It’s been awhile since D has written on this blog, but since the redbook article was posted, he’s expressed interest in putting out a few thoughts from the sex addict’s side of the street. Thought you’d all be interested…as always, take what is useful and leave the rest…
Wishing every one of you strength for the day,
D’s World (in his own words…):
I’m sick of sex.
I’m sick of all the hype. I’m sick of all the discourse and discussion. The onslaught of imagery and iconography. The textures and tasteless programming that is constantly applied to my senses. I’m sick of people constantly worrying about how its going to happen…with whom…and why. The continual urge of my body to fulfill some sort of recycled brain chemistry.
And yet here we are with a website dedicated to it. I am part of my own grief. I suppose I should preface with saying I don’t write that often, but when I do its usually because things have reached a critical mass. There are a lot of us out there that want answers.
I am an addict. There is no other way to describe the last 15 years of my sexual journey. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who believe that “sex addicts” are just pricks who just want to have sex with as many people as possible because they “can”. I will admit, there are people like that out there. I am not one of them. I am tortured by it.
Sex addiction is like heroin. There have been plenty of studies to prove that during orgasm, a human brain is 95% identical to a junky hitting their first wave of a smack fueled release. Look it up if you don’t believe me. Those of us who are sex addicts know there is nothing even remotely wonderful about spending your grocery money on a prostitute. That ball of shame and anguish you feel when you are sitting in your car again afterwards…crying into your steering wheel, wondering how things have gotten this bad and why you are such a fucked up degenerate. You have trashed the values your hold dear, hurt the ones you love…and worst of all…you hate yourself.
Sound like a good time? Its not.
The argument that i did this because it was “fun” holds no water for me. This is not the life I wanted, and I have spent my life savings, lost my friends, and spent countless hours being vulnerable about my shameful secrets to absolute strangers in support groups.
We are a society that is fueled by the possibility of sex or the fear of it and its problems. It doesn’t matter if it’s the porn producer or the preacher’s pulpit. We are obsessed and we have overdramatized this human condition.
Sex is not that important.
I used to think that if I went days without masturbating my dick would fall off. I used to think that if I didn’t have sex for a couple of weeks I would probably die. Truth be told, the most content I ever was when I was sex free for a period of 6 months. I found out that I existed beyond my genitals. I had a name and a personality and it had very little to do with who I slept with.
Sex is nothing more than a genetic desire to procreate, to feel good, and to connect and bond with possible mating partners. Think that sounds harsh? Lets take another look at this. If you were left alone in the wild with nothing but a pair of matches and a hatchet, what would your first thoughts be? Would it be that you better find someone to hook up with? The body would systematically shut down a lot of these urges because they would no longer be deemed “necessary” to survival. You would be focused on shelter, food, warmth, safety, and the possibility of finding rescue.
It’s not that important.
If we continue to refuse biology in the examination of this “problem”, we are severely blindsided. I wont deny that love is a core human need. The need to be touched, listened to, held, appreciated, to care for and be cared for, but sex is actually a small portion of that.
When we were a new species on this earth, procreation was absolutely the best way of sustaining survivability. We rolled the genetic dice and came up with new powerful ways of achieving an evolved progression against the forces that sought to destroy us.
But the earth is overpopulated now. We have gone from needing an evolutionary/survival need to an emotional one. And boy did we ever go crazy with this. We invented a million different reasons why sex was the end all be all. The piece de resistance of loves true center. What a bunch of garbage. If this sounds like sacrilege, then maybe you need to consider why you are on this website in the first place. Do you or someone you know struggle with sexual dysfunction? Is it possible that we have it all wrong?
My brain was fried at an early age. Neurologist alike will agree “neurons that fire together wire together”. Mix in a little early onset PTSD and you have a brain cocktail that is good to go for the rest of your adult life. Some of us have severe brain damage, and our only way of shutting the system down and resetting it is through orgasm. If you are a hardcore addict, you don’t even care how good the experience is…your just grateful its over..so you can start your day. Through hard work, and careful maintenance you can overcome a lot of these situations, but it still begs the question, “why is this a thing?”
I implore all of us to dig deep and ask ourselves. Have we as a culture completely overhauled our human sexual needs? Are we living in a rat maze of fear and anxiety, a den of constant stress and confusion? Sex activates a pleasure center so strong in our brain its no wonder why we want to continually experience it, but at what cost?
My only solution is desensitization. And no I don’t mean staring at naked people all day long. I refuse to participate in popular culture for this reason ALONE. I don’t watch TV. I don’t read magazines. I don’t constantly fret about looking cool or trying on a new pair of jeans to see if my butt looks better in this pair or that pair. It’s a futile waste of my time. I have a wife, we have great sex when we feel like it, and I go back to things that really matter afterwards.