had a son. It was a mess and while our short in-person romance was actually very good, my Catholic Guilt kicked in and really sent me for a loop for a while.
Other than penis-related picadillos, nothing especially comes to mind.
(Wait…what do you mean this wasn’t a contest?)