My first appointment with Carol

I made it to my first appt. with the psychotherapist today and I feel pretty good. We covered a lot of bases in the first appt. and I managed to convince her to take me on as a client. I felt like she "got" all the right things, and asked some good questions. We set up another appointment to talk further, but really didn't get into when and how we would do the diagnostic tests that I told her I was interested in.

She basically went over my most current history, as well as stuff about my sexual abuse. She got it that I was involved in very risky behavior as an addict, and she got it that my getting "caught" could have been a very devastating thing beyond just my marriage -- but also the reputation of my university and the longstanding effects of such a scandalous "outing" on my career. Although she was skeptical of my reasons for wanting to leave my current therapist, after I shared with her that my therapist had made me feel uncomfortable by continuously sharing about her own feelings about her own sexual abuse knowing I was a codependent, she said, "I had doubts you should leave her. Now I have no doubt that's not a good place for you to be." But before we got to that point, she asked me a very valid question ... "Is this just another way for you to run away?" I appreciated that.

I quizzed her on her experience working with sex addicts, sexual abuse victims, people in 12-step programs. I was satisfied with her answers to all of those. When I asked her if she believed in the effectiveness of 12-step programs she said that she certainly did, up to the point that the program becomes an addiction or an escape itself. Because I can sometimes see myself doing exactly that, I appreciated her answer.

So, let's see how it goes. I'll keep you posted.

My dirty mind

I have spent the better part of the morning either sleeping or in pretty deep despair. The cloud is slowly beginning to lift and I'm beginning to feel like more of a part of the universe.

When I start to try to think of explaining how I feel, what is in my mind, it makes me feel insane (uhh... that could be the first sign), it's just so jumbled. I think over time I have "stuffed" so much, given up so much of myself to one addiction or the other -- be it sex, food or codependence -- that my mind and soul have become like a dilapidated house filled with old, musty, filthy remnants; clothes and linens piled up in an corner, covered in cobwebs and dirt and dust, floorboards rotted, broken appliances and fixtures, dead rotted mice lying about and roaches sneaking out in the dark.

The image reminds me of the house my older sister and her family moved into after their house was destroyed by a tornado. Her husband was a drunk at the time and barely did anything to fix it ... but there were a few rooms that my niece fixed up, made pretty, the best she could. Still, it was barely held together. The inside of my head is like that house. I remember that my niece, who is four years younger than me and as close as a sister and a best friend rolled into one, felt "less than" living there. She was ashamed when the school bus stopped there. She felt she couldn't have certain friends because she could never invite them to her house to spend the night. She gave up a lot of her life because of her shame -- of her stepfather's drunken antics, a house that neither lived up to her potential or over which she had any control to fix.

For me, the shame of what's inside my head is covered up in my "parallel life" -- the life where I am the cheery, supportive, loving, hard working, good-hearted person that most people see. Inside I am empty. All this other "good" stuff is just a fresh coat of beautiful shiny paint, glistening in the sunshine. It's what I want to be and it's what I want others to see. But I feel rotten to the core, afraid to let anyone walk in the door. There are a few people who have made it into the living room, which has been made presentable, but no one, absolutely no one would ever make it into the attic (interestingly, I just wrote that as "addict" before I realized my mistake). My niece and I used to go into the attic of that old house when we wanted to get away from everyone. It was filled with other people's junk, left over from years and years ago, all dirty and nasty. It was scary. It felt haunted with "old spirits." I was afraid to go there alone. But with her, it was fine, we were OK and we had good talks or laughs or even fun.

There are a lot of parallels here ... and I'm glad I started to write. I know I can take my trusted recovery friends with me into the scary, ugly places and not feel ashamed, because it is the love and fellowship that is between us that matters. And with support, slowly I can begin to rebuild -- making clean, clear and beautiful all the areas of my life that have been lost to shame and self-rejection.

It's interesting that I was talking recently with a recovery friend about the gender of my addict, when I realized that the luring male personification of my addict is actually the face, smile, laugh, and feelings associated with my last lover, the guy I slipped with in Feb. and the man who I have been mentally planning to slip with again. I think the somehow the process of going through the decision to not act out is what lead me to these feelings of despair this morning. My spoiled addict was throwing its hissy fit, and in rejection, the addict has no personification at all ... it is simply what it is ... an "it." One day I hope it will become a part of the accepted whole of me, recognized for its contributions and kept in check when it tries to make the rest of me feel 'less than."

Reading some of the posts on my support board about resentment recently, made me think of this thing that Maya Angelou said:

“History, despite its horror, cannot be undone. But when faced with courage it need not be lived again.”

There are a lot of things I don't want to live through again. I got what I needed the first time, thank you. Like many of the rest of my fellow addicts, I have resentment not just against my FOO, but against a whole host of other things. I won't even begin to post them here ... but I can tell you that I resent being an addict. I resent it with a passion. And there's a lot of blame associated with that. I have to let go of both the resentment and the blame in order not to relive the feelings and continue to feed my addict exactly what it wants. Because if I'm honest, realizing I'm an addict is an amazing miracle.

I went to an SA meeting yesterday morning, and in there they read the AA big book. I noticed that in a description of the 4th step in the "How it Works" chapter they actually used resentments as the guide to get started working on the 4th step. I'm edging toward working on the 4th step, and I was glad to see this suggestion for working through the step. It called for the addict to list the person or situation, the cause of the resentment, and I believe the third column was the behaviors which that resentment evoked. (Someone who has the book or who has done this exercise, please correct me if I am wrong.) Slowly bit by bit, I have been edging toward this step (Step 4) that scares me, but then last night in my f2f meeting we focused on Step 6. We read it aloud from the SLAA text and it scared me too. Reading the words about rebuilding, about true spiritual connection -- those sounded wonderful. Reading the words about letting go of all my defects of character, turning over and letting loose these tools that have helped me survive my life. Oh wow. I want that, but I feel inadequate to handle it. I don't feel like I can live without them. I am scared at the thought.

I know I have to work through steps 4 and 5, and really finish up Step 3, although I believe that I have reached some grounding there, before I get there. And that by taking my time, working through those steps, I will be ready when I am ready to move into this very powerful step -- Step 6. That feels encouraging. Although my impatience sometimes makes me want to rush ... to become discouraged with myself, I am thankful that through each step, I am able to work at my own pace, truly absorb the meanings and the feelings, and have hope that I will be ready, truly ready for the next step that lies ahead. There is new hope for my life in each step.

I thank God every day for this program and for the people who have I have joined in this journey. We are walking an amazing walk. One day at a time.

A note to my recovery group

S. wrote:
But then, deep down I also know that when this crisis is over & if I come out of it unscathed, it would be so easy to slip back into my Addict skin & mode of thinking," I'm bored with this, I need more than this".

Dear S. and Group --

Boy, did S. ever catch my mind ... er my addict mind ... at work. I woke up Sunday morning with an image of me my face beaten and bloody covered in bruises -- a reminder of how lucky I was when I was meeting men I didn't know at all, some I had barely talked to, for sexual encounters. I could have been beaten, killed, God knows what, and I'm only lucky that didn't happen. During that time I liked to believe my instincts were good, that I could tell when something was a little "off" about someone. As it turns out, I was right. I encountered a bunch of lonely souls like me ... who were just as risky and desparate as I was.

So then my husband never found out, I didn't get beaten, I didn't lose my job, I didn't get arrested, I'm in recovery, I'm improving my life. I am so freakin' lucky, so blessed by the gifts and the protection provided by my HP. Yet, what does my addict tempt me with ... "It's so easy. You can do it without getting caught, without any consequences at all." Even writing that is triggering to me. When I get in that mode I start thinking ... like the rest of the world, ahhh, it's alright, it's just a little sex. What a powerful, cunning and baffling disease we are up against, my friends.

We are to be commended for taking on this fight. There are plenty of sex addicts walking the streets today who will never admit their problem. We've at least made it to step 1.

So, cheers to you all! And thanks S. ... for singing my song. I needed to hear it today, to bring it out in the light.

Love,

Rae

My daily meditation in my Letting Go book this morning was about what else ... "letting go." But it gave a scenario that I thought made sense. Sometimes when we are in the water, swimming and we get out over our heads or feel overwhelmed by the water, we panic. But then suddenly we realize we don't need to do all this struggling to stay above water, just calm down, be still, doggie paddle a bit, or even just lie back ... and the water will carry us. Struggling and fighting against the water is counterproductive and could cost you your life. The same is true with our addictions and obsessions.

On Saturday morning , when I was hell bent on acting out again, I opted not to fight against anything ... I simply thought, if it's going to happen, it's going to happen. If it's not meant to happen, it won't. I just took it that simply. And, as it turned out, I got sick, and it didn't happen.

I remember a time in my active addiction when I was set to meet up with a guy that I saw pretty regularly, it turned out that he (in addition to being as big an addict as me) had a pretty bad cold. I struggled pretty seriously I remember, thinking "I'm going to get sick if I meet this guy and not only am I going to get sick, I'm going to take my sickness home. " I remember driving to meet the guy, yelling at myself, "What are you doing? Do you not have any more self control than this?" I remember that the struggle was intense in my mind, not only because the guy was sick, but because he had already proven himself to be a tremendous con artist and user. And I STILL acted out with the guy that day (and others to follow). My husband ended up being sick for close to a month ... not to mention me. It was miserable. I wonder what would have happened if I had just become calm and let go of the struggle?

During the times that I think of how powerful my addiction is, and especially how powerful it was when I let it run free, my mind always goes back to this incident. I can still feel the sickness. It was miserable, and miserable to see my husband suffering through it and to know that it came into our house because I was willing to use and be used by a man who didn't give a shit about either of us.

For those of you who have not subscribed to the Hazelden "Gift of the Day" list, this one was perfect for me. To read, "Would you put a friend through that?" That was perfect.

Today's thought is:
Friendship with oneself is all-important, because without it one cannot be friends with anyone else in the world.--Eleanor Roosevelt
In recovery, perhaps first we make peace with ourselves, and not until later do we become our own friends. We have been at war with ourselves and in turmoil with our families, even while feeling like victims. This program lays out Twelve Steps we can follow to become friends with ourselves. In recovery we may still feel self-hate when we constantly monitor our every action, when we react to our mistakes by berating ourselves, and when we dwell on past offenses. Would we put a friend through that?
True friends will accept you as you are.They don't put you down or call you derogatory names. They'll give you honest feedback and won't put on a false front. They'll support you when you're in trouble. Being our own friend means doing these things for ourselves. Perhaps we can even embrace and be kind to the part of ourselves that is addicted and codependent.
Today, I will be a friend to my whole self -- even the parts of me I have rejected.

If there were no fear

Caroline Myss, a holistic teacher and an expert in self-esteem issues said this during her keynote address:
There’s a difference in living your fate and living your destiny. On the train of life, destiny is the engine and fate is the caboose that is dragged along. One leads, one follows. Destiny is what happens when you follow your instincts. Fate is what happens when you have to live with the question of what would have happened if I had listened to my inner voice? Walk on this Earth with courage, because if you don’t, someone will have to lead you.

So, the first question is ... are you living your fate or your destiny at this point?
I think because I am early in recovery and still trying to find my way that I may still be living my fate. My goal is to live my destiny. I think I do my best to listen to my inner voice, it's just that sometimes the voices are too intertwined. The other day I had to pray ... "God, I can't hear what you are saying here. You're going to have to straighten this out." Then only one voice came through.

Second, Myss says, "One of our greatest fears may be the reality of being empowered."
What would empowerment look like in your life, and what about that empowerment scares you most?
Empowerment in my life would be a self-assured person, clear on the direction I am going, fully present in my life. I would be able to live my life based on my principles, and be clear on what my principles and values were. Basically, empowerment would be living my life for me and by me.
What scares me most? That's a lot of responsibility. It is hard work living like that, without an escape, being held accountable. It's easier to just run away and hide. But that has gotten me no where.


Third, how does fear feed your addict?
Fear of being alone feeds my addict in a significant way. Fear of accepting myself as I am may mean that others don't accept me and I'm still afraid of that.

Lastly, what would you do if there were no fear?

Fear is both good and bad. If there were no fear I might get pretty cocky, release my need for others and for my HP. That would be detrimental. However, fear also stops me from making the needed choices in my life. If I were dreaming ... and there were no fear, I'd quit my job, go to Arkansas for a few months, do research for the book I want to write based on the mountain people there, then go and live in India for a few more months and write the book, as well as write a few short stories from there. I'd have complete faith that when I finished that project I would have a meaningful job when I returned to the U.S.
If there was no fear, I'd tell my husband everything and say I need you to be as honest with me about how you feel about staying in this marriage. Then I would have the courage to accept his answers and make the right choice.
If there was no fear, I'd take on the cause of mental health and the issue of sexual addiction in a grand scale way as a lobbyist and activist.
The truth is ... there is fear, but I don't have to let it rule my life. I just have to make the right choices, knowing that the wrong ones can have lifelong consequences.

Awareness

A recovery friend said something to me yesterday that made so much sense ... it was so true for me. She said when she married her first husband, it was to bring an unmanageable life under control. As soon as she said those words, I knew that she had spoken my truth.

Before I met my husband 10 years ago, I was living very much the life that I have lived over the past year in my active addiction -- unaware that it was an addiction to sex and love at work. Being with him and married to him has kept my addict at bay for a few years ... and then suddenly he wasn't enough, and there was a fear that our marriage would be lost to his inability to be present with me and provide me with the love and affection I needed. Whether I realized it or not ... my codependence on him coaxed my addiction to the surface, giving me an "out," an escape. I said to myself ... you can make it work if you are not too needy, you can make it work if you get your needs met elsewhere and just bring what you have to offer home. You can have everything you need. But then what I found was ... where I was searching, in empty sexual relationships with men who cared nothing about me was that I got nothing close to what I needed. I was torn further apart. Filled with less and needing more.

I have a chance to live a more clear life because of the me that recovery is revealing. I never again want to make my decisions based on fear of being alone, weak and unprepared, but rather with complete consciousness and assurance that I took advantage of every opportunity there was to receive the blessings of love and hope that have been waiting for me all along. The day will come when I can actually ask for what I need and not feel selfish. That is the healthy life I desire.

Update

Well, I got sick with a flu and what seemed like inevitable didn't happen ... I didn't call this guy to go meet up at some flea bag motel for four hours of sex, which is what you can get for $30 these days.
I also realized there are people in the world who are suffering through REAL problems -- bankruptcy, divorce, problems with their kids. I got it easy. It should be easy for me to forego a horny urge to get laid.

Still sober ...

... and barely hanging on today.

For those of you who think I'm a drunk ... no ... I'm a sex and love addict and sobriety means I'm not fucking around with some guy who I'm not married to -- read all my early posts if you really want to know more.

The weather was so beautiful yesterday and rather than enjoy the gift of the beauty of spring, my addict came into full swing, sabotaging any thought of that. I was already feeling very "vulnerable" -- doesn't seem like the right word considering my state of mind -- and then I got an e-mail invite from a former DOC to hook up Friday night and if not then Sunday. That didn't help much, but I managed to hit delete. But the joys of spring must have had him by the .. ahem .. oh sorry .. I meant, heart as well. Because on my drive home, the phone rang ... the number showing up "unavailable." Because I get work related calls all the time that show up that way, I answered ... to a bright, cheery, fully engaged voice on the other end ... and man, did it feel good. I'm not going to lie for a second. There's no reason to lie. I can pretend and say phrases and tell myself you're worth more than this and all kinds of stuff, but guys none of it matters to me right now. Long story short about the phone call ... I talked, but didn't make any plans, although I didn't stick to any hard line like "I'm in recovery and I won't see you," either. He was clear that if I were not driving to meet my husband to go to dinner with friends there would have been nothing to stop me.

Making plans is on my bottom lines ... once I tell someone, yeah, I'll see you on such and such day, there's no going back. And even though I have made no verbal commitment in my mind, I know that in my heart I have already made a commitment to be open to the idea of making something happen on Sunday. I'm already making plans to "prepare" for something tomorrow. All of these things are dangerous, very dangerous for me. I'm less than a breath of throwing everything away ...

For a long time I have not "wanted" to do this ... I have just resisted little temptations. Now there's nothing I want more. I want that buzz, that high, that thrill. I can visualize and feel the smile on my face. It's not about the sex for me ... it's about the moment ... living in that fun, carefree moment, where nothing else in the world matters.

I've written to my support group, begrudgingly. I don't want anyone to talk me out of this. And frankly, I don't think anyone can talk me out of it. But, what I am doing is having faith that despite my best and worst efforts, God will handle this for me -- someway, somehow. As the song goes ... sex is natural, sex is good ... I know feeling sexual is not wrong. So, I'm going to let those feelings go ... knowing I am powerless over them, and trust God to take care of the rest. He's got the road map and the more I try to control, the more I'm going to mess it up.

Sometimes I feel awkward because none of the men I want to sleep with really mean much to me. It's not that they are worthless creatures, it's just that it's understood that we are using one another. None of us are looking for love. That's so different than many of you here ... who got tied up in addictive relationships with people who you care about. Perhaps I'm more of a sexual compulsive than a sex and love addict. What do you think?

Rebuilding

A member of my online support group wrote: "I now live in Oklahoma City and I spent Thursday afternoon at the memorial of the federal building bombing."

I visited the Murrah Building memorial last year in OKC and was moved deeply. It's amazing how they have put the whole thing together, a true rememberance of the terror the day's events and the lives that were lost.

My visit to the memorial was actually only a short time before I attended my first f2f SLAA meeting. I was feeling like my life was in shambles -- maybe because my insides were. But as I went through the memorial, heard the sounds, felt the commotion, then heard the stories of aftermath -- what it meant to the city, to the country, to the world, and then more closely to the families whose loved ones lost their lives -- I cried and shook inside. I remember it took me a long time to settle down after we left. It wasn't that I was still crying, but I was still feeling, still shaking, still shocked.

And what I think now as I look back on those feelings I know they hit deeper -- to feelings that my insides -- my heart and soul, my mind -- feel like they have been bombed, blown to pieces, and so much has been left in the wake. I feel empty and hollow, love is only able to pass in and out. There are survivors of me, people who have loved me, who still love me, who mourn the loss of my spirit and soul and wonder if I'll ever be rebuilt. Friends who have been neglected, a husband who can only do his best, and a family that both scares me and makes me sad. I wonder if I ever will be rebuilt. There are glimpses of reconstruction, but the foundation is being laid very slowly.

I can't help but imagine the grassy outer area of the memorial, where the copper covered seats line up row after row, facing the clock that marks the time of the attack. I've been trying to think of what those represent in this analogy to me. And I think it is that only one of those seats belongs to me. I am not alone. Through this program, we all come together for strength and hope, and rebuilding.

And, together, lined up row after row, we represent a beautiful image of peace and serenity, a memorial and testament to all that has been given, all that has been taken and all that has been left behind.

Thank you to every addict who walks with me. Today, I do not feel alone.

Catch up

Most of the last posts ... in fact all of them for a couple of months ... have been copy and pastes from other things I have written. The letters to my fathers, from my stepdad (who I call Daddy) and even some old letters to lovers that somehow I didn't want to get rid of. I think I wanted to have the letters to remember the pain I felt back then.

I am now four months sober of sex outside my marriage, if you discount a slip I had back about this time in February. So, technically, I'm only one month sober -- but I'm trying to be clear about how far I have come.

G. the guy I slipped with, has not returned calls or e-mails -- so I'm assuming I pissed him off. That's good -- one less thing to worry about.

I met in NYC last weekend -- a week ago ... wow, it seems like years ... with a group of my online support buddies. It was a wonderful, amazing experience. We had an actual "meeting," complete with the steps and a prayer at the end, right there ... with the world going on around us. I think one thing may have been the place. In NY you can be invisible.

I have no feelings about the letter from my stepdad. I guess those will come. I expected he would write me and say most of the things he said. I didn't expect how I would react.

A reply

I got a reply today from my stepfather.
It read:
To answer your question, yes, I was sick for a long time then.
I did love you, I still do love you.
It was not your fault. It was mine.
The good Lord forgave me for all of my sins. I wish you could too.
I am all right now, except for being toothless, going bald, going blind and all of my other troubles.
I probably have less than five more years to live (with my emphysema), so please let me live the rest of it in peace.
I have thought about just leaving it all behind and disappearing for good.
S. (my niece who will soon be three years old, who is often in the care of my dad and his current wife) is going to live a good peaceful life, without anyone bothering her, or I will get up from my grave and do some rear-end kicking.
Love you,
Dad

And even further

Someone asked me some questions about my biological father, which I mentioned in one of my postings earlier in the week. This is what I came up with ...

As for my biological father, I also wrote him a letter. I mailed it late last year. In it, I said, as a child I spent many years hating you ... mainly for how you treated my mother and abandoned her and she didn't deserve that. As an adult, I can tell you that if you need forgiveness, you have mine. My biological father and mother married when they were 17 and 15. They grew up in a tiny, tiny town and were basically forced together by their parents. He went into the military and they traveled around the country from Army base to Army base ... my three siblings were born and then they returned to settle not far from where they grew up. He went to work as a cross-country truck driver and was on the road most of the time. He soon met another woman and began spending part of his time with her. After a while that time became more and more until he left my mother with three young children and no education. His family and my mom's family helped some, but they were all poor. My brother went to work at 14 years old to help pay the rent. When my sister was a teenager she began to act out -- sleeping with boys, staying out late, these things. He told my mother, "She wouldn't do these things if she lived in my house." So my mother said, "Come take her to your house then." So, he came to our hometown to pick up my sister. That night in a moment of weakness he and my mother had sex. I am the product of that encounter. A pure unwanted, unneeded imposition, resulting from weakness.
Before my father returned to this other woman the next day, my sister decided she didn't want to go live with him. So, my brother said, "I want to go." My biological father's response was "You can't come, because Frances (his girlfriend) doesn't know about you. She didn't know I had kids until I was forced to tell her about Debbie (my sister) because she was going to come live with me."
I only heard this part of the story four years ago. I always thought I was the only one who was ever rejected. It was very humbling to know that we were all rejected.
Anyway, so the letter I sent to him just said -- it's clear that you loved this woman you left my mother and your family for. You are still with her after all these years. I understand how things happened and I no longer hate you.
At the bottom I wrote ... you don't need to acknowledge this letter, I wrote it for me. He never responded.

Thoughts finally surfacing

I have been quiet lately, a bit isolated. I don't understand all my feelings, but this morning was able to write out some things that I need to share. I thank you in advance for listening.

Back in December, before the new year started, I wrote a letter to my stepfather telling him how f*cked up my life is, how depression and overwhelming feelings have rendered me almost helpless – unable to work, unable to function. (I didn’t say anything about the addiction.) I told him that I had finally reached this stage because I had come to grips with the fact that the secrets of his abuse I had kept all these years were killing me. “I pay the price every day. My husband pays the price every day,” I wrote. Now, it is time for you to pay the price and face this – Why did you do this to me? I told him that I had no grand scheme to start telling the world, but that I was now saying the truth out loud, and that if there was ever any indication that he was abusing his granddaughter the way he abused me, I would make sure he lived the rest of his life in shame.

I have carried this letter around with me … in my purse since then. I shared it with my counselor and with my husband. They both encouraged me to send it. My husband said, “Why should you be the only one to suffer?” I told him then that I for some reason still felt the need to protect my father (sorry … I never call him my stepfather, he raised me from 9 months – it’s hard for me to get in that mode.). I was afraid of hurting him. I know that this is more about my obsessing need to ignore myself and look out for someone else’s feelings. But, the reality was, I was afraid of hurting him – this man who has so selfishly hurt me, stolen my innocence, and asked me to kill myself by hiding all the hurt inside.

I mailed the letter on Sunday. I was cleaning out my purse, and there it was. I took it out of the tattered envelope, put it in a new one, addressed it, and put it with a stack of bills to be mailed. Later, as I dropped it in the mailbox, a minor fear struck me. I thought to myself, “You can never get it back.” Other than that, on the surface I have felt pretty casual about mailing the letter – like it was time, and I did it. But these fleeting moments of desperation about other things – things like what I talked to my friend about yesterday – tell me that there are things that lie beneath.

On Monday, almost without prompting, it suddenly occurred to me that the three most defining points of my life came together on a single day in 2003. It was the day of my mother’s funeral, I was 25. My biological father, who I had never seen, and to this day has never acknowledged me as his own, came, passed by the family, touched my hand, and never knew he was touching the hand of his daughter. He even came to the cemetery and I had to “protect” myself from being near him. I remember saying to my cousin, “Please if you see him coming near me, save me.” I hated him for coming to the funeral. As if 17 years of marriage gave him any right to show up on the most traumatic day of my life, and pay his respects to a woman he had shown such utter disrespect for in the past. Little did I know that the day would only get worse. Later that night, after the family had cleared out of the house and I was alone with my father, he called me into the bedroom like he had done so many times before when I was a child. He began to talk to me about his sexual relationship with my mother, and then began to talk to me about a prostate surgery he had had a few years back, and then asked if I would like to see the scar. I said no … still the scared child couldn’t scream. He pushed a bit further and said, “It’s not really wrong, you are not my real daughter.” It was then, for the first time, that all the hurt of my childhood came back to me. I just looked at him, tears in my eyes, and said, “Why are you doing this to me?” The only response I can remember was, “I never meant to hurt you.” And I remember him reaching for me and holding me like his child as I cried, and the child inside me felt good to be held by my father, the only father I ever had.

I read these things now and want to wretch. I am angrier with myself than anyone for being so weak, for being unable to see the truth. I never had a father who loved me and I never will. I was willing to run from a man who hurt me only by his absence in my life, and willing to take solace in the arms of a man who had done me so much harm by his own sick and pathetic weak presence in my life.

Still, this morning, as I started my morning prayers, I felt the disconnect that sometimes comes – the inability to feel that I am in communication with my higher power. Those are the times that I try hardest to reconnect, and finally after all the usual methods, I began to pray out loud, thanking God for “all that had been given, all that had been taken away and all that had been left behind.” I prayed some more asking for God’s will in my life today and then I said, “Lord, watch over me today …” and closed my eyes and said, “Momma please watch over Daddy, he will need you.”

I don’t understand why I care. This hurts me in a way that only nothingness can hurt.

Answering a question, finding love

This morning, someone posted a question on one of my support group boards, expressing confusion over the meaning of I Corinthians 13, which reads:

If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I have
become sounding brass or a tinkling symbol.
And if I have prophecy and
know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so as to remove
mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
And if I dole out all my
goods, and if I deliver my body that I may boast but have not love, nothing I am
profited.
Love is long suffering, love is kind, it is not
jealous, love does not boast, it is not inflated.
It is not discourteous, it is not selfish, it is not irritable, it does not enumerate the
evil. It does not rejoice over the wrong, but rejoices in the truth
It covers all things, it has faith for all things, it hopes in all things,
it endures in all things.
Love never falls in ruins; but whether prophecies,
they will be abolished; or tongues, they will cease; or knowledge, it will be
superseded.
For we know in part and we prophecy in part.
But when the perfect comes, the imperfect will be superseded.
When I was an infant, I spoke as an infant, I reckoned as an infant;
when I became [an adult], I abolished the things of the infant.
For now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face.

Now I know in part, but then I shall
know as also I was fully known.
But now remains faith, hope,
love, these three;
but the greatest of these is love.

Like all "sacred" scriptures ... whether they be poems or religious text ... it is not the words that tell the meaning, rather the reader's interpretation.

The most important part of this scripture to me is the last three verses. This again is my interpretation ... When we strip away all that we were and all that we are, when we stop seeing the world as a child, but rather as an adult, fully aware of our imperfections, accepting of them and allowing others to accept them as well, what is left is hope, faith, and love. The most important of these is love. Why? To me, hope and faith are ours alone. Love we can share with others, and it is the sharing of love that binds us together and sustains humanity.

You and I both, and maybe all S&L addicts, struggle with what exactly is this thing called love. I don't know the answer, but I don't know that I have to right now to continue on with life and continue to follow the inner voice that speaks to me. And I know I will never know it, until I commit myself fully to understanding myself and loving me. Once I love myself, put aside shame, blame, guilt and all those negative images I have of myself, I will know the answer to the question ... What is love? Then I will be able to share that love -- a true love with others.

This was my "Letting Go" meditation today. I thought it was pertinent and wanted to share it:

You Are Lovable

We go back ... and back ... and back ... through the layers of fear, shame, rage, hurt, and negative incantations until we discover the exhuberant, unencumbered, delightful, and lovable child that was, and still is, in us. From Beyond Codependency by Melody Beattie

You are lovable. Yes, you.
Just because people haven't been there for you, just because certain people haven't been able to show love for you in ways that worked, just because relationships have failed or gone sour does not mean that you're unlovable.
You've had lessons to learn. Sometimes, those lessons have hurt.
Let go of the pain. Open your heart to love.
You are lovable.
You are loved.

Today, I will tell myself that I am lovable. I will do this until I believe it.

What was ...

On Nov. 29, 2004

J.

We can either continue to hurt each other unintentionally, or we can just call this off all together.

Regardless of what we say, we want one thing (sole committment from one another) and do another.

When I fell rejected by you, I do my damndest to find some other means to feel accepted, or some way to mask the pain. When you feel rejected, you have your own way of dealing with it. Either way, it's all counterproductive to the reason we started this in the first place.

Blame is not going to fall on either side. I've made my mistakes and misjudgements, and you've made yours. In between, we've harmed what was something amazingly good.

I thought after we started "going on our way" that my way was going to be to give up chat and these sexual escapades all together. We'd had our fun and it was clearly over -- you'd moved on to more exciting things. Instead, in order to mask pain and what felt like rejection, I've found myself in a worse situation than I ever expected. I want desparately to hold on to you -- a place I never should have been, yet have no faith that you want me for anything more than a "stash." Thus, I seek out new people, people who keep you from mattering to me -- even people like the doctor, who simply convince me that nothing about this matters at all.

I know you won't respond to what I've said. ... but know that I'm sorry for hurting you, and for not being strong enough to handle things a little better. I have no interest in hurting you or fighting with you anymore. It's a waste of energy. We've spent our energy in good ways in the past. And for that I'm thankful. For what we are going through now ... I'm sorry.

Rae

And a month before on Oct. 1 --


Dear J.,

(Yes, one day I'm going to hear your thoughts on all this ... )

I think this morning was great because, to me, it felt like what was happening really was an extension of our sharing. Your pleasure was constantly in my mind. I felt that everything I was doing with Terry was in some way giving you pleasure, and I certainly know that seeing you with Tammy, and knowing and hearing the pleasure she was feeling made me feel good that the guy I call my sexy lover was making another woman feel so good. And I heard you enjoying her sucking, I was so aroused, so thrilled. When Terry was moaning when he came, I was hoping you could hear him and got a thrill from knowing it was your woman that was making another man feel like that. When Tammy was moaning from your touch, your tongue, your cock ... I was thrilled beyond belief. When I joined Tammy in sucking your cock and your balls ... I can't tell you how turned on I was by the fact that I was taking part in something that I knew you'd fantasized about extensively and were finally getting. I don't know if I'm making any sense, but I hope that you can understand what I'm trying to say.

And one little thing that I wanted to tell you that drove me through the roof ... when Tammy and I were both sucking your cock and I went deep down on you and you said my name ... wow! I could have almost cum.

Funny how none of the above is what I sat down to write ...

What I sat down to write is that at some point when things settle down a bit, I'd like to talk to you about what's on your mind. Ever since I came back from vacation, you have been "different" with me ... more reserved is the only way I can describe it. It may be that you've had a horribly busy time at work. I certainly think that's the case this afternoon. But it's not this afternoon that I'm talking about ... it was earlier in the week, even when you were here. You seemed a bit like you wanted some distance. I just want to open up the door, if there's something we can discuss. The range of things that run through my mind as possibly being wrong run everywhere from you're really feeling a need to focus on work and think that I demand too much of your time in chat (which I do, and I'll understand if you say so. We could both use some time to focus on our work) ... to not just me, but all these horny girls after you are too much to keep up with while trying to maintain your sanity, to maybe you're feeling the need to be a little less exclusive. Maybe you enjoyed that "thrill of the chase" with Tammy and Jo while I was gone and are feeling a little smothered by how we've "defined" our relationship. Or maybe it's none of this ... I don't know. But you told me once that whatever is on our minds, whatever we are dealing with, we should be able to talk about it. And, I'd like to, when you get the time. At the same time, I want you to know without hesitation or worry, that I'm willing to give you some breathing room, a chance to explore if that's what you want, or even just a chance to work, if that's what you need. But I think what we have is special, and even if we have to take a break or simply "come up for air" ... I want you to continue to be a part of my life in some way. And I want you to feel free to tell me when something is on your mind. So, at some point, in your time ... let's talk.

Love,

Rae

and on Dec. 10, 2004

G,

Hope that you are doing well and that your week has shaped up OK. Mine was long, but not too tedious. The weekend is here, so that's good, even if it is raining like crazy.

I wanted to write you a note and tell you that I've decided to take a brief break from "this" -- this meaning extramarital activities, online searches, all the stuff associated with that life. I think over the past few months, I've let it sap a lot from me, and I just need to step away and sort of take an inventory, so to speak of where I am in my life, and rejuvenate. Put my head on a little straighter.

I realize that you and I have just sort of started something, and haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together -- but I don't think it's fair to either of us to proceed half-heartedly. Rest assured, that this decision has nothing at all to do with my interest in you. Without a doubt, hands down, no-holds barred you are the most skilled lover I ever encountered and I have enjoyed immensely the time we have spent together both sexually and in conversation. I mean that truly.

Still I know that I am off-kilter, not prepared to give you what you need or want right now ... and I don't want to be that to anyone, especially not someone as giving as you are.

So, that said, I'll step away and see where the next step leads. I'm not saying goodbye -- although you may decide that's best for you -- I'm just saying for now I'm taking a break. Again, we'll see where the next step leads.

Thanks for everything. I hope you will understand.

Take care,

Rae

and then on Dec. 16, 2004


Gary,

Hi.

Hope you are doing well, surviving the cold and the busy holiday season. On my end ... life is manageable, kinda.

I needed to write more to you about my "break," what brought it on, etc.

I really should have taken this break after my "disconnection" with J. My perception of the relationship I had with him, and the reality of what it was hurt me more than I probably still know. It was not that it hurt me so much that he didn't think of me in the way that I thought he did, but more that I allowed myself to be made such a fool of, and put my guard down that far. Also, that I was not more in control of my emotions -- knowing, going in, that this is just sex for fun, I fell for words and ignored actions.

But to be honest, J has only a little to do with this whole thing. Over the past few months, I became obsessed with sex, sexual pleasure, the pursuit of it. It was what my life revolved around. My work suffered, my self-esteem suffered, a lot suffered. To get a cheap thrill, I was paying a high price. Ironically, the reason I began pursuing an extramarital affair was because I felt a void of intimacy and closeness at home. What I ultimately ended up doing was using sex as a drug to "medicate" the feelings of loneliness and isolation. I came to the realization slowly that I had to stop that.

I wrongly started something with you, feeling insecure, untrusting and just plain numb. Pure fucking was fine ... 1. because it was so good and 2. because I thought, that's all there is anyway and 3. because beginning a relationship with you did "medicate" what ailed me. In the meantime, I was thinking, "This guy could have any woman he wanted. He's way too good for me. You're just available, he's available and you are hooking up." If I dig way down in my psychoanalytical mind (psycho being the key word there) ... I know that I also simply thought that we'd use each other and then you'd be gone, off to the next best thing. And I'd be in the same place ... Lonelier, more isolated, with a bigger void than ever.

I'm not trying to paint myself as a martyr here. I know full well that I have used men, including you, for my satisfaction -- ignoring whatever truths existed in order to pursue my own pleasure, momentary sense of connectedness. I am not proud of that fact, it gnaws at me every day. But I know that I need to break the cycle. I need to face myself instead of running away from the things that caused me to hurt in the first place. (That's a lot longer story that I won't subject you to.)
I know this must sound like total lunacy and I'm not sure why I felt I needed to write it to you. I think in one way it is a confession. In another it's an apology. In another it's a way of saying, you matter more than just walking away -- I felt I owed you some kind of, no matter how cryptic, explanation, but mainly an apology for drawing you into something where I knew there were questionable issues.

I am willing to be friends. But I'm also willing to say, I fucked up, I have some serious issues to work on, I'm sorry for all I did wrong, thank you for everything good that came out of the brief time we spent talking and together. Both are true.

Thanks,

Rae

Love is a thoughtful, committed decision

Written to two support buddies today, and first introduced to me by a man I met at a park for a quick blow job -- a man who was before and is now, my friend.

Regarding love being a feeling or a decision -- I fought this concept of love being a choice tooth and nail. NO WAY, I said. As you said, it's either there or it's not. I'm not trying to answer the question for everyone, but I do believe that true love is decision we make, not a feeling by which we are overwhelmed. Now, that's not to say that those feelings that overwhelm us about someone, might not lead us to make the decision to love that person, but the feelings of excitement, etc. are just the high. True love, -- again, my opinion, my personal answer to the question -- is the decision to commit ourselves, our lives, to a partnership with another person, whether romantically, in friendship, or in family. Part of making that choice or that decision, is being sure of ourselves, who we are, what we deserve, and what we are willing and able to expect and ask for from the relationship, as well as what we are willing to give.

I won't pretend that I've gotten to the point in my self-esteem to make these decisions. I have come to the realization, that I must first learn who I am, what I stand for, and why I want to exist. Then, I will have the awesome responsibility to choose love, rather than be overwhelmed by the distorted depiction of it I see all around me.

Prayers on the roller coaster

It's amazing the difference in attitude, when after a good night's rest, I wake up and say a prayer, even a short one -- expressing thanks and asking for blessings and "thy will" for the day -- before getting out of bed.

Just in the few minutes that it took for me to go to the bathroom, read a meditation on financial responsibility and walk out the door to see my husband sleeping peacefully on the bed -- I was blessed with the mental reminder that the fundamentals of any relationship, especially a marriage, are love, honor, and respect. I have the opportunity to share those attributes with my spouse today -- I am not alone, I am not struggling to rebuild my marriage while fighting against his knowledge of the times I showed nothing close to love, honor and respect for him or me, I am blessed.

What a roller coaster we live on, my friends. Thank you for being there in ups and the downs. I am blessed to have you as well.

In thanks and honor to each of you who are struggling, but thankfully are living,

Still around ...

Well, my addiction certainly knows how to remind me that it's still around. It also knows how to remind me that I have to work the program and keep to my bottom lines if I ever want to get through this.

Today I took off work. As of yesterday I started talking with a couple of recovery buddies online. What a mistake. I know better. Today, I signed on to messgenger "visible" ... only kind of by accident. The same shit happens every time, and somehow I can't get it through my head that it's all destructive.

Anyway, as I was saying, I took off work -- so I had the "urge" to chat with the new recovery buddy. In the process I got IM's from two guys I formerly had "relations" with -- one who did the usual disappearing act.

This probably all started by me sending that e-mail to E. a couple of weeks back. Then this past week I sent an IM to J. One of my bottom lines is NO contact with him. He didn't IM back. Then just now I checked his profile and he's taken off all references to sexual issues. Of course, now I'm going to obsess over whether he got caught, if he's found someone that he really is willing to commit to or what. Maybe he created a new screen name. All this causes me soooo much confusion and why the hell am I wallowing around in it. It's useless and I know it. And now I feel so ashamed. Now I have to confess all of this to someone.

Not to mention the fact that this afternoon I talked to one of the former DOC's who I didn't even like, but who is my neighbor and who keeps hounding me to get together, because he heard what a good BJ I give and asked him, "Have you talked to J.?" Fucking A. what is wrong with me. So after this, I start reading online erotica, go to the movies and mb. in the theater. What a horrible addiction and affliction this is. Now I'm going to rot in all this.

Of course, I have the choice not to. I also have the choice to get right back into this whole mess.

I should not have watched that program this morning on Good Morning America about the rising number of unfaithful wives. They were basically condoning sex outside marriage. RRRRR

I'm going to write to a recovery friend and then get busy. SHIT!

Some Step Work

Make a comparison table where I had to list what was real versus what was unreal in the relationship. For every real list an unreal.

1. (Unreal) - Because men chose to speak to me and engage in sex with me, I was worthwhile.
(Real) - Because I was sexually available, but emotionally unavailable, men wanted to talk to me and have sex with me. In it all, I (the real me) was worthless.

2. (Both real and unreal) I felt wanted and desired (the unreal part was they didn't really want me and desire me .. I was just an object.

3. (unreal) I was getting away with it, at work, at home and in my soul.
(real) I am so behind at work, it's unreal. At home, things were suffering and I couldn't look at anything good my husband was doing. In my soul, I was slowly eating myself alive.

4. (unreal) I was the only woman in each of these men's lives.
(real) Just like me they had one side f*ck after another.

There's many more ... but that's enough for now.

How did it make my life unmanageable?

I was constantly online, talking to men day and night - at home and at work, on the phone and meeting them in person. I put off deadlines, I put off work. I was afraid I'd be fired. I should have been. I was afraid I'd lose my marriage. I would have deserved it. I was obsessing beyond belief. When I wasn't doing one of the above "actions" I was obsessing about the next conversation, finding the next person, keeping my hold on the the people I had.
What was the payoff?
I felt desired, wanted. I didn't have to feel alone. I was leading an exciting life. I was "the best" at lots of things.
Who did I hurt?
My colleagues, my husband, my family. I hurt the men I was involved with, by helping them to continue their own addictions and I hurt their families, their jobs. Most of all, I hurt myself.

How was I at fault?
I'm confused about the answer to this. The program might tell me I wasn't ... that I was diseased. But if anything, I kept letting it happen, even when I knew it was wrong. My amend is that I have stopped and am trying to stay that way.
What should I have done instead?
I think at the time, I did the only thing I knew how to do. In retrospect, I guess I should have just never started chatting with men online. But that doesn't even seem like it was an option at this point. It was of course, but it doesn't seem like it now. Everything just happened. I guess I still am deflecting a lot of the blame.
History of the relationship.
I'm not sure I understand this question as it relates to me -- but there was more than one "relationship." My relationship was with one man after another who I met on the Internet and later met offline for sex. Some men I'd had several conversations with before meeting them, but in the worst of my addiction, I might talk to a guy for a few minutes and meet him a few minutes later for sex. Others, I would have "committed relationships" with. What a joke. It's all so surreal now, yet I still feel closeness to some of these people. It's unreal.