The next few posts are going to be very hard for me to talk about. I never thought my life could diverge onto one of the hardest roads I have ever walked. The previous post mentions the pain I experienced during my parents' divorce. Starting at age 11-12, my world was rocked, we know that already. The absence of my dad, the lack of affection coming from my mom were strong triggers to what started a very painful sexual addiction. If you don't wish to read some of these words, I completely understand. Not everybody understands an addiction like this. There are still some people even in the psychiatric community, who don't believe sexual addiction is indeed an addiction. I could go into the scientific facts as to how sex and acts involving sexual things affect the brain, but I'll spare you. I can't exactly pinpoint when it was that my experimenting happened, but I started masturbating late at night, even acting out with my stuffed animals, pretending they were people. I never looked at pornography until I was in college.
I would masturbate on a regular basis in high school and listen to music with sexual innuendos. But, my real pain started in 2009. I was 21, in the middle of college, I never had a boyfriend in high school, I was never popular, I hardly went on any dates. Fitting in has never been my forte. I was involved in choir and theater, always eating with the "drama geeks". In 2006, I graduated from high school, but the year before, I became acquainted with a guy my sister went to high school with and who, ironically, was the brother-in-law of my best friend's sister. John was charming; talented; handsome; affectionate. He performed with my A Cappella choir a couple of times, I went to family activities when he was there. I befriended him on Facebook. I talked to him on FB chat a time or two. Everything was going great. I even went to see him at Tuacahn, an amphitheatre in St George in a couple of shows. Everything changed in 2009 when my best friend told me he came out of the closet to his family. Even some of my family members who knew him questioned his sexuality. I've never had the best "gaydar". What really hurt me was, after emailing him over and over and over, he complained to his family, calling me a "stalker". I ripped up his CD he gave me, pictures I had of him and buried myself in the closet in tears. I would act out scenes in my head with him and I, often being romantic.
I started skipping school, coming home and barricading myself in my room. Being somewhat curious as to what would make a gay lifestyle so appealing, I went on YouTube and found myself looking at gay porn. Being an affectionate person already, I found the feeling of kissing, even if they were both the same gender, attractive. But, being frightened at the same time, I phoned my sister who tried to talk me out of looking at any more on the computer-it didn't work. I would look at the same images/videos. My mom, having owned my computer and had the ability to see the websites I looked at, soon learned of my struggle and arranged for me to go to therapy. I went to at least 3 therapists before going to one I stuck with for a number of years. I attended a Womens group, where women were in similar situations like mine. I learned about a website called Craigslist. You may think that website only contains job postings, people selling furniture, etc. But, there were also want ads for sex or sexual activities. Being so deep in the addiction, I decided to check it out. I soon found myself meeting guys from anywhere to a cemetery in my car, in a tent up in the mountains, in various guys' apts, my apt, parking lots, anywhere we could get privacy. I let guys explore my body, make me feel aroused for a number of hours; from the outside looking in, people would say I came so close to being killed. Raped. The scariest part? It didn't compare to the pain I'd experienced at the hands of my family. I almost didn't care.
This meeting with guys went on for at least 7 years, off and on. I attended church, but saw Bishop after Bishop after Bishop, wanting at times to repent. Nothing worked. Here I am, still looking at pornography, having a better idea of how empty it makes me feel. I'm still attending therapy, also using yoga as a way of coping. Addiction cannot be overcome. Only managed. I still feel alone, but have more of an understanding of how addiction affects me. This is not the road I want to take. Two roads diverged. Which do I choose? I still don't know. But, I definitely want to take myself out of the darkness.
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