When I was a little girl, I’d hear the word “pecado” (sin) on the daily. According to my elders, everything was a pecado. I was raised in a catholic family, and almost everything I did; everything I wanted, everything I thought, everything I DREAMED of, was considered a sin. So much, that I sometimes was afraid of being myself around people because, who knows, breathing might’ve been a sin. It seemed that all things proven to be good in life were sins. So, I kind of wanted to sin. Sinning seemed like too much fun. As an adult, effortlessly and shamelessly I “sin.” Guilty as charged. And as long as…