The below post is from a male sex addict who found this blog and bravely has been willing to share a piece of his own journey. Generally i think men who struggle with sex addiction take a beating in the media and in mainstream culture, especially from people who label them as perverted, evil, “typical men,” or whatever. For us (DB), our recovery has been fueled by understanding shame and the effects of shame. For D, shame is what began his cycle into madness, and only after acknowledging the shame, the source of the shame, the needs underlying the shame, and owning his choices did he begin to find serenity and sanity.
The piece below paints a picture of a tormented inner world. I admit I was definitely triggered by reading it, so if you are brand new to this process please proceed with caution!!!!!!
I can easily see this being written by an alcoholic, with the description of “the woman” being replaced with a description of the ice cubes clinking in the glass, the sound of the jack daniels being poured out, and the feel of the first sip. It takes a lot of courage to be honest, and I encourage everyone here to read his story, check out his blog, and even if you disagree with some of the ideas expressed, consider the point of view of this SA. This is not a story of excuses, but a story intended to communicate some of the feelings associated with being a sex addict. You can check out his blog here:
She is never tired and never has a headache. She waits for me tirelessly. Stunning is her beauty. When I look at her, nothing else matters. My care slips away as my eyes become fixed to her inviting form. Just when I begin to tire of what I see, she transforms. She becomes older or younger, pale or tanned, clothed or unclothed. She becomes whatever. Sweet or sinister. She just wants me to feel like a man. To feel the carnal, animal impulse that is only natural because after all, thats what men are. Animals right? It’s not my fault nature made me this way is it? I shake my head as it becomes heavy looking over at the clock. 4am? Where did the time go? Hands tired from all the clicking of the mouse, stomach growling with hunger, kids sleeping, wife dreaming, me…….sinking. This is hell.
She was supposed to make me feel better. She promised she would. But now I feel more drained, more empty, more alone. How did she wound me? I was watching her the whole time. Soft, subtle, sly woman! How carefully have you guided me. Directed your movements to ensnare my eyes and capture my heart. You have made me a prisoner in my mind with your image. When I am weak you persistently wedge yourself into my thoughts. You bring me back home where your arsenal awaits to inflict more harm upon me. You never relent. So what escape do I have? How do I find a path where you do not exist in this world? To your enjoyment and to my utter torment, no such path exists, not here in this world. It belongs to you and your father. You seek to lure men like me into your snare with your beauty. You promise us the best experience with just one more image, but the ultimate you promise…I’ve never found and you fail to provide. You’ve convinced me that she is still out there. That if I search harder, look longer, then, maybe then I’ll find what I’m looking for. Again, what hope is there for me to find a path where you don’t exist?
The path isn’t found in this world. The narrow path is hard to find and difficult to stay on. But this path…Oh how different it is! I have found this path and though I find myself far from it at times, the promises made by it are true and sweet and fulfilling! The path, the narrow path is small indeed. But where it is the most narrow, there is the most joy! Where there is the least worldly pleasure, there is the greatest heavenly pleasure. Oh this path…it leads to my home where my father waits. He sees me coming from a long, long, long way off and I see him. By him I know my way home. When I look away I fall off the path. But my father is long-suffering. As my drunkenness from her temptation fades, my vision becomes clear and I once again find the pathway home. The glorious feelings I experience here! The trees that line this path are unwaveringly strong. Their leaves so bright and the light on the path too radiant for my human eyes! There is no loneliness here. Inches away however, if I look to the right or to my left…dread is right there. Just beyond the bounds of this narrow road, she waits. Ready to shower me with shattered dreams, broken promises, a broken heart and an empty, lost soul.