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Addiction is Addiction is Addiction
My son is on maintenance (Thank God for this program!) for opioid addiction. In October the clinic lost 3 patients to the street. Fentanyl.
Last week (Thanksgiving week) the mother to one of the girls that was lost was handing this out to any that was brave enough to make eye contact with her as she stood in the lobby, alone, visibly broken.
Granted this forum is specifically for sex addiction but IMHO it fits to post it. Be warned it may touch a nerve.
Take a minute.
Days Turn Into Weeks Which Turn Into Months.
[QUOTE=DjHunter;4014241]I've been a "monger" for a bit over 10 years. There were periods during those years where I was insanely active. Paying for extras at strip clubs, dating escorts on Craigslist and Backpage, making rounds on the street, just going wherever I could get my nut off. At a certain point in that time I decided to propose to the girl I'd been dating on and off for a few years. I thought that'd be the changing moment. I actually fucked who I'd christened as my "last girl" the morning of the day I proposed. What a fucking joke, thinking I could force myself to change just because I was getting engaged. I've been married for six years now, and it's only been in these last two that I began doing the serious digging required to move the quitting needle in any significant way. Prior to that, I'd had a couple STD scares, once mistakenly texted my wife while I was trying to text my escort date (was REALLY shaken by that one), and had other stupid situations that made me temporarily consider quitting but were me simply me succumbing to the guilt. I wasn't genuinely trying to change shit. Hell, as long as I didn't get caught, I was good.
The thought of quitting was always playing silently in the background though. Four years ago, I started dating the girl who gave me my first BBFS experience. I dated her several more times, most times with no cover, and it became the thing I sought out in dates. I got so adept, I could tell from assessing a girl's pics whether or not she'd be likely to let me hit raw, and I was fairly accurate. During that time I had the STD scares (that fortunately turned out to be nothing) and hit a brief phase of deep depression, unbeknownst to my wife. A couple times I just sat in my car and cried before coming home from work. It made me start taking the hard look at myself, though. Who I was, what I thought of myself, and why I was like this. When I started out in this hobby, I'd operated on the idea that man is biologically hardwired to "spread his seed" and that the hobby was was simply a byproduct of man's biological nature. But that was bullshit. While the biology may be a factor to a minimal extent, I've come to believe that sex addiction is deeply rooted in, and borne from, my personal experiences. Honestly, smoking weed really encouraged and enhanced my introspection and even heightened the imaginings of some of the worst things that could happen from this hobby. And I spent several nights over the course of about a year having these scary, dark, and entirely plausible fantasies. Over the course of time, my thoughts gradually shifted to introspection. I realized several things through self assessment: I had low self esteem, I wasn't nurtured much by my mother and sought validation through girls and women to fill the void (since an adolescent), and I'd become so adept at spotting the right escorts because I'd been seeking out escorts who had the lowest self esteem and didn't give as much of a shit about themselves.
Over the last two years, I'd also started focusing seriously on my health. I changed my diet, started running, and going to the gym. It became a natural distraction. I saw my body changing and I felt the best that I'd ever fucking felt. I was motivated and naturally filling the void through simply realizing my potential and worth. The few times that I did partake during this time felt worse than ever. I felt like I was sabotaging myself and my progress. More importantly, I felt like I had no more excuses because I'd been shown all the answers, the reasons why I am this way, and the things that could most certainly happen if I stay active in this hobby. It's gotten to a point that, although I still browse escort sites, I don't have much taste for anything. I don't drive aimlessly along the "stroll". I can finally drive past the strolls most times without feeling an overwhelming need to turn down those streets. It's been almost eight months since I last dated. It might sound cliche but I feel so much better. Through my health journey, I realized how much I've begun to care about myself and how conflicting and threatening the hobby is to that notion. The stress and guilt of the hobby is unhealthy, as is the time and money wasted. Iv'e assessed myself, my marriage, and what I want from life that I know I can get, and the hobby doesn't fit into any of that. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments. The challenges still linger and I still have urges. I'll likely always be an addict in that there's always a pit I could potentially fall into. Every day abstained just makes it far less probable. But I'm accomplishing more at this point than I have in years and regained a silly youthful optimism that had been buried under the guilt and shame I'd carried for the past decade.
Brothers, the road is fucking hard. This is an extremely hard thing to beat, and what spurred my change may not be what spurs yours. But I believe that we can all see the other side of this. It took a lot of soul searching to get here and there's more soul searching yet to do. Fundamentally changing yourself takes time, but the journey is way more than worth it. One day at a time.[/QUOTE]I liked reading this post as well as most of the posts here. It indicates to me that you're tuned into a good frequency and you're hearing and listening to the recovery voice you and all of us have inside. Many nuggets of wisdom here.
