When I was a young man, I couldn’t stop masturbating. It was just too hard, and I was too weak. Guilt destroyed me. I sinning in a way that was so bad it was “second only to murder”. I considered suicide after I had been clean for a while, but I was too scared that suicide itself might keep me out of the celestial kingdom. I was going to hell, and I was too weak to stop myself.
My ward didn’t have many young men, so I was constantly asked to help with the sacrament. But I knew the doctrine — participating unworthily only brought me further condemnation. Some Sundays I was wracked with guilt as I “shirked my priesthood responsibility” by hiding (in an effort to sin no further). Other Sundays I helped anyway, and piled further condemnation upon my soul. I hated myself.
Then I read about eunuchs in a fantasy book. I consulted a dictionary, and learned about castration. I became obsessed with the idea. This was the perfect cheat code! I could kill my sex drive while remaining alive to repent! Sure, my voice would get higher and I’d become much more effeminate. I’d be giving up my own family some day. So what? I was going to solve the one temptation I couldn’t beat on my own! Maybe celestial marriage would be hard or impossible, but I could make the second or third tier within the celestial kingdom easily without a sex drive! Good enough! God would be so impressed at my sacrifice.
I made plans to drive myself to the hospital, castrate myself in the parking lot, and rush in before I bled out. I just had to make sure to destroy my testes enough that the hospital wouldn’t be able to reattach them. I’d basically be writing myself a ticket to heaven!
Fortunately, I chickened out. But I felt absolutely horrible. I felt like I was choosing hell, and I’d spend eternity regretting that weakness.
I’ve since healed from my perverse mindset. But sometimes I look at my kids and wife and think with horror on what could have been. It’s scary, you know?