Question of Conscience

An “innocent child.” People toss the phrase around as if it’s proven fact that all children were born onto this earth irresponsible, possessing a clean conscience. But who made that fact?  And are some of us born more evil than good? If you believe in a higher power who created us all equal, the question arises: WHAT IS A CONSCIENCE?

It was 1976 and I was three, when this “poor innocent child” was first exposed to the notion of conscience. I blindly believed Jimminy Cricket was merely a cute little bug who spoke to a wooden puppet with a dream. I too had a dream. I dreamt my grandmother was half a PB&J. Sitting on my kitchen counter she plead “Honey don’t eat me it’s Grandma!” And you know what I did? Walked right up and took a bite, like Eve and the apple. Even in my dreams it occurred to me, I’d no understanding of the word conscience.

At six, a wild cat adopted our home. She arrived with her own “innocent child”. My mother warned me of the consequence of carrying the kitten outside, yet the words passed right through my ears as I ran to the neighbors to brag of my new shiny toy. Turns out the German shepherds next door wanted to play with her too. I watched the consequence of not listening, the kitten lying there lifeless and cold, yet I felt nothing. Wasn’t I supposed to feel remorse? I quickly skipped home to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Later in the week my mother noticed the kitten “gone missing” yet I feigned ignorance to that poor innocent feline’s fate. I think this was the first moment I questioned, where was my conscience?

At the age of 14, I could quote more bible verses than any one of my friends. Having been raised a strict Christian, shouldn’t I of all people have possessed the sharpest of all consciences? Good vs. Evil was not a foreign story to me, and yet that’s all it was, “a story.” How was it possible I seemed to consistently identify with the dark side? It was then I continued my quest to find my conscience.

After years of inner turmoil and struggle between what I felt, and what I was being forced to do, I met my first love, putting my quest on hold. Sixteen and never been kissed did NOT resonate well with me, and just before my birthday I found myself involved with a boy who to this day holds my heart, but more importantly shared my belief system that quite possibly humanity has incorrectly defined:  just what IS a conscience?

At 19 I put my conscience on the bedside table of a guy I scarcely knew. 1 Corinthians, Chapter 7: Thou shalt not engage in sexual activity before marriage, er uh something like that. I could quote it in my sleep at one point, but for months he and I engaged in immoral behavior and each night I went home with a smile on my face and a secret knock on my parents sliding glass door. It was then I became convinced, I’d been born without a conscience.

At 21, I married a boy who INSISTED I find my way back to defining my conscience. After all, we took vows. We pledged our loyalties to one another and he needed confirmation that I would uphold those promises and listen to my conscience. To this day he believes he was “my first”, and I still wait for that prick they call conscience.  

A decade went by and never quite satisfied, my head and heart wandered, and they wandered often. My marriage gone south, and my head in the clouds, I never could have guessed what would come next. I happened upon that boy I once knew, that I’d only kissed but never had screwed. It was like thunder had struck me from above! UNCONDITIONAL LOVE! I had finally found my conscience.