Starting Time
9.19.11
Yesterday I came to terms with my addiction. I have danced around the idea, but yesterday I accepted it and realized, after reading about other addicts online, that who they were describing was me. I am an addict. Ashamed of it, yes. My one and only addiction, yes. Humbled by it and happy I've identified it, God yes. For 40 years, yes. And when I realized it, and admitted to myself it is an addiction, the brutal thorns and spikes and dark power was lessened. I made three phone calls to my service. As each different woman talked, and with my awareness of being an addict, their power, the thrill, waned. Each time I hung up before anything was completed. They were giving me my drug, and I recognized it as the drug it was, and did not enjoy that feeling of being manipulated into it. It was not pleasant, and I ended it every time before finishing. And I was overjoyed I didn't go all the way. Proud, in fact. Three times, and I was aware of my addiction, my condition, and that awareness took the hold on me away. I cannot imagine the hundreds, actually thousands of hours I've given over to it. The entire days I've spent, the summer days, winter days, beautiful spring days that have come and gone with me wrapped up in it, with the curtains drawn and my obsession blazing. In the 'zone' and no turning back until I had my 'high', my six seconds of high. My hours of obsessing and six seconds of pleasure. And then the guilt and remorse and shame, and feeling out of control. And then the next time it plays out all over again. Craving the next time. Just like a drug addict. I had my drugs. The Internet was a huge help in supplying. The pusher. I wanted the rush, the ability to forget my debts and obligations, the abandonment, the giving over to it, the euphoria of being in it, the rush. Yes, it is an addiction. I am a sex addict. And now I admit it. And now I can finally after 40 years of humiliation and degradation and loss and anxiety I can deal with it. And recgonize it. And choose to act in a different way. Knowing how I would routinely, unthinkingly act. I have become aware of yet another dark side. A year ago, March 2010, I came to terms with being molested as a young child. Yesterday, September 18, 2011, I admitted I am a sex addict. With these bonds broken, cut, what does the future hold... It may be no coincidence that I'm also in a screewnriting class for the first time in 25 years, and that I wrote three scenes in the last couple days. I've always believed deep in my heart people can change whenever thay want to, given they are motivated to change. I am motivated. I am a sex addict. It has adversely affected my quality of life - my personal relationships, my career, my marriage probably, my finances, my aspirations as a writer. What kind of life could I have if I do not give in to my addiction, and live a life not run by it, but a Life I run? My girlfriend has been an inspiration. I don't want to lose her from it. We may part ways, but I don't want my sex addiction to be the cause. Today is Day 2 of sobriety. I will always consider myself an addict, so as to never lose my awareness of its power. To always be aware it's just a web site or phone call away and back to the shadow living. The escapism, the shame of being controlled. Giving it a name let's me face it down
Yesterday I came to terms with my addiction. I have danced around the idea, but yesterday I accepted it and realized, after reading about other addicts online, that who they were describing was me. I am an addict. Ashamed of it, yes. My one and only addiction, yes. Humbled by it and happy I've identified it, God yes. For 40 years, yes. And when I realized it, and admitted to myself it is an addiction, the brutal thorns and spikes and dark power was lessened. I made three phone calls to my service. As each different woman talked, and with my awareness of being an addict, their power, the thrill, waned. Each time I hung up before anything was completed. They were giving me my drug, and I recognized it as the drug it was, and did not enjoy that feeling of being manipulated into it. It was not pleasant, and I ended it every time before finishing. And I was overjoyed I didn't go all the way. Proud, in fact. Three times, and I was aware of my addiction, my condition, and that awareness took the hold on me away. I cannot imagine the hundreds, actually thousands of hours I've given over to it. The entire days I've spent, the summer days, winter days, beautiful spring days that have come and gone with me wrapped up in it, with the curtains drawn and my obsession blazing. In the 'zone' and no turning back until I had my 'high', my six seconds of high. My hours of obsessing and six seconds of pleasure. And then the guilt and remorse and shame, and feeling out of control. And then the next time it plays out all over again. Craving the next time. Just like a drug addict. I had my drugs. The Internet was a huge help in supplying. The pusher. I wanted the rush, the ability to forget my debts and obligations, the abandonment, the giving over to it, the euphoria of being in it, the rush. Yes, it is an addiction. I am a sex addict. And now I admit it. And now I can finally after 40 years of humiliation and degradation and loss and anxiety I can deal with it. And recgonize it. And choose to act in a different way. Knowing how I would routinely, unthinkingly act. I have become aware of yet another dark side. A year ago, March 2010, I came to terms with being molested as a young child. Yesterday, September 18, 2011, I admitted I am a sex addict. With these bonds broken, cut, what does the future hold... It may be no coincidence that I'm also in a screewnriting class for the first time in 25 years, and that I wrote three scenes in the last couple days. I've always believed deep in my heart people can change whenever thay want to, given they are motivated to change. I am motivated. I am a sex addict. It has adversely affected my quality of life - my personal relationships, my career, my marriage probably, my finances, my aspirations as a writer. What kind of life could I have if I do not give in to my addiction, and live a life not run by it, but a Life I run? My girlfriend has been an inspiration. I don't want to lose her from it. We may part ways, but I don't want my sex addiction to be the cause. Today is Day 2 of sobriety. I will always consider myself an addict, so as to never lose my awareness of its power. To always be aware it's just a web site or phone call away and back to the shadow living. The escapism, the shame of being controlled. Giving it a name let's me face it down
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