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This is something I've almost posted several times. It's something I've almost noted. It's something that I've almost included in previous posts, but I've always been afraid to do so. It was no accident that I left it out in my previous posts, intending people to think that I was an alcoholic or a drug user. I've never really been a big drinker, and I've never really used drugs. But when it comes to sexual matters, I'm a wreck.
Sex addiction is a fairly broad term that can encompass a wide variety of sexually compulsive behaviors. For me, it was habitual and compulsive use of pornography, multiple physical and online relationships, and consequently, dishonesty when it came to sexual matters. Pornography was an every day thing for me. I could (and did) stay up all night, sacrificing sleep, work, and academics to download pictures, movies, and pursue sexual relationships in a realm completely devoid of any sort of spirituality. I would look at picture after picture, convinced that the next one I saw would be the best. It was never good enough. I hurt people who cared about me and wanted to be close to me because I could never really allow anyone to be that close with me, lest they discover my dark secret.
I spent so much time legitimizing the secrecy by convincing myself that no body would love me if they knew - so I should never ever tell anyone. I spent so much time rationalizing the exploitation being depicted on screen by telling myself that this is what they wanted to do. I would tell myself that they are just pictures and I'm not hurting anyone - that it's harmless. Worst of all, I would tell myself that I was not addicted to it. That I could stop if I wanted to.
Deep down, I always knew all that was bullshit. Occasionally, my better parts would win out and I'd be overcome with guilt and shame. Chasing the euphoria of climax only to come down lower than where I had started out. I remember one time particularly vividly. I was talking with a woman who I was particularly infatuated with on the computer. We had probably talked for three or four hours. Sarah, my girlfriend, had gone to bed sometime before. When I finished up, I stumbled into the darkness of the bedroom, dropping my clothes on the floor and sliding quietly into the bed next to Sarah - careful not to wake her. I started crying, trying so hard to be silent. I so desperately wanted to find a way out in that moment, but I didn't know how to do it. I felt like if I uncovered one lie that would mean my whole house of cards would tumble down. I was too damn scared.
So instead, I would just try to manage it on my own. I would delete everything, all the pictures and the movies. I would break off all the relationships besides the one that mattered, and swear that I would never go back to it again. I think the most I made it is three days. Three days of good solid sobriety out of ten years.
So the inevitable pattern of binging and purging reflected the intense pattern of my intimate relationships. I would get close with a woman, and then (not that I realized it at the time) become terrified of having to be open and honest so I'd do something really stupid to break up the relationship. I've hurt so many people, and they would never understand why.
I've had a few important physical relationships with women - all of whom I have hurt. I can't tell you how many online relationships I've had, but I'd guess it would number into the hundreds. I honestly cannot say how many pictures and movies I had on my computer...and I don't think I really want to know anyway. I've hurt my parents, because they have loved me more than anything and have always said I could talk to them about anything but I never trusted them enough to take them up on it. I know if I would have, they would have helped me and loved me - just like they do know that they know. I've hurt my friends, because they have all had to make sacrifices to support me through this. I've hurt Sarah in a way that I can't even begin to articulate - I just thank my lucky stars that she is still willing to work with me. I've hurt myself in an awesomely horrific way. Last, I've also hurt all the people in the pictures. Each and every single one of them. Thousands. Tens of thousands of human beings with hopes and dreams and fears and loves and I treated them like objects. They were someone's mother, someone's sister, someone's daughter, and I treated them like property. I know some make arguments that pornography is a legitimate choice for women, but I remember their faces and I just can't help but wonder, is that the life that they want or are they trying to pay the rent? Are they being empowered or is the degradation as obvious as it seems?
I don't know what the future holds for me. I have no idea where I'm going to be in a years time. I don't know if I'll ever get back into graduate school, or if I'll be able to fulfill my ambitions. I don't know if Sarah's patience with me is going to hold up. There are lots of things that I don't know. Among the things that I do know, which are precious few, is that I am a sex addict.
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