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.

anatomy of insanity

I feel that lack, and I feel it strong enough that it's f****** up my time with my beloved.  I read in John Gray's book about sex that women don't know if they want sex (like the opposite of many of us men know, we know that we do want it).  I need to ask her, to give her a chance to think about it, I need to woo her.  But 35 years of porn has dug deep trenches in my brain so I default hard against risking rejection, making myself vulnerable, and not knowing whether her response will be yes or no.

I ask her, then I get angrier and angrier as I wait to see what she says.  I feel humiliated making myself vulnerable.  I feel like a fool wondering what she'll say.  And all the while my emotions form a force-field around me that pushes her away and traps me in my man-cave of isolation.  The thing I need is comfort and reassurance and affection.  But the vibes I'm giving off pushes her away in the exact opposite direction.

A few days later, and I have a lot to be grateful for (although I've been livid with anger and heartbroken with sadness too).  This is part of my addictive cycle.  This is going to happen again (dammit!)   I have done well (good job, well done!) to have taken action by going for a walk and making a phonecall.  I am grateful to realize it takes more than a few hours, sometimes more than a day or even two, for the anger to subside.  That means, unfortunately, it might not be best to puruse/expect/engage in intimacy during this spiraling.  Again, the very thing I want the most is not what I really need and acceptance is huge.

Roots Push Through Pavement

The way a seemingly weak weed works it's way through and cracks concrete, the way the roots of a tree wind their way right through pavement or a road.  My feelings will find a way out.  Like water finds a leak, inevitably burrowing slowly and unstoppably.  I'm like that boy with my finger plugging the whole and the damned dam of pressure behind my emotions gotta go somewhere.

If I'm talking to her, she'll say something for my anger to latch onto.  If she walks away, I resent that.  I want her to stay while I walk the tightrope trying to balance my anger so she doesn't see it.  But maybe she will, but I hope she doesn't, or does.  I don't want her to mention the elephant in the room, nor do I want her to walk away. 

I am a tightly wound ball of anger, resentment, neediness and sensitivity, coiled and ready to deploy, a spring ready to be sprung, a mess of contradictions and conflicting desires that are impossible to resolve!

Sight: the favoured sense of a porn/sex addict

She's upstairs finishing her morning routine.  I am drawn and... can I say it... 'repulsed'?  That's such a strong word.  I feel shame allowing that feeling, uncomfortable writing it.  But I feel a strong guttural pull toward her knowing she's showering, cleaning herself, making herself ready and there's something alluring about that.  It seems like she's 'available'.  There isn't the usual barrier of clothes.  She's in our bedroom, or near it.  I have sexualized so many things (underwear, nakedness, etc.) that I instinctively keep away while she's showering and walking around in various states of undress.  I feel anxious and triggered.  My memory is stronger, the fantasy of immediate and context-free sexual encounters (which I programmed and reinforced over many decades of consuming porn).


But what about that word 'repulsed'?  I don't want to admit it.  I don't want to write it down.  But, she's gained more weight recently than ever in our marriage.  I used to get turned on by looking at her body, but now I often look away when she climbs into bed naked (the way her body sags isn't nice to see).  I feel guilty, but while I am drawn to her while she showers and dresses, I am simultaneously repelled by her flab and dumpy shape.  My addiction is never far away, so I want sex--any time.  I love her and I appreciate her for who she is, her care and companionship and our conversations, and yes, the pleasure and connection of us enjoying sex together.  But I have to touch her and kiss her to get turned on.  Maybe it's because I'm getting older (I'm not a teenager anymore, that was over 30 years ago) so it might be more about my body than hers.

What a strange feeling to be drawn and repulsed at the same time.  And when we are intimate, those times when it's not ideal, I feel a stronger pull than ever.  When sex isn't satisfying, I want more sex.  The sex that isn't fulfilling creates a stronger urge than ever for more more of that same thing.  Like that anology of a thirsty person drinking salt water, only to end up more thirsty.  I want sex but need to step back and see that there's something else that I really need.  The strongest and most powerful physical experience is what I want, but I will only get what I need if I look somewhere else.

I am learning that there are no wrong feelings, that I need to acknowledge and feel this repulsion, so I can let it pass through me (healthy) and move on.  It's no reason to be ashamed or label myself as 'bad' because of feeling something that I don't like.  The feeling isn't me.  It's not my decision, judgement nor a belief nor permanent.  Writing about this is helping already, but I know I need to talk about it honestly and with people who are understanding and who are not judgemental.  Being heard is really important for my recovery and it communicates that I am worth (and I have) value. I'm worth talking about my feelings. I'm worth forgiving myself and practicing being compassionate toward myself.  As I struggle with this, hearing myself say these things out loud and knowing I'm being heard and seeing others model accepting me, helps me to follow, join in, and accept myself too.

Better Self-talk & New Mantra

Today I noticed her annoying habit (which isn't sexy) or maybe it was that she's gained weight or just the doldrum boring familiar bedtime routine.  Whatever it was, I thought,

"I don't like this" but then I thought, "But I can accept it".
That seems healthier.  I acknowledge the feelings and verbalise the reality, then, and only then do I put it in context and say something about my relationship with this reality.  It used to be more like,

"I don't like this".  "Why can't it be like (insert fantasy here)" and much rumination and anger and longing followed.

"I feel disappointed, but I can accept this reality which is better than fantasy."

Distortions, Thoughts & Emotions, oh my!

I've been reading about and pondering the cognitive distortions used in CBT for a while now. They make sense and I can identify with them, but there's always been a disconnect between the idea and my problems.  I've never been able to use cognitive distortions personally.  It's like they are concepts, but very individual and 'in my head' and of an analysis and academic perspective.  When I'm struggling I'm all in my emotions, overwhelmed, confused, angry and not thinking clearly.

But this week the two converged.  I was in the middle of my addictive obsession, trying to think through the confusion of what seemed like thousands of thoughts behind a few very strong feelings.  One of my 'core lies' messages was intelligible though, "She doesn't want me".  Looking back on it, I think it was really more like, "She is annoyed with me", or "she's annoyed about something and it's coming across in her conversation with me".  What a huge difference between the first and the last of those three messages.   I could take the 'core lie' and expand it to it's ultimate destructive and hopeless conclusion as well:

"She doesn't want me"  descends to "No one wants me, I am not loved and I am all alone".  Seeing it in the cold light of day it is obviously rubbish.  I've got a loving family, thoughtful colleagues, a supportive church and friend network.  I get on with some of my neighbours and on and on.

But in the fugue of my addictive pain, these lies seem very real and I can't rationalise about them.  It feels like I'm stuck in a room with horrible messages playing on a loop.  They are not clear, but they are relentless.  I used to respond by going deeper into my addiction where the numbing would quieten those thoughts.  But the addiction was somehow temporarily distracting them from me, but somehow it feed them and making them stronger for next time.

So, what about these distorted thoughts?  

By LoudLizard

Selective Abstraction:
I based my conclusion that she doesn't want me, that I'm not loved, that I'm alone... all on one fact, that she was annoyed with me or didn't seem to want me in one way at one time.

Minimisation: 
I downplayed the fact that she's been married to me for a quarter of a century, that she says and shows that she's committed to me, she's patient and understanding of my struggles.  I downplayed all these things and drew my conclusions on one negative and temporary thing:  That she was annoyed with me or didn't seem to want me in the way I hoped.

Personalisation: 
This isn't so clear in this scenario, but it does seem to be my default assumption whenever anything goes wrong.  Someone makes a mistake, I automatically think, "Shit, that was me!" when usually it's not at all.  It's accompanied by fear and some wrong assumption that mistakes are fatal.

Arbitrary Reference:
Again, I draw the conclusion that I'm unloved, I'm not wanted, I'm alone, not quite arbitrarily, but definitely illogically and incorrectly.  I didn't bond when growing up, so I didn't feel or learn to feel loved or attuned.  My parents thad their own problems that distracted them and made them unavailable, so, yes, I did get a strong sense that I wasn't wanted.

Magnification:
Definitely making a mountain out of a molehill when someone being annoyed with me or not propositioning me in the way I like gets exaggerated and distorted into, "I am alone and unloved"!

Overgeneralisation:
Again, it's understandable why mental health issues make us think of craziness because my feelings translated into thoughts because of long-held deep and unexamined beliefs that seem insane!  Everyone can see it's crazy to think I'm alone because I'm not getting what I want or maybe what I think I need.

This shows a lot of filtering, black & white thinking, over-generalisations, catastrophizing emotional reasoning and mislabeling (cognitive distortions) which are deep and not gonna change automatically or without dedication and work on my part.

Resentments: listing them to help them along their way

I resent her.  Mostly physically and it all fits under the umbrella of being a 'real woman' and not the porn fantasy that I brainwashed myself to expect for all those decades:

She's getting older, flabbier, saggier.
while porn gave me never-ending variety and youth and physical perfection.

She doesn't want me more than anything else. She's sensible and practical.  There are scenes in movies and TV where people rip each others' clothes off, oblivious to the rest of the world in their passion and overwhelming desire for each other.  Porn makes me expect this (and her gagging for it with no connection, no foreplay, no work on my part).
Then there's TV shows where lifelong partners undress and talk about their day while climbing into their own side of the bed with their habits formed over many years.  They might might read in bed, they might kiss, they might talk about making love, but they often don't.  Real life means talking about our sex-life, alongside talking about other relationships and practicalities.  Not always sexy.

She doesn't represent fertility.  Her impending menopause has not only put a damper on our love life, but it simultaneously reminds me of both us being in the last half of life and how diametrically opposite from young-sex-fantasy our reality is.  Instead of vagina being a mystery of pleasure and desire, with the period being an ignore-able symbol of her youth and fertility, it's become a reminder of the unsexy practicalities of her childbearing past (along with her drooping breasts and permanently pointy nipple--mutilated by breastfeeding,--something else that's unsexy and not about me.  Every period is an unwelcomed guest which should have left the party long ago.  We're too old now and just want to watch TV and go to sleep.

More Realities.  She burps, she shits.  
I've held women to a double-standard and I haven't minded them working harder to look better, to be attractive even when sexuality isn't relevant.  I can fart, but she shouldn't burp.  Of course her bowel movements are smaller and shouldn't smell.  They should be dainty and really she shouldn't shit at all according to my narrow view that ignores reality and focuses on fantasy and sex for pleasure.

I've ignored the parts of reality that don't fit the idea of youth and idealized sex.  I embrace her breasts as erotic zones, sex organs, a way to turn both of us on.  But I resent the natural and normal changes they've had from the miracle of feeding our beloved children.  I've worshiped her sexuality as a way to make me feel powerful and alive and happy.  I wallow in the peace of mind from knowing she's committed to me and will be here for me for the rest of our lives.  While I simultaneously resent her getting older and changing.  I can't justify having her, enjoying the comfortableness of 25 years' of intimacy while simultaneously yearning for someone young.  I'm not really wanting someone else.  I'm wanting that stupid impossible fantasy of porn.  Porn never gave me children, who really do give my life meaning.  Porn never listened to me and understood me, only an ageing and flawed woman can do that.  Someone to love is what I need as much as someone to love me.  I am working to leave behind the fantasy from porn so I can embrace the real her, and real love (giving and not just getting), which involves pain and lack as well as satisfaction and real connection.

What I Need (on two levels)

On one level, I feel I need sexual stimulation and gratification.  It's my 'go-to' way to self sooth and cope with pain and celebrate and fend off boredom (it's the answer to everything, really).  This supposed need isn't rewarding.  It doesn't delivery what it promises.  I think this is related to dopamine as I'm always chasing and wanting and only feel worse after receiving the fix on this level.  I'm drawn to it but ultimately left bereft.  It's shallow and selfish and it's causing harm to my oh-so-important lifelong marital relationship.  This need seems to run on autopilot.  It's always there and seems to have an endless fuel supply.

I have another need, that can operate at the same time, but on another level. It's a need for connecting and a need to give and love and experience real love.  This need is linked to the big picture and the long game.  I need to know I'm doing the right thing with my life.  I need to grow and improve and give.  I need to mature and develop.  I need to know that when we are intimate, that she's really there because she wants to be.  If we are together out of a sense of duty or if she's just trying to stave off my Baser Needs, my Egoic ID and animal needs, then the real me is left disappointed and unhappy.  This need seems to be related to seratonin as when I feel this quiet and subtle feeling, it's satisfying and there are no cravings related to it.

The only way I can experience authentic satisfaction is by engaging my mind and my heart and accepting that my monkey brain will have to be quieted and my Baser Needs can't be in the drivers' seat.  This means pain, this means discipline.  The problem is that I surface into this higher level of existence periodically.  But I live most of my life unable to tune out the thumping base of Need and screaming nerve endings of physical sexual desire.

I have to keep cultivating the Higher me.  I must keep learning about what my body is doing and I must keep handing over my 'needs' spiritually so I can keep on remembering what my autopilot keeps forgetting:  I am more than my subconscious pain and automatic urges.

I know why I am not good at handing pain from what Gabor Mate teaches.  I know why I am drawn to sexual stimulation.  But knowing isn't enough to overcome it.  I need to keep internalising and understanding while practicing handing it over. I need to wash my brain with the fact that I don't need what I keep hearing I want and need hundreds of times each day.  This obsession can ease and this compulsion can fade.

What it feels like (today)

Two years since M.   I have been meaning to write down the small but significant ways that life has improved.

But first I want to try to capture a little of the overwhelming feeling that I'll call, 'The Funk'.  It's like being depressed, but I feel it mostly around her:  the object of my addiction.  She's the one who insists on treating our sex life as if it involves choice!  Ridiculous!  I'm angry and resenting her not giving me sex, or if that, not really wanting me in our sex.   But she picks up on those negative vibes and reacts by not wanting to come near me.  So the very thing I want, I push it away through my heavy and weird wanting.  Sex isn't really what I need.  What I need is to feel loved and accepted and wanted--yes, sex is my preferred delivery mechanism for all these.  But it's not the only way, and sometimes not the best way. 

It's a quiet weekend together.  We have time to talk and enjoy being together.  There's no reason we might not be intimate together this weekend..... Except me!  My mood, my funk is strong.  I'm very quiet.  It started with my counter, my fair-meter.  I woke up thinking about how she decided to not give me sex last night.  Which then reminded me how often she's done that lately.  Which then reminded me how long it's been since she actually wanted me sexually, enjoying making love to me!.

I'm sitting in a restaurant with her but I can't pull myself out of my wordlessness.  Then she asks me how I'm doing.  I don't know where to start.  I think she's criticizing me for struggling.  I think she's just trying to get me talking so she can give me a quip for how to change my attitude.  I know these feelings are too much about her to talk openly about.  I settle on a partial honest statement, "I don't feel needed by you".  It's true, but I say it because there's a sexual interpretation as well as bigger one.  I try to think of something to say, but 9 out of 10 of my ideas are negative, and most of them are about how I'm upset that she's been neglecting me.  She can feel the 'vibes' coming off me.  My mind is stuck going 'round and 'round about how I'm not wanted, not needed, not enjoyed.  I want to feel better but I'm depressed because I can't.  I know the only road to intimacy is for me to be normal, yet I can't help being needy.  The state I'm in is not attractive, yet I need her to be attracted to me.

Still, what are some of the little things that are different/better after 2 years of no porn:

1) I'm not obsessed about every way she's showing her ageing.  I notice, but it doesn't make me angry, it doesn't take over my thoughts.

2) I'm content with my age.  I walk past older couples and I don't dread the 'writing on the walls'.  I walk past younger couples and I don't yearn for her and pine and ache to be with youth.

3) I can almost always get to sleep at night without sex.  I used to get so angry, that often I'd miss out on that nights' sleep.  I'd be very full of resentment of her the next morning, and maybe through that next day.  Not anymore.  I might be mad for 10 or 20 minutes, but I usually sleep okay and am not harboring or ruminating on it the next day.

4) I can be at home on my own all day, several days in a row and rarely does my mind turn toward addictive sexual gratification.  I used to be hopeless on my own at home, now it's.... just.... fine!

5) I can be at home with her, no one else in the house, and not obsess and get worked up and obsessed until I'm angry and unable to communicate (because of fantasizing and being unable to stop thinking about having sex right there, right then.

6)..

Pep Talk

Is my addiction another part of me?  So many of us refer to 'our addict' as a separate identity, a personified part of our personality.  Is it my inner child that needs to be loved and healed?  Or is it a demonic possession that needs to be rejected and ejected?

I definitely am learning that I need to keep practicing self-kindness and I seem to have a blindspot preventing the good in me, the idea that I am truly loved, it can't seem to get into my heart.  My Ego knows to try to grab affirmation and the shallowness associated with love.  It's my default, and the spiritual program of action is digging a new trench.  What Ego yearns for is empty and never satisfies.  Taking my focus from the lifelong paths and longworn methods of comfort and escape is scary and painful.   It hurts as it's letting go, maybe killing the hope of eternally living in the fantasy of something that I never really had in the past:  never-ending youth.


So, let's practice writing some of the stuff about myself like I'd encourage anyone else to say about themself:

Yes, you feel loss, but you are still in the fight, and you're about to get your 18 month sobriety chip!

Yes, you are still working to accept life as it is, but you don't have to accept the imagined next month or next year or next decade yet.  You only need the nourishment and resources today for today.  Tomorrow will be taken care of when tomorrow becomes 'today'.

Yes, you are helping others, listening, caring, understanding and making a difference.

Yes, you are realising that you are loved.  As you allow the lie that you 'need sex' to be put aside, it makes room for God to bring healing.  On the other side of the pain, on the other side of the healing tears and fear-facing courage is some more freedom, a step in the direction of living in a new and better way, 

You are doing a good job of working to rely on Him, asking for His help, expecting it and trusting. Forget perfection, you are doing fine, you are doing well, you are doing great.

Emotions will go up, they will go down.  You will live, you will die.  You've decided it's better to accept the less-than-ideal today, fact the imperfection of tomorrow, but truly live.  Better to live today in a world that's not a fantasy, than miss out as more real life passes by.  Ageing has meant some things have gotten worse, but isn't it better to be here now than not?

True impact of Porn

She is tired and doesn't have the energy to talk and connect (a prerequisite for sex).  I feel angry or resentful, and continue to do so the next morning.  I've brainwashed myself using porn.  Now I think she should always be there, ready 'on tap', willing and enthusiastically keen.  Porn takes the male perspective of always horny, ready in seconds, stimulated by a little visuals.  Then it portrays women that way.  Well it used to, back in the 80's when I was formative and consuming it a lot.  So I've programmed myself to see it as default and normal for us to start sex for no reason, with no real preamble.  I've focused on the physical and obsessed with the orgasm.

I pray that my brain will be mouldable again, this time to see her as her own self, with different turn-ons, and especially for me to see her as more than just sexual.  Praying isn't enough.  I need to talk to people about this, I need to write about this, reflect on it and keep doing my meditations.

The characters on Brooklyn 99 joke about porn in a way that trivialises, normalises it and ultimately endorses it.  Cool-cool-cool-cool-cool-cool.

Creating for who

I think creativity, expressiveness, is good for our mental health.  Making something is therapeutic.  It doesn't need an audience, it doesn't need to be showcased.  It's the making that's important, not the viewing.  It's the creating that counts, not the displaying.

But we all want our creations to be appreciated.  We put a little of ourselves into them and we hope someone appreciates our work (our self).  Creating is a good quiet and thoughtful activity, like a meditation.  We would do well to focus on the benefits of the process (concentration, developing skills, expressing something intangible) and de-emphasizing the end result, and especially how it will be received by others.

Our desperation for love and acceptance and to 'be known' tugs us toward obsessing on how our work (our self!) will be received.  We can easily fantasise about wowing people, about bowling them over, adoration and fame!

So I'm saying art is primarily for the artist, there's more than enough benefits in creating for the creator, with no need for acknowledgement or appreciation.  Yet people are elevated by art created by others.  We all want our art to help others as much as it can help us, and sometimes it does help them.  But we should be able to separate the audience from the artist and value art for the good it does to it's creator (when in her workshop, working in solitude and quiet concentration) without needing it to then be displayed in public, bought by an aficionado, or appreciated by the like-minded..

seeing beyond now

Learning concepts of a different alternative recovery support group to the popular 12 steps, I've been shown to think of short term perspective versus long term view.

This seems relevant to my blindspot, my mental insanity, the hole in my soul.

I can't seem to choose the long-term benefit of better relationship with my Ever Loving Bride and benefit of a clean conscience when faced with a right-now pleasure.  Why is sexual stimulation more important than being able to look her in the eyes peacefully?  Why does an orgasm right now always win over everything else?

Impulsivity, as shown on Russell Brand's documentary on addiction, is part of the problem.

I had a positive 'ah-ha' moment yesterday.  I was feeling blah and down and of course my mind labeled it all as result of not getting sex; counting how long since we've had 'good' sex.  Then I thought about how true it is that my addiction isn't really about sex.  It's about emptiness or lack or isolation.  That must mean the sad feeling I was attributing to missing a chance for sex really was about something deeper.  But it wasn't about sex.  I guess it's another way of saying, 'This, the sex you are obsessing about, isn't really what you need', which was my mantra for whenever I saw a young female form and was drawn to stare or inhale it spiritually.