Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Ageing



What a fun title: ageing.  Sigh...

But I think working the 12-step program is helping me to let go, not only of my never-ending obsession and expectation for sex.  But it's helping me to find grace and acceptance for my situation, my lot in life.   I think I'm accepting the fact that I am ageing.  And, more related to my obsession, that my wife is ageing. 

Any painful change looks different once I've adjusted to it and accepted it.  My sons growing up and 'leaving the nest' was painful.  It's hard to describe, because I have words for thoughts and ideas but not so much for feelings.  If felt hard.  It hurt.  It wasn't easy or nice.  Then, about a year later, the situation was the same but the feelings were different--better.  Purely because I'd adjusted to the change.  I'd talked to people about it a lot, I'd gotten my mind off it and focused on other things some too.  And time had passed.  Now it's fine that our nest is emptying.  We can even see the good in it, although all those things that made it hard are still there.  It's perspective that matters.  New perspective comes as a by product, not something that can be conjured.  My perspective has changed and makes this loss okay because I spent time considering it.  And I knew that it was right, and I kept that in mind while I felt it wasn't.  My feelings were gently and patiently guided toward what I knew.

So how does all this empty nest adjustment relate to my adjustment about getting old, especially my adjustment to her getting old?  It's the same.  I felt it too much to bear that she was getting wider and saggier.  It hurt every time I was reminded (just like it hurt when I thought about my sons leaving to lead their own lives).  But I talked about the fact that it was natural and right for my wife to age.  I talked about how I prefer her to anyone else I could visualise.  I let myself feel sad and robbed, but I reminded myself what I knew, that I am fortunate and have a wife to be thankful for.  Eventually, the talking (and praying and reflecting) carried me through the change until most of my feelings eased and I wasn't sad or feeling robbed by time anymore.  I was freer to live in the knowledge that I'm fortunate. 

I used to resent getting older and I didn't want to be associated with middle aged folks.  I wanted to run with the cool kids but just didn't belong alongside them anymore.  When on long hikes it frustrated me to see so many wrinkled and grey grandparents there as I didn't want to be in their club. I wanted to be in with the younger ones. 

This was strongly linked to me feeding on the visual stimulus of young and attractive women.  I've done it since I was a kid and I wasn't just addicted to it, I was drawn to it.  Looking at a younger woman made me feel better and made me want a chance to look again for more exciting or comforting feelings.  I was about eighteen when I had a crappy camera and would drive around with a friend aimlessly.  But it wasn't aimless as I was looking out for attractive women and I'd snap their photos like a creepy stalker.  I'd try to smile and flirt to make some sort of connection with them and reassure myself it was all good clean fun.  But it was part of my obsession and fantasy of objectifying and drinking in the pretty faces, long soft hair, and young shapely figures.

More than thirty years later I am trying to break the deeply ingrained habit of objectifying women and visually drinking them in. I have a fantasy of a perfect young woman who is out there somewhere to make me happy and somewhere deep inside me I'm still automatically assessing them all to feel a little better while looking out for my nirvana.


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