I used to compulsively look at porn. I have not done that for nearly two years.
I have looked at porn but I have not looked at porn compulsively.
I compulsively write this blog. I used to really enjoy it. The blog used to be lively and light-hearted. Of late it has become a tool for me to compulsively work out my problems, my resentments and my fears.
I get up in the morning and compulsively check the numbers of people who read these pages. My breath is shallow and I become pensive, my fingers ache and my mind races. The modern opera that plays almost constantly in my head is, as I check the blog, full volume.
That’s not all I do. I compulsively look at Huffington Post and the BBC then check the MLS and other regular sites. I use the internet as a distraction from living life. Instead of wasting my time I could be writing other stuff or doing more constructive things.
At therapy this morning I talked about being authentic as a way of dealing with my compulsivity but its going to take more than that. What is it to be authentic? For me it’s neither about being bigger or smaller than I am. I need to be the right size.
I ruthlessly seek authenticity in others as well as strive for it in myself. As a result of these unrealistic expectations I am disappointed by those I love then tend to isolate. Risking being seen is just too overwhelming. This accounts for why I felt so let down by him. When you reveal yourself absolutely to another and they have little or no respect or appreciation..well..out comes the great protector who forces me to sweat in the armour of distrust.
It’s bloody difficult when one has acted a convincing role all of ones adult life to be authentic. The role that was assigned to me by my family of origin.
For the time being I have to do the right thing. Be that right guy, avoid difficult or challenging people, strive for a peaceful head.
Peace of mind.
Of course the last few months acting out my love and sex addiction with him may one day be looked back upon as some of the most destructive time that I have ever spent with another being. It may not. I am tied in knots about it.
My part in everything, every situation I am in, it all has to be owned. Owned by me.
If I refuse to take action and stop this destructive behavior then the peace of mind that I crave, that when I first got sober used to be mine…will never, ever be achieved.
Picked four small peaches from the tree. Had date last night. Spent time packing art.