Acceptance, v0.4971

I've been finding it difficult in the mornings (and often at bedtime). If my wife and I have been intimate that morning, one of my main thoughts is, "Damn, no sex tonight! I should be happy/content/satisified but instead of being grateful I'm annoyed." It's the glass half full kinda perspective. A lot of my frustration is what Tara Brach says is 'The Second Arrow' The first injury or suffering is wanting sex, but the second hurt that follows closely is the anger and anxiety about having had that want or pain. Hurting about the fact that I hurt.  That's the second arrow.  So, embracing it, allowing it, philisophically considering it, mindfully noticing it without judgement. Those are all ways to try to accept it.  Damn, when I first heard her say to say to the feeling, '...you belong..'  even that made me feel angry.  "This doesn't belong!!!" I'm not going to welcome it, embrace it, as if I want it, I hate it!"  It's a little like that childish feeling of, 'It's not fair!" But, it seems, saying, 'You belong' doesn't mean all those things.  

So, I'm thinking and talking to guys in my recovery community about how mornings have been tough. I've woken up very turned-on and my mind has raced and ran and imagined me being given what I want.  It's not particuarlly triggering anymore. It doesn't take over my day (thankfully). But it pisses me off and I WISH IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!  So, that's when it hit me.  As if it's a new perspective, a new way of thinking.  What about making peace with the fact that I wake up wanting an orgasm?  I don't pursue it, I don't act on it, it doesn't happen, but, yeah, it's true. I want it.  Instead of fighting against it, I can practice accepting it.  That fits with accepting that I'm an addict. It fits with accepting life on life's terms.  And it's hard beause I wish it wasn't the case.  So, a new mantra to try to add to my repitoire.  Something like, "I accept the fact that I am often turned on in the morning.  I don't have to like it, but it I am practicing accepting it." These principles and concepts keep coming 'round. They are simple, but not easy.  It all happens over time, slowly.

Weight & my addiction expressed through food

As I dug through the 'man drawer', past the string and scissors an weird things that we never use, the superglue and the sewing stuff, I remembered something that hasn't crossed my mind in 35 years.  Weigh-ins.  In the military I sometimes had the job of conducting weigh-ins for my fellow soldiers who exceeded the weight limits for their height.  And toward the end of my military career I too was subjected to the dreaded experience.  Coming into the office in shorts and a t-shirt.  Raising my arms while the training sergeant got a little closer than is comfortable so they can wrap the tape measure around my waist.  I'd done this to others, and it's awkward.  It's embarrassing.  You have to line up the tape measure around the widest part of your waist, your belly, your fat.  Then pull it to get rid of the slack without squeezing.  Taking note of the measurement, I think we repeated the process three times and took the average number in case our readings varied a bit. 

I hated this.  Taking my shirt off is something else I have always hated.  Going in the swimming pool or ocean, I would rather not.  Or quickly get under water so I don't have to look at myself or think of others seeing my disgustingly fat belly.

At a breath-work event last month we were all lying on the floor, looking up, breathing in unison as directed by the leader.  We were preparing to feel emotional, to cry, to even scream at the end on his command (weird!) but when he instructed us to inhale deeply and into our bellies, I was distracted and unable to relax when considering filling my belly with every breath and letting it be the size it would naturally be.  I was trying to get out of my head, the point of the event, but that's the thought that dogged me--my belly.  I don't like saying it, I don't like writing it.

Good thing my recovery has evolved and mutated to me experimenting with noticing my body when I shower and get dressed every morning.  That helps, very slowly and very gently.  Especially as it has now evolved into me looking at my face and saying something affirming to myself that I know cuts directly against the grain of my biggest foundational struggles with my own identity:  "You are worth love."  "I'm not going to give up on you'" and the toughest to be sincere and look into my eyes in the reflection when I say, "I love you.".  I often have to try a few times to get rid of the sarcasm.  

The core of my struggles is believing deep down, in my heart, that I'm not loved (and that I'm alone and that I'm not doing enough).  Even though I know in my rational brain that I am loved and that I'm not alone and that I am doing plenty.  So daily affirmation addressing the most important of these feels very important.  I couldn't do this honestly and with integrity even last year.  It's something that I had to build toward and stumble into and feel ready to do.  Having a photo of myself as a cute and innocent little kid helped at first.  How can you not say, "I love you" to this little guy?  Of course he deserves my love.  Saying the words out loud was awkward and a little scary at first.  But I look at my body in the mirror, and I'm practicing accepting myself, inside and out.  

USA 2022

Doing things that I've done for years reminds me of how my addiction has dominated my life, and a bit of progress lately.

My Bride and I saw our Son's born over 21 years ago and all of our traveling, holidays, family visits have involved separate rooms for our lads. Every time I've made sure we have a door between us as being able to have sex has always been so important to me.  Maybe something I couldn't imagine not having.  Something I thought I needed (even though in a way I knew I didn't).  

Church was a huge part of my life, the reason I brought her to Cambridge and started our life here.  And early on there was a weekend away with several couples and as none of us had kids yet someone suggested the guys sleep all in one bunkhouse room.  I kinda made a joke about it, being a newlywed I wasn't going to sleep with anyone but my Bride!  Everyone laughed, but I was being serious as well.

Anyway, our trip visiting family I chose a room that didn't have a door between us and our son.  It meant no intimacy as we were practically in the same room.  I wasn't aware there wasn't a door, but I didn't make sure when booking the place and it didn't crush or kill me when I saw it.  I'm ashamed to remember the time I insisted my life long lover and long-suffering Bride allow me sex while my Mom was sharing the small hotel room and literally only ten feet away.  I was quiet, and we laughed about it, but I wasn't free or kind or respectful.  Sigh.

Update: 2022.  So much of my emotion in these blogposts is that, "Sigh".  Disappointment, regret, still failing, still struggling, still wanting what's not healthy to crave.  But last year went on another trip with my Bride and our son came along.  We booked an AirBnB and he slept in a room nextdoor which we found didn't have a door.  I remember not being so very bothered by this. That's huge progress!!  My obsession with orgasm means I am always planning sleeping arrangements, and thinking about them a lot.  Just like I used to count the hours until I might get sex, and ruminate on whether it'd happen or not.  I'd count the days and build up the resentment and my mood and attitude toward her, in all conversations and interactions, would be very much coloured by how many days it's been.  Always aware that yesterday was gone and I was only interested in whether tonight would be a yes again.  I could be sad that having sex last night meant I probably wouldn't get sex tonight.  Why couldn't I be grateful that I'd been given sex last night?   Anyway, things are getting better.  I don't find myself keeping track of which night I had my last orgasm, counting, resenting.  It does bother me some times, I do get a bee in my bonnet, but not as often and not as strong.  Progress!

Seeing through my pain with kindness

It wasn't unusual.  I'd been hoping and expecting intimacy for several days.  I knew the weekend morning was the best opportunity.  Wishing it was spontaneous and unplanned was probably not even in my background thoughts, but it might have been there somewhere.  The morning arrived and it didn't happen.  I was appalled and angry and found myself resentful for the rest of the day.  My urge to be in another room from her was powerful.  My desire to punish her for giving me this pain was palpable.  But it wasn't as strong as it had been the previous time.  I remember filling up the watering can in the back garden and that's when it changed.  I had been reading and thinking about trauma and neglect so I imagined that as a child I had rightly learned that my emotional and attachment needs were not going to be met.  I had found my addiction as a way to try to cope with that problem.  Now, as she hadn't given me what I thought I needed, my body (trauma lives in the body, not in the mind) had reacted just like I would as a kid when I didn't get what I needed.  When I had porn I was in control and I could take action to soothe myself anytime I needed to.  Now that I'm not using porn, I can see my reaction from a perspective of kindness toward that hurting and lonely child who had no language or nurturing about what to do.  

I saw my childish and selfish behaviour from the perspective of kindness and understanding that needs are okay, understandable and valid.  I was reacting today out of my unresolved trauma from childhood.  Manipulation isn't good.  But the best way to eradicate it is to see it like everything else from a position of kindness.  I learned to manipulate to get what I needed when had no better choice. Now I do have choices so I am working to learn and practice and rewire my brain and habits differently.  It's important to accept that I have needs, that my feelings are valid (even if not helpful, logical, rational or loving).  

While filling up the watering can I imagined myself as a lonely confused and hurting child that felt all these things with no comfort or comfort to handle them.  Hence where my addiction emerged to try to help.  And as soon as I saw the feelings that spawned actions that I am ashamed of, I saw those feelings from the perspective of kindness, something eased.  I was able to immediately approach her normally, without the resentment or agitation.  Being kind to myself lifted the atmosphere in me and allowed me to be the kind and normal partner I want to be toward her.

Accepting, Letting Go, Connecting

 She really enjoys days when she doesn't need to rush.  I find it frustrating.  But can I love her in this slowness (her responses to my questions are even slow) while being honest and accepting my frustration?

Can her slowness be something I can practice accepting, seeing as a gift, smiling about and noticing my anger?

I've been angry or annoyed or frustrated with her for a while now. Yesterday we had the day to ourself as our son was visiting his girlfriend.  We agreed to go to bed but I was carrying plenty of resentment.  We tried to be intimate but gave up and talked for a while. She found it difficult that we were talking as she thought she knew what to expect (she doesn't like change or surprises).  I reminded her that talking and connecting is what we both hold in high regard and see as very important.  She wondered if me not 'performing' was in some strange way me 'punishing' her for not giving me sex for several days.  She said it like she wasn't serious, just a passing thought.  Though I didn't admit it, there was some truth in that.  So it felt like a new realisation that we stumbled onto the idea of her feeling responsible for my sexual gratification.  She immediately remembered how her Mum was 'high maintenance' and that she never wanted to be that way.  Yet it seems she swung too far trying to avoid being high maintenance instead toward being responsible for things that she shouldn't--which in short involves 'enabling' my addiction.

Intrusive Thoughts

Hearing Voices sounds like something really 'crazy' something schizophrenic and amongst the most worrying of the worrying.  And it can be.  But it can be 'just' that self talk that is unhelpful.  Mine is based on the lies that, 1) I'm not good enough, 2) I'm alone and 3) I'm not loved.  

Another well known idea is 'Intrusive Thoughts'.  

It's new years' eve.  We are sitting outside staring at the embers glow and watching the orange waves of heat pulsate behind the flames as the fire burns itself out.  I'm thinking, I want to kiss her.  (But then I'll want to do more).  But the problem is unusual because she's not over Omicron strain of the Covid virus.  She got it on Monday and it's only Friday.  So all logic and sense says I'm lucky to be sitting with her outside.  Yes, I'm glad we found a way to be in each others' company.  So much better than using a video call from upstairs in her sickroom/prison downstairs to me on the sofa by myself, with that annoying delay and distracting thing where we interrupt and talk over each other.  So much better than me sitting on the other side of the door trying to hear her and not being able to see her at all.  But  I keep imagining, picturing, playing the scenario in my head.  Me approaching her and looking into her eyes and kissing her.  Me saying something romantic and passionate (fantasy).  But she'd just say, "I know you want to, but it's only (ONLY!) a few more days (reality).  She'd say something sensible and correct about how it's not worth anyone else getting sick (real or pessimistic?).  Dammit!  I am doing her thinking for her (projecting). But I keep playing the scenario again, trying different phrases.  She puts her mask on and comes inside, instead of going straight upstairs she takes some time to clean for the first time since her lockdown. So my brain creates another angle, "You are breaking the rules, I have an idea of another way to break the rules, that's more fun than cleaning!"  No quite right.  I think of other wordings, other ways to say being naughty is fun, exciting.  But I can't get away from the sensible objections.  The pull is like a tractor beam in the Star Wars Death Star--impossible to fight.  But my knowledge of the facts and guess of her sensible immunity to the magnetic pull that I'm feeling is equally irrefutable.  Damnit! 

So she says good night, a little awkward, but in no way giving any signals that line up with my fantasy.  I take her hand and she seems confused.  She didn't mind being that close to hand me a mug that needed putting away but it's never occurred to her to hold my hand (she's just sensible but it triggers my lie that I'm not wanted).  I pull her to me and give her a hug and I know nothing's gonna happen. DAMNIT! She walks a few steps away and I can't bring myself to look at her when she says and awkward good night.  FUCK!!!  I'm angry that no matter how much I ache, nothing changes.  I'm pissed off that the facts are the facts.  I am going to be on my own and I hate that.  I want her but not enough to ignore that she doesn't want it with me.  I think the harder it is for me the more I deserve a reprieve, a break, a reward.  FUCK! That's not how it works either!

I'm counting how long it's been since we hugged, since she touched me in any way at all.  How long since we kissed (and more).  It's not really been that long--I keep telling myself.  But it feels like forever and we're not halfway there yet.  I can't face the possibility that she might need longer to heal before she's testing negative and ready for normal life.   And I don't like thinking our reunion might just be 'meh'.  I can't count on an intensity to make up for me being 'robbed' like this.  acceptance, acceptance, acceptance.

I've felt annoyed at her for doing this to me.  I've felt like pouting, like withdrawing from her in our stilted conversations in a childish protest.  Ha, she's the one who's sick, she's the one who is isolated in a room and unable to leave the house, not me.  But it feels like my sex addiction must be worse for me than anything else is for anyone else--right?

What am I grateful for?  I'm  glad that I have a partner. I'm glad I have her--most weeks. I'm glad she's not really sick with covid, that she's not gone into hospital, not been on a ventilator or intensive care.  I'm glad we will be intimate again.  I'm glad my sons are well and visited this Christmas and New Year.  I'm glad I am part of a recovery community-- a family where we can be as honest as we can bear.  I community where I can be accepted no matter what and I can practice sharing my feelings and listening and supporting others doing the same.   I'm proud of myself for not going any deeper into sadness about my feeling of loneliness and sexual frustration.  I didn't do anything I'd be ashamed to admit in my 12-step meeting or to my sponsor or a fellow on a call.  I'm chuffed that I've been working so hard taking care of her.  I forgive myself for getting angry with her, snapping at her and resenting her being sick.

Crawling to Walking: Having had a spiritual awakening...and needs

I haven't even considered that I'd experienced a spiritual awakening as a result of doing the 12 steps.  I've had things I'd consider 'mystical' a few times in my life.  But nothing seemed even close here.  But after about three years of slowly changing how I live my life, something clicked on Tuesday morning (January 2021).  It was weird, it's hard to explain, it defies words (so a spiritual experience might be a good way to describe it--indescribable).

Best just to write about what I remember.  I was sitting in that low-key moment in the morning.  The part between meditating and getting on with my day.  The part after I've done a guided or free-flow meditation.  After I either focus on my breathing between distractions, listen to an inspiring talk-based guided meditation.  While I'm sitting just being for a few minutes, before I jump up and get swept away by the usual distractions and thoughts and tasks.  In that in-between space... something clicked.  I'm not sure it was a thought or idea, but after this moment something was different.  I was letting this thought turn over in my head, something I've thought maybe hundreds of times, and that's my Christian understanding of healthy sexuality.  It goes like this:

Each spouse thinks of the other, gives to the other, and by putting the other person first, their  needs are met through my selfless giving love.  Since both spouses are focusing on giving, that means the other spouse is blessed and receives as a result.

I realised how much guilt I carry around that idea because I think I'm rubbish about being 'giving' in that aspect of life.  I can be thoughtful in listening, sacrificial with my time, generous and loving in many ways.  But I've always thought I'm a real failure in being giving in regard to sex.  

In that moment many things all came together at once and made sense.  The reason why I feel like this is because I'm so needy, especially in regard to sex.  I've used sex (mostly porn) to soothe all my difficult emotions for several decades.  Sexual stimulus and fantasy became my default way to (try to) cope with all my troubles.  I see it now and am ready to keep working and keep practicing a new way to go through my pain, sadness, guilt and anger.  I see now the more I do that the more I can be available to do sex the way I've always wanted to.   Sex was maybe the one and only way for me to try to cope with all my emotions.  Orgasms are pretty intense, like a 'reboot' and being wanted and desired is a huge buzz, but  those pesky feelings become toxic without a better way to deal with them.

The way to stop pursuing my addiction and stop the 'black hole' of need from growing bigger and bigger and consuming everything, is to keep practicing something that seems to have nothing to do with sex at all:  feeling my feelings.  I've been practicing and experimenting with this for  many months, and so I'm learning (not conceptually or cognitively but practically and through experience) how to feel my feelings and let my feelings happen.  I let them happen, I let them be, and I watch and they fade like a fog on a cold morning.   I'm practicing letting my feelings be, not pushing them away or punishing myself for them.  As I stop rejecting them, they pass through me (sometimes slowly, sometimes faster).  The way to be rid of this unwanted thing is to accept it and stop fighting it.   Acceptance.   Of course.

The other thing that arrived in this short time, part of this good news, hopeful and inspiring is about having needs versus being needy.

It dawned on me that the reason why I'm so needy when it comes to sex, and unable to be selfless, is because I've been trying to use sex to meet all my emotional needs.  Angry, sad, confused or feeling down?  PMO was my 'go to' (porn, masturbation, orgasm). 

Self care, learning to love myself, noticing and gently challenging negative self talk and grappling with the lies that I've felt undergirded and reinforced my addiction.  I was practicing saying to myself, saying out loud to others, and reflecting on that I'm not alone, I'm enough, I'm not a failure for not being perfect.  Being imperfect means being human.  Having needs is part of that.  Meeting my needs and accepting that it's fine and normal to have needs was a big 'ah-ha' moment when held up alongside these other perspectives.  There's an old macho value deep within me that I am supposed to be tough, I'm supposed to be self-sufficient, I'm supposed to say, 'yes' to everything and I'm not supposed to have needs.  I'm replacing that value with something much healthier day by day and every time I am kind to myself.

This all happened after something really important that laid the foundation for this moment.  It was an honest and sorta bleak conversation with my Bride.  She needed to talk about the frustration about her menopause (again) and her weight gain (again).  This time she said she doesn't feel sexual these days (not just today, this week, this month).  The old addict driven and needy me would have been crushed..  I used to believe that I needed, PMO. I knew for many years in my head that I 'wouldn't die' (Mark Gungor) but in my heart, I was afraid and I needed.  This time I was able to be thoughtful and supportive and say the right things in this conversation with her.  She noticed that she didn't see my 'face fall' as sometimes when these kinds of realities were raised.  That was a real big sign of progress too.  Instead of being crushed, I came out of this conversation with a quiet excitement and odd confidence.  I could do this.  Something had changed.  For a while I was proud of myself and I remember feeling oddly like a 'grownup' now and that I was going to be more of an adult going forward.

A day or so later I was feeling sad about this loss.  I recognised I was grieving and mourning the loss of my familiar comfort of some forty years.  I talked it out and talked it through with my 12-step fellows on phone calls.  I moaned and I complained some.  I was glad people didn't try to cheer me up and they didn't try to convince me to see it differently.  All I could see was what was gone, and what was going sooner or later.  I recognised but didn't indulge the voice/idea to stop being silly and stop feeling sorry for myself. I used my practice to allow myself this need.  Needs are okay, needs are fine.  They aren't weaknesses or signs of unacceptable flaws.  

The next day or so I was talking about the same changes, but I found myself, automatically, without any conscious effort on my part, shifting the perspective to include optimism.  I was noticing a hope and a bigger perspective that didn't deny the changes or loss. I was starting to feel and be grateful and thankful that some things have always gotten better in my life and of course that would continue (intimacy, though not just physical).  So this is an example of a new pattern that I think I've stumbled on for processing my emotions, both in safe and supportive conversations and in mindful meditative times of prayer and contemplation.  

After practicing this sort of self-care for several months, I've been able to face and accept changes that were too much to bear before.  I'm meeting my needs (which required me to acknowledge and accept them first) and I'm putting time and effort into allowing my emotions to be in me, to exist and run their course in me, and ultimately to pass through me.  For the first time I'm processing my emotions.  And that's why I think I'm able to 'hand over' to 'let go' to not need an orgasm and not obsess about it or feel horrible sadness when it doesn't happen.  I don't need to try to control my access to orgasms because I'm in control of getting my emotional needs met. Over time my emotional responses will heal and the further my addictive cycle fades into the distance, the easier it will be to not return to those enticing and powerful and originally enjoyable, but ultimately destructive, habits. 

Am I cured?  Can I ditch my recovery program?  Well, it's not really not the right question, 'can I?' the question is, 'Do I want to' quit?  Hell no!  Of course not.  I've found a new and rewarding and satisfying way to feel and love and enjoy and accept real life.  It's like saying, "I know you've learned to walk, but do you need to walk?  You can go back to crawling."

HALT filters everything

 I'm tired from not sleeping much in this crazy strong heat.  I lie there actively fighting against myself to not touch her.  If I do, I'm only thinking of myself.  If she says yes (which she probably won't) I'll feel guilty and bad for my selfishness, my failure.  Then I'll feel no better and no less in lack the next day.  So pursuing disconnected sexual pleasure won't actually make me feel better.  The physical pleasure will be outweighed by the guilt and knowledge that I've added one more grain of sand to tilt the scales of our physical relationship toward unhealthiness.  I'm aware of my perfectionistic fears, but... still...

I do my meditation, listening to Tara Brach's talk.  I experience my pain a bit and think about all this.  In the last 24 hours I've definitely been powerless over my obsession and compulsion; yes I'm still a sex addict.  But it's good that porn and masturbation hasn't gotten the best of me for almost three years.   Still I'm feeling that lack and that overwhelming sadness, so that positive doesn't matter to me now.  But I'm not needing to be perfect, connecting is my new goal, and I embrace my shadow self and remind myself every day that perfection isn't the goal at all.  I've come to believe that a power greater than myself can relieve me of this suffering.  That means I'm not alone, I'm connected. I run through a list of people who I have varying degrees of connection with, but none of them seem significant.  Even my ever loving Bridge's love seems insignificant because I'm feeling depressed and overwhelmed.  I made a decision to turn over my will and my life to the care of my loving higher power. That means I'm loved, so I reject the lie and feeling that I'm alone, not loved, not good enough.  

Later I reread this post and imagine myself being soothed by a loving caring understanding mother.  I feel her arms surrounding me and her close breath saying, 'You're going to be alright, I know, darling.'  and 'I've got you, honey, it's okay, I'm here.'.  I imagine myself feeling soothed and comforted and I imagine feeling better, in hopes that with practice I actually will feel better.