The letters I have written to my stepfather are on my mind from time to time these days ... the words that are written there and the memories that are caught up in them. I wrote the letters to unleash the hooks of those memories, and have hopes that once he reads the words of the second letter, which ends with "These are my truths. Now we both know them." the betrayal bond will be broken. Of course, these are only my wishes -- my Higher Power may have other plans. We shall see.
This afternoon, however, I did have a bit of an epiphany as I thought of the words that I overheard my stepfather tell my mother one night when I was about 10 years old. He wanted her to have sex with him and she was resistant. He said, "You know if you don't give it to me, I'll go and get it from Rae. I already did once today." I heard those words in my mind many times until a couple of years ago I was forced to accept them as proof that my mother did know what was happening to me, but felt as powerless as I did to stop it.
As the words ran through my head this afternoon ... "If you don't give it to me ... I'll go and get it from Rae." I realized that this was just the mentality that kept me tied into the compulsive cycle of my addiction. I would seek a man's attention, acceptance and affection and take absolutely all that man had to give, and when he couldn't give any more, when he couldn't possibly fill the endless gaping hole inside me, I'd go after someone else. I kept multiple partners so that I never had to be without my "drug." When I would go from one man to another, driven by my own selfish cravings, I was essentially saying, "If you don't give me what I want ... I'll go and get it from some other source." Like my stepfather, I was saying ... "Do what you will, but I will not go without."
I've said it before ... the disease of sex and love addiction has no boundaries, has no scruples. It is willing to hurt and devastate anyone in its path -- whether my friend or a stranger -- in order to be fed and nurtured. It is selfish and without a conscience. Without my program, it runs my life and ruins the lives of the people around me.
For these reasons, I will keep coming back, seeking recovery and a daily reprieve from the unending need of my addict self.
Still here …
5 years ago
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4 comments:
Rae,
It sounds like you've unearthed a very powerful memory. I'm so sorry for you. The child that you were did not deserve for that to happen.
It's nice when we can answer our own questions, rather than spin out in the did they or didn't they's of life.
Good luck this weekend.
rae i'm sorry you had to go through such a terrible ordeal, i am a newly revealed sex addict (2 months in therapy) that's trying to stay on the road of recovery and your blog gives me great insight and strength.
at least you identified the situation from your past that contributed to your addiction, i am still trying to piece together mine, where did it all go wrong so to speak.
i really admire you for your openess and honesty about how you feel and what you are doing to deal with your addiction and look forward to reading more.
if you ever need to chat email me at bpdguy@gmail.com
Rae,
I don't know what to say. That shouldn't have happened. You should have been protected and cared for.
Lots of people see their inner addict as some sort of monster but I see mine as a protectress without scruples. A strong woman that will do absolutely anything to save me from pain.
Sadly, in the course of saving me from pain, there comes a time when the protection becomes a prison, or the medicine becomes poison. Whatever the metaphor, addiction starts as a friend.
thegentlepath, i used to view the inner addict as my protection as well (before i even knew what it was) protection from the outside world, from the pain.
he did a really amazing job of keeping it all away , in fact if i didn't go to therapy i would have continued oblivious to the damage that was being caused by this "over" protective addict that would do what it needed to make me feel better. i used to pride myself that i was cold and ruthless.
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