An Animal Attempting to Become a Spiritual Being

Today, I wanted hump pretty much every man who crossed my path. There was my new landlord who answered the door shirtless (not even a pretty sight) when I went to drop off some stuff at my new place; the tall, thuggish looking dude at Rite Aid who I swear grabbed his crotch when he looked at me; the tall meathead guy who pulled up next to me at the grocery store in a freaking Trans Am (do they even still make those?) and got out wearing way too short shorts; the swarthy parking lot attendant, who actually was pretty hot… for a parking lot attendant. I mean, seriously? What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t actually want to fuck any of these highly inappropriate people. Is this what happens when I go nearly 5 months without sex?

I know this has to do with stress. I’m juggling several high-pressure situations right now. And this is how I deal. I’m an animal. All I can think about is indulging my basest instincts and losing myself in the release of sexual oblivion.

My sponsor finally cleared me to move on to Step 4, but have to keep reminding myself to follow Step 3, which is made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of my higher power. I wish I could just make this decision once and be done with it, but I have to keep making it several times a day, or at least reminding myself that I already made it.

I want to be a spiritual being. I want to be lead by a power greater than myself, but apparently it doesn’t come naturally to me. I have to constantly remind myself who is in charge. It’s not me, not my cunt, not my animal instincts, not the bottomless pit of neediness I’ve had inside since childhood. It’s God. My life and my will are now in the care of God. And thank God for that.

The Worst One Here

Most days, there is this voice that shows up in my head. It’s not a very nice voice. It tells me a lot of things, but mostly it tells me I suck. Not just that I suck, but that I suck harder than anyone has ever sucked before.

I went to a meeting today. It was a good meeting, but I had a hard time paying attention because I was distracted by the voice.

“You don’t belong here,” it said. “Most of the women here are obsessing over exes. Ex-boyfriends or husbands that actually loved them. People that they were actually in a relationship with. You’re obsessing over guys you used to have sex with. None of them ever loved you or even liked you. No one has ever wanted to be in a relationship with you and why would they?”

“The men here are obsessing over women far more beautiful and successful than you. No one would ever get obsessed with you or even be attracted to you. The men that you used to be involved with were only interested in you because they were sex addicts themselves and they would have slept with anyone. Everyone in this room has a better job and a much better life than you. You are, by far, the worst one here.”

I’m not positive where this voice came from, but I have some theories. I remember at a very young age my mom, who died in my early teens, would say to me, “You’re so selfish! You just think the world revolves around you, don’t you?” I was probably four or five. I know my mom who worked full-time in a demanding job was overwhelmed by the stresses of working, paying the bills, and motherhood. She also had some serious health issues around that time and was also dealing with depression. If she knew that this statement is what would stick in my head twenty-something years later, louder and clearer than anything else she ever said, I’m sure she never would have said it.

She did say it though. Maybe she said it several times, maybe she only said it once and immediately regretted it. I don’t know, but it still plays in my head like a loop, “You just think the world revolves around you, don’t you?” Don’t you know that your needs don’t matter? You’re a burden and need to stop bothering me.

My mom also said kind, encouraging things to me. She told me I was smart and that I was beautiful, but those memories are foggy. “You’re so selfish! You just think the world revolves around you, don’t you?” is as clear as if she said it an hour ago.

After my mom died (my dad had died a couple of years earlier), I went to live with my Aunt Buffy. She was verbally abusive and made it clear that my presence was a major burden for her. Almost everyday she reminded me that she wished I would just go away. I tried hard to be the perfect kid and win her over, but she could find fault in anything. One time she went into a verbal tirade and ripped me to shreds because I had closed the refrigerator door “wrong.” I had gently bumped it shut with my hip instead of closing it with my hand like a “normal” person. I’m sure the voice was already in place when I moved in with her, but she reinforced it and made it louder and stronger.

I know there is another voice in my head too. It’s faint, but sometimes it comes through over the more dominant, “you suck” voice. “Good job,” it says. “I love you no matter what.” “You are doing so great. I’m proud of you.” The relationship I have with my sponsor is reinforcing this positive, nurturing voice. I know the positive voice in the real thing. It’s my higher power, my higher self, God, whatever you want to call it. The “you suck” voice is just bad memories from childhood that got lodged into my psyche.

I’m now tasked with turning my will and my life over the the care of my Higher Power, who says, “I love you no matter what.” I need to let my Higher Power run the show, but the thing inside me that tells me, “you are the worst ever,” doesn’t want to give up the reins just yet.

My Ideal Man

A couple of months before I got into recovery, my good friend (probably frustrated by hearing about my “relationships”) suggested that I make a list of traits I wanted in a future mate. I made a list that looked a little something like this: musician, rich, dark hair, tall, big cock, good at sex.* She pointed out that these were all shallow things, that didn’t have anything to do with who a person really was.

So I changed “musician” to “creative,” “rich” to “good provider,” “tall” to “masculine,” “big cock” and “good at sex” to “sexually compatible.” There wasn’t really anything I could do with “dark hair.” I also added: intelligent, happy, loving, funny, honest and loyal; because no one wants a stupid, depressed, mean, dull, lying cheater.

I still have this list saved in my phone, and was looking at it earlier tonight. While I suppose having a checklist of character traits is better than having a checklist of list of bullshit things like hair color, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have a checklist at all. I’ve read The Secret. No, I’m not some secret The Secret devotee, but it can’t hurt to put it out there and ask  the universe for what I want.  Do I really know what I want, though? At this stage in the game, the first checklist  still looks way more appealing to me than the second one. But those things probably aren’t what I need.

I’m currently dragging my feet on finishing Step 3, “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God.” So maybe I should just let my higher power deal with the checklist. Besides, I won’t be able to even entertain the idea of dating for at least another three months.

I’m curious about other people’s opinions on having a checklist. Do you/did you have a checklist? If so what’s on it?

*If this describes you, please get in touch… kidding!… kind of

I Wish I Could

“All we knew was that we could not go back into our active sex and love addiction again.”

I read this line today while reading “Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God,” in the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous Basic Text, and it gave me pause. I know that I CAN’T, but sometimes I wish I could. I wish I could in a way that didn’t have consequences, that is.

I wish I could date and fuck whomever I please without getting obsessed with any of them. I wish I could fall in love/lust left and right, and then just move on when it got old without getting hurt or hurting anyone. I wish I could do all this, all while managing to find a partner, start a family, and have a career I am proud of.  I know some people CAN do this. I know because I have fucked some of them. There are many men who do just this, and if their wife never finds out (and the wives/girlfriends I know in this position are usually in too much denial to ever realize what is going on), their sexual and romantic actions are pretty much free of consequences.

But for me, there are consequences. I am an addict. When I get hooked on someone, I become obsessed, clingy, and needy — driving him away. When I am acting out there is no room in my life for healthy pursuits, like career or personal advancement. I end up staying up all night scouring the internet, trying to find every single thing I can about the object of my obsession, and then having to call in sick to work the next day. I end up putting myself in dangerous situations with dangerous people – getting assaulted, being secretly filmed, threatened, intimidated. I end up in situations where the police are called. And as low as those bottoms have been in the past, I know they will get even lower if I return to my active addiction.

It isn’t fair. I wish I could be some dick guy without any sense of guilt or un-wholeness, fucking and “loving” my way through a charmed life. I learned long ago, though, that life is seldom fair. I can indulge in a bit of wishful thinking, now and again, but I need to remember that acceptance of what is is the true key to serenity.