Loving myself

Today I am focused on learning to love myself, give love to myself. To many people, I am one of the most loving people they know. I give lots of love and support and before I got so far into my addiction that I started to isolate from everything and everyone ... I was the most considerate and kind person I know. I have always done for others, put others first. I learned this in my family ... make other people's happiness your number one priority and that makes you a good person.

I am only now beginning to realize how badly I have hurt myself and others by doing this. Since I've been in therapy and in recovery ... I've heard many times, "You've got to learn to love yourself." Every self-help book you read says we must love ourselves. I would say, yeah, yeah, I know. I know it's about me not loving myself. But lately I am finally, after all these years beginning to "get it."

I will go out of my way to give other people, whether close to me or not, a lot of love, put them first, make sure their needs are met. I will call them when they are sick, check on them when they are having a hard time, speak kind and loving words to them. I will always take the smaller, less messed up version of the meal, take the smaller cookie, all so the other people can have the very best. When my husband says you need to be my secretary, my social agent, and stop crying ... I do all of it, because that is what he needs, even though it makes me feel less than. When my stepfather would call me into his bedroom while my mom was away shopping, I went, because that's what good little girls do, even though I dreaded going. When my husband hints at sex, even though I don't want to be with him and having sex with him feels like what the sexual exchanges with my stepfather felt like ... I still just grin and bear it and go on, because that's what good wives do.

It's only in recovery that I have began to give myself the good things of life -- to go to meetings when I need to, to listen to my body and my mind, to pray for strength, to say no when I need to. I am FAR from where I need to be, but I am thankful for the conciousness.

Emotions vs. Thinking

Over the past few months, I have realized what I am trying to achieve in therapy is a sense of wholeness. Due to PTSD and other issues, I have spent a good part of my life living what amounts to two lives. There is always a secret me, a part that I am ashamed to show to the real world. I learned to live this way as a child – I kept the part of me that was ashamed about being abused, ashamed about wearing yard sale clothes to school locked away deep in me. I always knew that person was there, but I didn’t acknowledge her.

A few months ago, the therapist had me do an exercise in which my logical self (my thinking self) had a debate with my emotional self. What was revealed was very, very telling as it relates to not only my desire to achieve wholeness, but the two parts of me that still exist. The first therapist I ever saw said that my ability to disassociate with one set of feelings in order to operate in another was the equivalent of multiple personality disorder, though I don’t quite go so far as to give my personalities names and I know myself as both personalities. So, as I did this debate between my logical and emotional parts, I sort of revealed to myself some of the traits of both personalities that fight for control in my subconscious.

My logical self is basically the part of me that has lead me through the most “successful” periods of my life – helped me to go to college, helped me to work my way up the ladder in my career, find a handsome, ambitious husband filled with the wonder of a million new things. But then, low and behold that emotional self, which had not had a chance to live began to kick and scream, wanting a real place in my life. That pissed the thinking self off. She had always been in charge, and she was safe and she wasn’t going to give in to any flighty emotions. Emotions are bad things that create problems, she said. Of course, over time, the emotional side had grown, right along with the thinking side, but simply had been stifled and pushed aside – especially in a marriage where emotions were also not seen as healthy, but rather unhealthy or weak.

As it turns out, I have unconsciously been working toward wholeness for a long time – but there is a severe battle between the emotional and the logical parts of me. The logical side, the thinking side is bound and determined that it has to be in control and is very bitchy and condescending to the emotional part of me, the part of me that feels so needy and almost empty at times. The emotional side is a bit smug as well though … feeling that the logical side can “think” it is in control, that it can function without emotional healing and love, but knowing that in fact the thinking side is really miserable without befriending the emotional side, and eventually must learn to co-exist and unite with the emotional part of me.

For years, I have craved and hungered for someone to just hold me, tell me they love me not just in words but in actions, feel good being next to me, touching me. I have wanted someone to hold me while I cry, to tell me how good it feels just to laugh with me and to be close to me, to be honest with me. I have wanted to separate the distance between myself and another human being, to show that I was not repulsive, that I was worthy of love and capable of it as well, that I could be touched and not hurt or made to feel dirty. The child in me that was violated wanted to be touched in healing ways that showed me that my body was good and sacred, to be soothed and comforted, to be spoken to in soft, vulnerable tones that let me know that the other person was opening his heart to me as well.

I have tried to control my husband into doing these things, shame him when he didn’t give me what that child was craving, but somehow I could never just open my own heart enough to show all my hurt, and to ask for help in healing, to say this is what I need and why. I tried, but always in ways that were not direct, again, often shaming and blaming, or lashing out when I was really needing something soft and loving. In retrospect, I think it has been ironically hard for me to trust that someone, anyone could or would actually want to help me in the ways I have needed them to. I have wanted their help, but I have closed them out. I remember so many times I have yelled at my husband, “Please, just let me in, just let me see a little bit of what is inside of you.” But all he was seeing of me was my frustration, my weakness, the results of that inner turmoil, of my need. He had fallen in love with the logical self, and never knew the emotional self existed. I never trusted him with most of my real feelings, I was never truly honest with him about many things. When I began to be severely depressed and seek out emotional support wherever I could find it, I closed him out completely. He would ask me how my counseling went, how my meetings went – I would never tell him much more than “fine,” “good,” “OK.” I could never bring myself to tell him what took me to that counselor or to those meetings. I still can’t. I have no idea why …

Through counseling and recovery work with others who suffer from the same sorts of problems, and special friendships I have began to be honest, to see what it feels like – very freeing, the world doesn’t fall apart just because I show myself to it. But there is still something that prevents me from being totally honest, afraid of judgment, afraid of losing control. Most of the time, I just want to run away and hide in a world where there are no feelings. But I know that is killing me too, slowly and surely making me completely insane. I live with a civil war inside my head day after day… how to free myself, I have no idea.

I guess the only answer is one day at a time.

My state of mind

Many of my conversations with my therapist focus on what is real and what is not real. I am a person living with PTSD, sexual compulsions and people and food addictions. Those things are a part of me, but they don't define me. They do, however, at times make it hard to see me -- even for me, thus my dilemma with what is real and not real.

So during a conversation with my therapist yesterday I shared that I had felt a lot of depression, cried a lot, felt overwhelmed as time moves closer for me to move yet again to be with a husband who I love, but who does not meet my emotional needs for support. He is someone I cannot be honest with. It's not that I choose not to be, it's when I try to be honest with him, either he turns his head, or I just can't get it out. So, I've given notice at my current job ... and moving forward as if I am going to leave and go be with him, but I have no real desire to go there. I feel like going there will dissolve all the work I have done to get better -- all my work in therapy, all my work to heal from my sexual abuse, all the work I have done to manage life with all the above mentioned issues. I will just go to him, exist with him in a financially secure world, with no emotional support.

As I talked about this in therapy, I described my feelings as two worlds about to collide -- the part of me that has lived in an emotionless marriage, who disassociates from the trauma of my abuse and strained relations with family and friends and the part of me that needs love, support, caring and compassion. My therapist told me that these increasing feelings are real, that my feelings of being overwhelmed is real, and that my pain is real.

I replied, "but I don't feel it as pain." She was puzzled and said, "But you felt pain on Saturday when you laid in bed and cried and screamed, and you felt pain today when you stayed home from work because you were feeling so depressed." I said that's not pain... that's insanity. She smiled and said that my mind was playing some clever tricks ... letting me hide out in the idea that I'm insane, rather than feel pain.

My mind, which is a constant state of civil war, is a source of pain ... it holds memories, it creates chaos, it helps me function and keeps me from functioning. My only key is acceptance. I accept my life, and trust my Higher Power to guide me, pray that I can get out of its way, and have the courage and strength to do the next right thing.

The truth

The truth is ... I feel like I am insane. I can't make decisions, I can't take action. I am making decisions, I am taking action.
I didn't go to work today. I told them I had the stomach flu. Truth is it was damp and rainy and I didn't want to go and I wanted to stay at home and read some self help stuff and write and watch TV and check out of the world. I went to an Al-Anon meeting instead and changed a few lives by sharing with the group what my therapist had told me about the fact that I can't make decisions and have no idea what's real because I have no foundation. I have spent my life trying to please others. I have no idea what I want. I just want to hide the truth most of the time.

I am not responsible for my life. I don't go to work a lot of the time. I lie and say I have meetings and come home and nap or drive around and do nothing. Or I'll go in late and say I've been meeting with someone or did some work from home. The fact is I probably literally work about 20 hours a week, and get paid for 40. When I'm at the office, I often type e-mails or read e-mails or have idle, useless chat with people who don't really matter to me. They are just a diversion from actually showing up in my real life, where I have to be responsible. Right now it is 12 noon, and I haven't showered, I havent' changed out of the clothes that I wore home after I left my boyfriend's apartment this morning.

The truth is I am afraid I can't work. I was doing some job search stuff this morning and I found a couple of jobs that looked interesting in the city where my husband lives and where he thinks I am moving at the first of April. I had posted my resume on the site, with the address where my husband now lives as my address, but I couldn't bring myself to push that little button that says APPLY NOW, to send it to the employers who might hire me. Likewise, I can't bring myself to look for work here where I am now either ... even though I've given my notice at my current job and know that reality is going to kick in very, very soon.

I'm married to one man and practically living with another. The 'other' man is the one who I can tell my secrets to, who listens to me and tries to understand me, who holds me when I cry, who has helped me to heal, but who is afraid to make Valentine's Day plans with me because he's afraid my husband will fuck them up, by calling or texting or doing something incredibly stupid. I can't tell him that I'm afraid that I can't work, because he's just making it financially himself. If he has me and his ex and son to take care of ... that's way too much. Besides that ... I need to be responsible for myself. But not wanting to be responsible ... wanting to hide away, is the reason I feel my husband is a safety net. If I finally decide I can't work ... he makes enough money to support us both. God, I hate being the person who is writing this. I have a lot of hate and self-loathing now.

I read something I wrote in February 2001 yesterday. That's how long my life has been so fucked up I can't imagine that I ever thought I was going to be a success.

My Two Selves

Yesterday I did some work with my therapist trying to clear some confusion from my head. She asked me to have a debate between my "thinking" self and my emotional self. I changed positions on each end of the couch in order to have this debate. Essentially, my thinking self told my emotional self that it was the reason for all my problems, and my emotional self was a smartass and said, "Oh yeah, well without me you can't feel a damn thing."

I've done a lot of good work with the therapist and on my own lately. Some things I've discovered:

• I may have married my foreign-born husband who has a totally different culture than mine, a different lifestyle, a different way of loving, to escape everything that was known to me. Yet there is still a small child in me that cries for the familiar -- who wants to have things and relationships that are very familiar.
• I need love and affection because I have old wounds that need to be healed. It's OK to need those things.
• My thinking self tries to stay in control, pushing the emotional side away, so that it can remain in control. But that does something bad to the emotional side that I'm not completely sure of ... but am working on figuring it out.
• When R. -- the other man in my life -- tells me that my marriage sucks, I feel ashamed and judged and it causes that emotional side to throw up a big wall.

My husband has a new job now ... he's moving away. I'm staying put, at least for now. I may never join him. It all feels weird, but that it is happening without decisions being made.

Change, fear and acceptance

Change happens, fear appears -- we either act, accept or become paralyzed. For me, it's easy to become paralyzed on issues that really get to the heart of my underlying fears. While with recovery, it's easier to become accepting of things that I might otherwise have considered dramatic, I can become paralyzed either in addiction, procrastination, or avoidance.

I am currently trying to decide ... trying to hear my heart, avoid my own willfulness ... about whether to leave my husband, how to do it, when, etc. I can't hear the answer clearly. Even though it's getting clearer, I still get confused. I know it's because there is interference between me and my HP. Or maybe I'm not listening with the right ears, the right heart. I hear the truth -- there is no emotional support, no physical intimacy, no friendship, just a partnership and a lot of familiarity. Hell, I'm familiar with a lot of things. Doesn't make them good.

I guess I am learning patience -- boy, am I tired of it. I feel like my life is on hold and I'm sitting here spinning my wheels, knowing there is something better out there, seeing it with my own eyes.

But ... I'm not sitting still. Things are changing. The acceptance I talked about is one of them. Two weeks ago, I miscarried a child I didn't know I was carrying. I have felt confused ... confused about even how to feel. The child may have been my husband's or it may have been the child of someone else, but the child did not come to full life. I accept that the HP that controls the bigger universe knows that there are multiple reasons that child was never born.

After that miscarriage, I saw clearly that my husband (who had no idea the child might not be his) will never be able to support my emotional needs. I accept that it might have taken something this tragic for me to realize the depth of his emotional unavailability. In fact, I've known all along throughout my years of acting out that I could get pregnant if I continued to act out and go on sexual binges. And, even as I write, I accept that I have not supported my husband's expectations and need for fidelity and support either. I accept that I am the only person who can decide if I am willing to continue in the marriage and there are reasons it shouldn't be an easy decision.

I have also seen in all of this my pattern for seeking out love where it is not available. I have realized that over the years, starting with the biological father who caused my existence but never claimed it, then the stepfather who began sexually abusing me when I was three -- I have wanted men to love me who don't have the capacity to love me. Sitting at home this past week, I was reading back over a journal that I have kept since 1989, and saw that a male friend, a guy I called my best friend, has consistently not been there for me for more than 17 years. But I kept going back to him for love, not romantic love, just the emotional support that a person needs when they are happy, sad, or hurting. Never once when I really needed him, has he been there. It caused me to think of other men, friends and lovers... all I wanted was for them to simply love me, to see my worth, to not use me, to be there for me as I would do anything for them, to win their love, acceptance and support. But I've never been willing to walk away and simply love myself, to care enough about myself to fill that hole in my heart with the power of the greater universe, my HP. My need for and attraction to those emotionally unavailable people was based on history ... needing to right old wrongs. I see these patterns now, and it is helping me to accept them, to walk away, and see the truth.

My stepfather, who I had purposely not talked to in more than a year, called me last week after he heard about the miscarriage. He said he was sorry to hear about what had happened. At the time the call came it was disturbing, I could have wailed and railed. I could even have pretended that I actually knew whether it was guilt or true concern that caused his call. But the point is ... it is what it is. He called. It was more than what some people who I've sought to right his wrongs with did.

I don't know

Where to start ... I sit here today, having thought of all the consequences of the disease of addiction ... thinking about so many things, thinking about numbness, realizing that I just had a miscarriage of a pregnancy without knowing who the father of the child was. It could have been my husband's, it could have been my lover's, it could have been two or three guys I met during a "binge" in my addiction. The percentage goes to my lover ... but that's almost not the point. A life has been lost, people are feeling sorry for me because I have miscarried. And no one, not even me, knows the truth.
I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just sitting here with my mouth open wondering how far will this all go.

Today

As I start my day today I have so many men crammed into my head that I am worn out just thinking of them. And, yet, to escape, I spent a few hours online last night and probably more today chatting with more men who are trying to escape the humdrumness of their lives. I just finished reading "The World According to Garp," by John Irving. A predominant theme is how powerful lust can be, and the damages it can do in relationships. Lust ... it doesn't even seem to be the word I should use for the force that draws me to other men. Obsession seems to be a better term.

This evening I will meet a man at a motel for sex. I've had sex with him once before. Quite frankly he is less than desirable, but his own lust makes him persistent. I am just ready to be rid of him. So, I'll fuck him one last time and then tell him I can't see him again because my lover is moving closer and I can't risk being caught by either my husband or my lover. That was my plan, and then he was out of touch today ... so, I guess I won't fuck him, but I am going to have to get rid of him.

There is another man who has professed his love to me ... his undying devotion. He has lost his job, is going through divorce, and is about to head into bankruptcy, but the most prevalent thought in his mind is that he has found the woman of his dreams -- me. The only problem is, it's becoming more and more obvious to me that he is not the man of my future. He is not responsible for his own shit, and depends upon me for his happiness. I don't have enough to give for that.

And now my sponsor -- yes, the one who is supposed to support me -- continues to seduce me, to tell me he loves me so deeply that the only way he can show his love for me is to seduce me into phone sex. Then he is silent. I received an e-mail from him at lunch saying that I should not obsess over men who eat human flesh with a nice chianti. Basically, he was saying that he doesn't want to play, that he controls the faucet for when we intrigue and when we are just good friends. Tell me this? How is this different than the way I have been treated by the men who have hurt me most ... my stepfather who incested me and my husband who is sexual only when he wants it? All I want from them, need from them, expect from them is love. And all they need from me is sex.

I know that I just need to get back to my "real" life and leave all this behind. I am just not sure where my real life is.

After a long time and stuff

It's funny that after all this time, there are times when I get anxious and can feel myself, in boredom or in loneliness, wanting to go out in search of someone new. I don't want to do anything but just play with them ... maybe just online, probably so. I just want something to fill the void. But even when I try now, I can't really get the hit.
My sponsor in the sex addiction recovery program successfully seduced me a couple of weeks ago. That is somewhat unbelievable. I haven't sorted out the feelings on that. At some level that is numb, I feel betrayed, and I feel shame and guilt. I don't know if it's best I not feel at the moment. I feel a little overwhelmed with feelings.
I am seeing someone now, seriously considering leaving my husband -- not for the other person, although there is talk of "our future." Rather I am beginning to see that there has been truth all along in my feeling that there is something missing in my life and in my marriage. The age old question arises -- do I accept what is, or do I reach out for something more? That something more feels challenging, sometimes in a good way, at other times in an uncomfortable way.
I don't know, just felt the need to connect here, to this old confessional. Only one person calls me Rae anymore. But I still know who Rae is.

Awake

Once again the addict has awaken me. Rather I should say I woke up from a dream, felt the emptiness in the bed beside me, and the addict took over my thoughts. My husband sometimes goes to work in the middle of the night -- yeah, he's really going to work, he has no time for other mistresses, this one minds his obsessions day and night. And sometimes while he's gone I wake up too. Sometimes I'll sit on the computer and chat with people who make their living at odd hours -- horny men or lonely men, just looking for someone to talk to. After all, I'm just a horny, lonely woman looking for someone to talk to and misery loves company.
But tonight I didn't even need the computer for the addict that lives inside me to get me all worked up. I'm addicted to escape -- usually it presents itself in an overwhelming urge to find someone to, simply put, fuck. It's the finding, not the fucking, that gives me the high. Sometimes the sweet taste of chocolate, bite after bite -- or even other foods -- that take me away. Tonight, I woke up rather obsessed about how in two weeks when I slip away for the weekend with a guy I frankly don't even like, who I know is an alcoholic, I'm going to drink vodka with him with wild abandon. He's going to smoke a million cigarettes, and I might even smoke some with him. And I know he's going to drink. The addict in me who has never shown herself to be an alcoholic, even in the college and after college years when I did drink on a regular basis, but now she craves a new vice. Sex isn't cutting it anymore. She even feels drunk and slurry as she writes. Oh, what sweet escape. How long will she scream?


By the way, for those of you who check in on me now and then ... I'm still alive. My recovery from addiction goes up and down and as you can read today -- it's on a down plane. But I've started to see a new therapist and am hopeful. I don't come here to write anymore. I'm not sure why. I've thought about it a few times -- both in times of acting out and in times of recovery. Could be because I never use "Rae" anymore. I've become "Staci" to all those horny, lonely men. But I'm still the addict who needs confession, especially on nights when she wakes up feeling drunk and aching for a drink, even though she hasn't had a drop. Cheers!

Where I am Today

So, I'm back to my old tricks ... it's no surprise. Anyone who has read this blog for any length of time, knows that I have these ups and downs ... periods of so-called "sobriety" where I live like a normal human being, followed by self sabotage. It's the story of my life actually. I've battled the same struggle with weight loss.

I sat down to write about my escapades, but somehow I'm even now ashamed to write about the myriad of men I have entertained and the hours I have spent pursuing them. I still say "I want my life back, I just want to be normal." But I have not done what it takes to make that happen.

It's all simple actually, tell the truth ... be honest, live an honest life, never do anything behind someone's back that you wouldn't do in front of their face. How hard could that possibly be? I ask myself that question ... and find nothing but fear. So, what am I afraid of? Afraid of losing control ... ha ha ... isn't that funny? My life is spinning out of control and I'm afraid to lose control. How bogus.

I haven't given up hope ... in fact these days I'm feeling a bit better. I'm not sure I have more resolve to stop my behavior right now ... but at least a little more a part of the human race. I just have faith that whatever will be will be ... and I've just got to get through this part. Yesterday I told my husband I was on the verge of checking myself into a mental institution. I still am not sure that's not the best answer. But on the other hand, it's probably just me looking for another escape. God knows when I'm going to stop running and start standing on two feet exactly where I am. But I still have faith it will happen. It won't be a miracle ... I'll have to do the work, and there may be disasters bigger than I can imagine before I get there ... but this is where life is. This is where I am today.

Back to Reality

Well, I'm back home for about four days and I have already acted out. I spent Monday on the computer all day and yesterday I met one of the guys I had been talking too and gave him a quickie BJ in my car. So much for serenity.

I had a breakdown with my friend M. last night. He started talking to me about "the program" and the steps, and I just said, "I don't give a fuck about Step 1 or Step 12 or any other step. What I see is that after a year, I'm right back where I started. I want my life back. I'm tired of being obsessed with sex."

He rightfully told me that I have to take my life back. But, damnit, I'm tired of trying, only to find myself right back where I started.

I was away from my husband for two months, and I guess that I thought I would come back and he would have miraculously changed -- but no, he's still the same callous person he was when I left. While I was away he called me every day. While I am here he just talks to me in the same rude way he always has -- barking and forgetting that I need affection and love now and then too.

This morning I went to sit down with him while he got ready. It was clear he didn't want me there, since when I told him something he started his usual barking.

There are plenty of people who think I should just leave him. But the truth is that somewhere beneath our issues I love him. I don't know what the right thing to do is anymore.

I feel that my addiction is totally separated from all these frustrated feelings for him. In other words I don't consciously think ... "Oh he was a jerk today, I'm going to go find someone else to fuck." Rather I just detach myself from reality and escape into a world of sexual fantasy. Common sense tells me there is a connection. I think it's probably one I don't want to make.

Where I am today

It's only a day and a half before I leave for India. I have a major story to write, packing to do and the house to clean and organize. I have put off a lot of it. Yesterday I did very little. Last night I went online and chatted with a couple of 28 year old guys. They were horny and I just humored them with talk. It's hard to say if it's a slip or a slide -- but it wasn't healthy. Still I'm not feeling guilty. It happened, it's over. This morning for the 40th time, I uninstalled messenger from my computer and will just refrain all together from chat. I only use it to fill time. I need to find new ways to fill time. If I don't, my addict will find them for me.

So ... here I am typing on my blog ... needing to be working. That's where I am right now. But today, I still feel the peace from going to visit my stepfather on Monday. I know that I'm going to be alright. I may not be perfect and life will likely throw me some major curveballs ... but I am going to be OK.

When faced with a decision

I woke up this morning faced with decision of whether to visit my stepfather or not. My choice was to visit him or go to India for two months and worry that he might die while I was gone and leave me feeling that I’d made the wrong choice by choosing to continue my silence.
The program teaches me to face each day the decisions that lie before me. This one was a little bigger one than whether to clean the house or goof off all day. I looked the decision in the face and wrote down a number of truths about the situation, then I prayed for clarity. I went to an Al-Anon meeting and the reading there was about the Three A’s – Awareness, Acceptance and Action. I spoke frankly with the group about my dilemma and several of them lauded me for my courage to face the issue of my abuse at all. But one gentleman, Charley, spoke directly to me. “I’m very familiar with the situation you are in. I did make the visit and he did die two days after I left. I’ll never regret that I did it.” I shared that I didn’t know what I was going to say, but that I had turned the whole issue over to my HP and felt compelled to make the trip, and had faith that whatever needed to be said and felt would be there. Charley said he also didn’t know what he wanted to say either … and in fact he didn’t have to say a word, his father brought it up. “I just gave him the dignity of listening.” That’s exactly what I needed to hear. By the time I left the Al-Anon meeting I had the clarity I needed and I expressed thanks to God for that. I came home and got ready and left.

So many people, including Charley, have said, “You don’t owe that bastard a thing.” And every one of them is right. But in my heart, the person I am, being bitter and resentful and spiteful feels contrary to my purpose. I have only recently realized that I can follow my own heart without condoning someone else's bad decisions. I will never accept what my father did to me as a child and then later as a young adult as right. It was horribly wrong. But for me to use it to hurt myself over and over again is no longer his wrong -- but my own. I realized that I needed to visit my dad, not for him, but for me. I needed to show love where there had been none and give him the dignity of saying whatever he had to say Above all I needed to tell him that despite it all … I love him. And that’s the truth. I needed to be honest with him and give him the opportunity to be honest with me, and then I needed to be done.

I felt at peace as I drove the hour and a half, and when I reached there, there was a bit of tension in the air, but within 10 minutes my HP presented the opportunity for me to talk to my dad alone. He was showing me an addition he had built onto the house and before we left that area, I asked him to sit down so we could talk. I asked him how he was doing and he expressed his true concerns for his health. He said he was dreading the prostate surgery and that his lungs were not working very well, but it was only through continuing to work on projects around the house that he could keep going. I didn’t feel pity for him or sadness. I just listened, as one caring adult to another. And then I said, “Daddy, I just came here today to tell you that I love you.” He said, “I know that. I never questioned it. I love you too.” I paused so that if he wanted to say anything else he could, and he didn’t. But, I wasn’t disappointed. I had said what I went to say, and I went without expectation of him, what he said was inconsequential. I didn’t need anything from him anymore. I had released, in my decision to go there and express my love, all the need that I have had of him for so long – all my need for approval, all my need for love, all my need for him to be a father, all my need to forgive him. Now I see him as a man, who has been sick with the very real and difficult disease of sexual addiction and obsession for a long time. I owe him nothing. He owes me nothing. I am me. He is him.

I am finished using what happened to me as a child as an excuse for what is happening to me as an adult. I am finished blaming the past on the decisions I make today. I knowingly went to see my father today, and from this day forward what I do, I will do with keen awareness. I will make mistakes and I am still an addict who has to be ever vigilant and committed to my program. But the decisions I make will be mine; there will be no buffer, no excuse. If I decide to screw up, it will be because I decided to screw up, not because I am the victim of childhood abuse. My addict will play its role in my life, but I have the tools, and the HP to keep that in check. If I choose not to use those things, that is my choice, not a result of being a victim.

I don’t intend to have a relationship with my father or really my sister (who I also saw today). I won’t ignore them if they call, but I won’t run from them or toward them either. If they disturb me, I will set boundaries. If I want to see them, or my niece and nephews, I will do that without hesitation. But I will feel no obligation toward them again. I released that today.

I have also decided that I will no longer lie about my abuse. I will not make a bold announcement, or an announcement period. I will protect my own privacy. But if someone asks me if I was abused, I will straightforwardly say yes. My past has helped to shape my present, but I will no longer let it dictate my future. I will not be ashamed, and if I am, I will demand honesty of myself.

I cannot express in words the peace I feel today. Serenity – which I have ask for – has come to me.

My life is a HUGE success

I'm happy to report that I'm in a much better place today than I've been in a while. I've recommitted myself to my bottom lines of 1. No sex outside marriage; 2. No online chat and 3. No planning for future liasons. I have also established eight daily top lines and committed myself to those. I seem to be focused on those now and that is good. Struggling with the bottom lines makes it all the more hard for me to truly benefit and succeed at working my program.

My sponsor asked me to say "thank you" 300 times a day, so this morning I went out and got started. I said "thank you for ..." and got up to 112. I said thank you for everything and everyone that I could think of at the moment. I may have to say the same things 288 more times, and some things I wasn't exactly sure what I was thankful for (particularly people), but I said "Thank you" anyway. Because if I can find something good in every Harry, Dick, Tom that I decide to act out with ... I can surely find something to be thankful for in the people who are around me.

I started thinking about a "recipe for success" that one of the doctors gave during the seminar I attended last week. I like it. It went like this:
1. Write down everything you DON'T want for your life.
2. Write down everything you DO want for your life. (Write in great detail)
3. Bring your mind and body into a place where you can feel what it would feel like, and imagine what it would look like to have those things.
4. Take action to achieve those things you DO want, staying focused on your goals for success.

I also remembered that I never sent you guys the affirmations/quotes that I said I would send.

The best affirmation is kind of long and you have to say it strongly to get the full effect. It goes like this:
Today is a great day and I have the opportunity to show up as the best me ever!
My life is a HUGE success!
My beliefs create my reality. I think big thoughts and relish small pleasures, and handle all setbacks gracefully.
I am deeply grateful for all I create and receive.
My life is now in total balance and ...
I am the best!
It may be difficult to believe, but it does feel good to say it. And we're supposed to fake it til we make it ... right?

So here are some other things for you guys about thoughts. As I look at them, they are not really affirmations, but simply truths (at least to those who believe them).

Negative thoughts with negative feelings isolate me from my creative energy.
I am a product of my beliefs.
I am a chained slave to anyone I hate. Hating ruins my life.
It is not what is said that hurts me, but how I respond to it.
Nothing is good or bad unless I think it so.
The most important thing to change is my belief.
No one else is responsible for the way I feel.
Whatever I have done, I will learn from it.

All of these things point to one thing for me -- When I have negative thoughts, energy, emotions, I create a bad place for me in life. If I can replace those negative thoughts with positive ones I improve my outlook on life and my ability to learn and grow. For example, if I just take the first quote and say "Positive thoughts and positive feelings connect me to the universe," I feel so much better about myself. When I replace hate with love, I remove turmoil.

One thing that my sponsor has been trying to get through my thick skull is that this is a simple program and the answer to all issues are in the steps. Honesty is the fundamental tool for recovery, because telling the truth sheds light on the dishonesty of our disease. That is pretty simple ... but not easy. Anyway, something I've realized in trying to grasp this fundamental truth is that "Who wants to be that simple? There's no drama in that." We've all talked about this before ... drama is so much a part of our lives. The "thrill seeking" of our disease often put us in danger and harmed us in many ways. But I see that I continue to get "wrapped up" in the drama of my life, even if it's sometimes just in my own head, because it's the only way I have practiced thinking. The idea of "total balance" seems "out of whack." It's good to know there's always a way I can continue to grow.

Today

Today I have plans to act out ... to meet a married man for sex in a hotel. He seems very loving and sensual. Likely we'll enjoy each other. I don't feel the usual struggle. I know I'm wasting my time and this is time that I could be using to move forward. But I'm not. I'm where I am and I just want to have sex with strangers and numb the pain of being close to my stepfather who sexually abused me for 10 formative years of my life, the pain of moving back to a place I consider home and still feeling isolated because that's where my addiction takes me, the pain of ... who knows what. It's easier just to take a big ol toke from this weed I smoke -- sex.

A day in the disease

WARNING: This post contains numerous ugly truths that may be potential triggers for sex addicts, PTSD suffers and recovering alcoholics. It also contains some ugly reminders for all who suffer from the disease of addiction. I am not proud of any of this.
---
This morning I woke up at 5 a.m. I got up and gathered my recovery books, and 12 Step Prayer book and went outside to pray and meditate.
By 6 a.m., I was in the midst of a call to a recovery friend, talking about a very harrowing recollection I’d had the night before of one of the instances of sexual abuse from my childhood.
By 6:45 a.m. I was taking a refreshing walk around the neighborhood, feeling blessed to be energized.
By 7:30 a.m. I was on the computer, engaged in intrigue, much like what I’ve been engaging in for days.
By 9 a.m., I’d only stopped my acting out long enough to feed my husband breakfast (he had gone to work at 5 a.m. and returned to take a shower) and drink a banana smoothie for myself.
By 9:30 a.m. I was engaging over the phone with someone who I had discussed meeting in person. When that was done, I was right back to the computer and ignoring reminders from my HP to end my intrigue with a 23 year old boy who had approached me. I told the boy my conscience wouldn’t allow it … he pleaded and ..
By noon, the 23 year old boy with a bright future ahead of him was standing naked in my house.
By 1:30, I had spoken with another potential victim of my addict, who turned out to be a man who lived directly across from my bus stop when I was growing up. His children are older than me. Even after learning all that (except for my identity) he still was insistent that he wanted to have sex. At least I had the good sense to turn that down.
By 3 p.m., I was making up lies for how I could be out of town tomorrow night to meet a man an hour away.
By 5:30 p.m. I had asked another man to meet me for a beer at a bar 45 minutes away. We barely intrigued as we drank pitchers of beer together, and enjoyed a relatively good conversation. After he asked me to order the third pitcher of beer, he began to tell me the story of how two years ago he was involved in a five hour standoff and shooting with local police and was released on probation and a requirement to attend four AA meetings per week. “Let me put it this way,” he said. “I had 8 days until tonight.” I told him I was in another 12-step program and had been sober for three months until Sunday. Then I told him, “I gave you your drink … now I should make you give me mine.” We both passed on that one … as I had to come home to my husband, who was sleeping on the couch. He never asked anything and now at 10:30 p.m., he is now in the bed sleeping soundly, unaware of the truth.

Just like alcoholism, this disease is progressive. There are those who can get their fix off a single encounter. For me, it never ends with just one. The bingeing cycle is no different. I pray that today has been enough, and that tomorrow will bring me silence and sobriety. I pray for forgiveness and offer thanks for another day to grow one day at a time. I realize this post focuses on the problem, not the solution ... but that day is coming.

Hysteria is scaria

Sometimes the disease gets me, and sometimes it’s the depression. Today my anxiety roared out of control. Although I didn’t have a full blown anxiety attack, I went through an episode that would have caused a sane person to shiver. I was unloading boxes with my husband and he was trying to steer me to do the things he wanted done, rather than work on what I was trying to get done. I gradually began to feel anxious and got irritable. As the anxiety spread, I had to hold back the urge to scream loudly through clinched teeth. Finally he went to the other room, but it was already too late, I was in full blown mode. I couldn’t gain my composure and began to cry, feeling afraid of myself and my ability to keep things together. I tried to shake it off by continuing to work on the unpacking project, but it didn’t work. By this time I was feeling like I had cheated my husband … that he did not deserve to have been brought into a marriage with someone who was losing their mind. I decided to lie down and walked by the office door to tell him that I was going to rest for awhile. On one hand I didn’t want him to see me crying, on the other hand, I really needed him to comfort me. He barely glanced at me, as he said, “OK” to my statement I was going to lie down. I knew I needed something from him. I went back to the door and said “Can I talk to you?”

He came into the bedroom and I tried to tell him what was going on inside my head, but it was too confusing for even me. I just told him that I never thought I’d turn out this way, that I didn’t want to hurt him with my sickness, that I didn’t know what to do and that I was worried I was never going to get better. If all of this sounds hysterical (and not in a funny way), it was. But not nearly as hysterical as it got. At one point, he said “It’s going to be OK, just climb into bed and take a nap,” and I went absolutely berserk. I began screaming and crying at the same time saying that going to bed was not going to solve the problem, that nobody understood that there was something wrong with me, that I was scared I was never going to get better. This is the second time this year that he has had to witness one of these attacks and I feel so badly for him. I do sincerely feel sorry for him that he got wrapped up with someone with the emotional problems I face. I know it cannot be easy.

Of course, I am focusing my attention on him, because I have no idea how to even begin to sort out what was going on with me. If it’s not simply being crazy, I’m not sure what it is. It’s humiliating, demoralizing, and downright scary when you simply lose control of everything – when you want to throw all your dishes through the front window and when you start crying and screaming like a child until you lose your breath.

I had a message on my answering machine yesterday from my dad asking that I call him. He doesn’t really want anything except for me to act as if there’s nothing wrong. I haven’t called him yet. I can’t let go of the thought that the call is going unreturned, but I can’t even begin to make myself call either. I feel numb, paralyzed – not mad, but unable to lie anymore. Some days I feel as if life is falling apart. For a few hours today, that’s what I thought again. I’m feeling better now. I hope it lasts for awhile.

Thanks for listening.

A gleam of light

Someone on my Overeaters Anonymous list posted this. It was good to be reminded that in recovery things simply grow.

Subject: The Path of Recovery

Recovery does not happen overnight. It is somethingthat happens over time by being abstinent and workingthe steps. In AA rooms you hear the aphorism - 1 stepa year. Not that you should only work one step veryyear but that the complete internalization of eachstep takes a year. And I have experienced this. Of course there wasphysical recovery and a return to sanity before 12years (thank goddess) but the true deep recoveryreally did take about that long. I was so deep indenial about the food it is no wonder it took a yearfor me to REALLY admit I was powerless over it andthat I REALLY was a compulsive overeater. This was nota diet it was a way of life.The physical recovery in terms of weight loss took 8months but the recovery from anxiety and panic tooklonger. But it did come. This took faith, diligence,desperation, stubborness, support of the group,support of a sponsor and working the steps twice. Ican honestly say that doing a 5th step saved my lifefrom a psychological and spiritual perspective. I wasno longer alone with my dirty little secrets. What arelief! Then I thought I was moving right along with mentalrecovery. But I would have many backslides in thisarea due to clinical depression and a failedrelationship. But that did happen. And it was steps6-9 that helped support this process. As I could seewhat I had done to create the problems and issues inmy life I could stop blaming other, stop being avictim and start really living as an adult. I canhonestly say this took many many years. But it didhappen.The spiritual recovery came about as I cleared up myphysical illness, cleared up my mental and emotionaland realtionship problems. And all along I prayed andasked God for help and this strengthened my faith.Workind steps 10 - 12 deepened my spirituality. Icould see I was not alone and I could see my own innerdivinity.I am a pilgrim on a lifelong journey. Each year I workthe steps in a deeper way. Each year I have a deeperappreciation for the steps, the slogans, and thefellowship. AA and all that it gave birth to is amodern day miracle. And I am a miracle too. I shouldbe in a grave dead from my eating or from my suicidaldepression. But today I am happy, I am self expressed,I am living out God's plan for me.

Meanwhile back on the farm

One thing I have gotten really good at after moving back to my home state is doing my daily meditation and prayer in the morning. I go outside on the porch with two books -- one is a 12-step Prayer Book, given to me by one of the members of my PA f2f group, the other is "The Language of Letting Go" by Melody Beatie. I spend some quiet time with my HP and then read a prayer and think through it, then read a meditation and think through it. This time in the morning is very centering for me.

Anyway, this morning's meditation from the Language of Letting Go was about being a victim. And while I can't remember exactly what the meditation said ... what it brought up for me was that for a long time after entering recovery I added my addiction to a long list of things I had been victimized by. I was powerless over my addiction, so I must be its victim. What I realized this morning is ... I'm not a victim of my addict. My addict has served me well in times when I didn't have the capacity to deal with emotions and feelings that were overwhelming. It helped me to escape when I was so unhealthy that I didn't know I was escaping. But today it is my addiction that is forcing much needed change in my life, making me stronger, making me more aware of my life and how to deal with it. The only time I become a victim to my addict is when I use it for unhealthy purposes, when I continue to use it to escape my real life, even though I am gaining the skills needed to face whatever life has to hand me. When I say that I am limited in my ability to interact with others because I am an addict, I am MAKING myself a victim of my addict. Instead I need to say, "Because I have lived in active addiction, isolation and unhealthy relationships are the only way I know how to live. In recovery, I have the opportunity to learn new ways to interact with others. I have the chance to learn what it feels like to be healthy." If I choose to continue to isolate myself and blame it on the addiction, then I am submitting to being victimized by my addict.

It took me a long time just to quit living like an active addict day to day. Through the grace of my HP and the support of this program, I stopped that behavior. But stopping the behavior is really only the first step. Changing the way I live is what recovery is about for me. Changing the way I live, erases my role as a victim. I have no intention of living any of my life as a victim.