I am 44 months into my technical sobriety . Positive sobriety is a moment by moment endeavor. I sometimes hold on to my tokens, but lately I have become less obsessed about my tokens and the length of time I have been technically sober. My mind is a battlefield. I don’t want to be at war anymore, I want to clear the field, I just want peace. But really its all about removing my ego and making good choices and what I am learning today is that I am making bad choices big and small all the time, even without acting out. Sometime I think being alone is the answer. But that is me just wanting to run away and not wanting to do the work.
My mental illness has always been about control power pain self hatred and medicating. I made choices and I am responsible for those choices. I remember the past now. The deep past. Those memories which I hid and refused to look at with the light on. Wounds festered, abandoning myself. I abandoned Kat. I took all the wounds of my family and my ancestors and passed them to Kat.
I turned Kat into the wounded innocent child that was me, except for her she really could not medicate, she only found relief through self harm which could have killed her and could still, once undone that ball of yarn will never be the same. I made Kat into a depressive. Consequences were of the most tragic and real. The universe heard everything and it echos…. I
When I was ten years old I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. I had been diagnosed at 6 years old with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. With the arthritis I would have intense bouts of pain in my joints that would cause me to cry hysterically and put me into basically a default shock state. Ben Gay and Bayer Aspirin were the best treatments back then. Eventually at 10 I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. The ulcerative colitis involved constant cramping and pain in my stomach and my rectal area with constant diarrhea accompanied by blood. The pain was constant not allowing for any normalcy or relief. The theme in my childhood was no control or power over my situation and that I must not be good or have angered God in some way because why is this happening to me. My parents were not equipped to provide a psychological safety net and in fact my mother blamed me for my disease by telling me how expensive it was and the toll it was taking on her and my father. When I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis the procedures I went through were primitive and pain management or ways to minimize suffering for a child was non-existent or after the fact. It was a well intentioned torture chamber. Imagine as a 10 year old child or younger being forced into a position where various scopes are entered through your inflamed rectum and you are pumped with fluids and biopsies and film is being taken. Imagine have this done with no pain killers and told it will all be over soon…Well for a 10 year old it lasted for an eternity and was repeated multiple times. I guess my case of self hatred went into high gear.
Then for my treatment I was injected with ungodly doses of prednisone.
Masterbation and fantasy obsession helped me survive the pain, the lack of control, the self hatred, and the loneliness I felt. It gave me relief from the no control, the pain, and the belief that I was a bad child. That God was punishing me.
Which gets to my next point. The trauma in my life between my illness, molestation at home and religious school and emotional physical abuse at home, between abuse occurring at the hands of my school teachers and administrators, between being bullied, the continuous abuse of my parents and siblings, to a classmates suicide, to seeing a man decapitate himself, to my brother’s eventual suicide, I NEVER chose to get help! To stand up for myself! Even now it is difficult. I NEVER chose to stand up for KAT and my kids at the hands of my abusive family.
It was also clear that I had been abandoned and that I had abandoned myself… It was never about the fantasy obsession, the masturbation, the porn, the acting out partners. It was about control and power on my terms. It was about that child in me. The 6 year old boy, the 10 year old boy, the malformed adult coping with the world around him so he could continue. He isolated himself.
Yes, I made all the choices to be an addict. I am responsible for my behavior. I nearly killed my best friend. I certainly have shortened her life. I have harmed my children immeasurably. I have abused and harmed myself. I have hurt those closest to me and I have hurt others. My bad acts paint a residue that will continue to echo in the universe. But let’s be clear, my addiction, my acting out has everything to do with that that little boy with the wounded inner child that I neglected, that I abandoned. I let the wound fester until it poisoned everything.
The sex is the tip of the iceberg, its everything below. This path is now converging between my therapy and Mindfulness practice. I am very much the same person with the same defects, is something happening. You bet! It’s not exactly clear, but I am for the first time inviting that child out to enjoy life. I am reconciling with myself and learning to be my friend and love myself.
Some days are rough, some days are ungrounded, some days just suck. But to feel without medicating as before is grand indeed! Everything is out there. Do I hate it yes. Am I grateful for it yes. Am I tired? Yes. Do I wish it never happened? Yes!!!!!
I am a sex addict. I will always be a sex addict. Some days I am depressed. Continue reading