The comedown of life, and it’s ever changing nature , is truly getting to me today. I’m struggling to write this, as I sip on gin in my favourite bar. I know deep down how destructive my previous life was. Sex drugs and rock n roll catches up with you eventually , and then you’re left with this shell empty inside, reminiscing of the past and how i thought I had it all. I miss the fantasy as much as I crave my addictions. I was young and unjaded, thinking I could have it all.

But now I sit, on a stool trying to fade into the background hoping i dont get noticed , consumed with self pity , and an over zealous for rose tinted glass memories. I think to times when i was on your around the country, performing my act and the glories that came with it. I’m not saying in anyway I was a rock star or that I performed for packed out arenas. Most of my gigs were small, no more than A couple of hundred people, and sometimes not even ten. But the buzz that comes with it. Knowing I was commanding the room, all eyes were on me, showered with fleeting love and adoration. Drink and drugs in constant supply, women eager to spend their precious time with me post show. It was a taste of what the big time could have been. But it was so fake and corrupting.

Encounters were unappreciated, and quickly pushed to the recesses of my mind as I wanted more. Single encounters became not enough and unchallenging. As the saying goes, “I was chasing the dragon”. One such night, my show had ended, there were a group of girls that hung back to chat. They had been rowdy, spend the entire show heckling me , trying to throw me off my game. It didn’t work. That night I was on fire. Whatever was in the air that night, I could do no wrong. Post show i sat with the girls, 4 of them, drinking , smoking, filling them with all the lines I had in my back pocket. Four , turned to three, and then to two. It was then i made my move. Suggesting I was going to drive home from the venue, only an hour away from my hometown. The girls protested and insisted I stay in their couch. I was in now state to drive. We went back to theirs , and using every trick I had learned from pickup artists I had read about, I , looking back on it, bullied these girls into threesome. We spent the night rolling around naked, blaming all of our future regret in the alcohol and drugs we had consumed. The next morning I got up and left. Not a word spoken, barely a breathe passed from my lips as I sat into my car and drove off. Words can’t describe the guilt and shame I feel now as I look back on that night, like so many others.

Sex should be fun and enjoyable, the greatest experience two or more people can share in a safe and trusting environment. I’m haunted by so many times pursued it for my own gratification, my own pursuits. My biggest worry in life is that my want , my need , my insatiable desire for these experiences and encounters will prevent me from ever having a loving relationship, ever destined to be alone in this world

As I sat across from one of therapists, and now a trusted friend, in the midst of conversation about life and how things are going. A comment he made , sparked a thought process in my head. When did it all change. When did I become the man i am now. A slightly tortured, overly romantic, deep thinking man. To quote him directly, “Abuse is like throwing a hand grenade into the personality, you can try piecing it back together, but you may never recover all the shrapnel.”

It reminded me of a moment when I was 16, a dear friend of mine at the time told me, he has noticed a huge change in me. I was once a cool , I don’t give a fuck, kind of guy. Nothing bothered me. And now all I wanted was for people to think I was this superhuman ladies man, a Casanova reincarnate. At the time i was a little offended but looking back , did he hit the nail on the head. I had set it out to be my greatest achievement, sleep with thousands of women. To please them all, to make sure they never had a lover as good as I. If I was going to be the best at something , then why not sex. I mean so many of the people , and characters I admired of tv and in movies were just that. Something tragic or traumatic happened to them and they turned their lives around , becoming the masters of their own sexual destinies.

Even typing it out now, and reading over that makes me sound so immature but also so self centred, so arrogant, and a huge asshole. The only reason those guys are like that are because its fiction, fantasy, the way they were written. The only thing I really achieved from this unachievable pursuit was emptiness, loss , and a trail of unnecessarily broken hearts. If only i could meet 16 year old me today. What a slap I would give him, followed by a tight hug and the wise words, “ its ok . You don’t need to do this to prove anything , it wasn’t your fault”

One of the steps to recovery is apologising to those you’ve hurt. I would be lying if I said i wasn’t absolutely petrified of this step. I can’t imagine what the reactions will be like. I’m sure some will be understanding, others may laugh, proclaiming its not a real addiction , but there are definitely quite a few who will not only discard the apology but will probably shot on sight. And who could blame them. Not I . But first and foremost, and i feel a lot of people going through something like this or any other mental health issue may need to do the same, is to apologise to yourself. Apologise for being too hard, too critical on yourself. And then acknowledge its ok, to feel the way you do, after all it’s not your fault. You only did what you thought was right at the time

It’s 2am on a Wednesday morning. And I’ve been struggling for the last few hours. That little fix that will quench my thirst, the slightest touch of human contact. My entire skin feels like it’s on fire. And all i want to do is take something to numb this pain. Usually I would turn to drugs or alcohol, usually both to battle this feeling. Hoping they would take away these horrific urges I have constantly. But I quit those too.

It’s a lonely place , being here where I am. I’m one of the lucky ones, who has so much support around him. My family and friends are incredible. And i couldn’t imagine doing this without them. I honestly dont think I would be able to. My sister is in contact with my closest friends almost 24/7 they all discuss what they can do to help me through, what I’ve been told will be the hardest thing I ever have to do in my entire life. Overwhelming and daunting come to mind.

I’ve spent the evening , watching raunchy comedies and romantic comedies, all the while, frantically searching the web, for a hint of sexual activity. Dating websites, personal ads, constantly swiping left and right , hoping for a match . Checking my inbox obsessively waiting for a notification from the many sites that promise the chance to meet someone for an extra marital affair, a woman , or couple willing to let me join in on their escapades. My frustration boil as I spend yet another unfulfilled by what fantasies porn websites can offer me. Cause thats just it porn is just a fantasy. A quick hit, like a drag of a cigarette or a little pile of cocaine scooped in a finger nail. Sure it helps but it won’t be enough.

I’ve been told nymphomania, isn’t a really addiction, many times before. This isnt my first time seeking help, prior to now, I was told ” you’re just going through a phase” , puberty was to blame, or “boys will be boys, it’s just natural “. There is nothing natural about how I feel right now. The urges in me are so strong, I’ve given serious consideration to taking my life to stop myself feelong this way.

I apologise in advance if I seem to jump from thought. I cant seem to centre myself as I type so bare with me. I’ve recently started to understand the need for this type of gratification, being abused as a child has had a major impact on my psyche, causing me to seek validation in the bedroom. A need , compulsion to be worshipped by the opposite sex as some sort of horizontal dancing deity, the greatest lover of all time, a sex god. The emptiness inside me, sparked off my childhood trauma, amplied by societies need to push sex down our throats as a way of selling us things is unbareable. I feel unloved and not worth anything. Incapable of having, and undeserving of a loving long lasting relationship. What a cycle to be caught in. I act out sexually, cause i feel empty and unfulfilled, and i feel empty and unfulfilled acting out sexually.

I’m currently on the road to recovery, I’m spending my days in a outpatients ward of one of the better know , mental health facilities in the country. It’s taken me over 16 years , 3 interventions, many broken promised, a double life and shattered relationships and friendships , and one suicide attempt, to get me to finally see the light. They tell me it’s the hardest thing i’ll ever do , beating addiction, and they are fucking wrong. This truly is hell, the comedown of it alone is torture, all I want is one fix, just tie me over, I spend my nights , sleepless, unable to think of anything else. It has consumed my thoughts now for the last four weeks. I can’t think of anything else. Even as i’m in group therapy, or art therapy or one of the other treatments, they have for us , in what i have dubbed “adult summer camp”, I find it hard to push the thoughts of my addiction, to one side so I can focus on treatment.

 

I’ve come to understand about addiction, as I listen to others in my group and the counsellors themselves, many of which are former addicts is that it’s about emptiness, and hole inside that needs to be filled. The trick is to figure out what it is that’s missing in my life, that thing that makes me act out, in destructive behaviour. Doing anything to numb the pain, and that’s what is, a constant pain. An agony that you can’t really understand. The biggest step Ive made in the last few days though is that i finally do understand it, it’s a feeling of not being loved, by others and by myself, a need, a compulsion to be adored by everyone around me and be the best. But the best at what? I’ve always picked things up quickly but given them up just a quickly when I convince myself i’ll never be the best at it. But why does that matter, it really shouldn’t. I mean at the end of the day who gives a fuck, does it really change who people really see me. Do they think less of me, cause i’m not the best and kicking a ball into a goal, or drawing a portrait , or craving a statue out of marble. No! It doesn’t. And even if it did, is it any of my business what people really think of me. Again, no! It really fucking isn’t. All my previous thought pattern has lead me to do, is resent the universe for not making me smarter, better looking, stronger, faster, funnier . and because of that I turned to the only way I knew how to get validation, and to fill the void in my soul.  So my lesson is for today, is to say fuck it, I’m good enough, I don’t need to be the best, I just need to be the best at being me

It’s been awhile since I wrote here, I’ve been taking to time to address a few things in my life, plus I can be slightly lazy when it comes to writing things down and posting them, social media is not my forte. Probably not the best trait for someone with a blog, but it is what it is. Anyway I’m back and a little more focused and that’s all the matters. Since my first post, a lot has happened, I’ve had to spend time in hospital with my mental health, and in recovery for my wonderfully addictive habits but more on that later. I was walking down to the park nearest me, on what is an amazing summers day and i thought to myself i should start writing again. So here I am.

 

I love this time of year, summer suits me, I love wearing less clothes, basking in the heat. The smell of suncream, and all the people around just seem to be happier. It’s truly incredible. The music blaring is always cheerful and you can’t help but be in a good mood. And no one judges you for a midday cocktail or glass of wine. Its that holiday mentality all the time. This summer is unique for me, it’s the first summer I can remember being single, or at least without a romantic entanglement, I find it almost uncomfortable. To me summertime is a time where love is in the air, going for walks at the seafront, dinners outside, evening drinks in the sun, weekends spent just being with each other, it’s kinda magical.

 

This is the longest I’ve been single in 10 years, you’ll laugh when you hear it’s only been two months. “ What a sad dickhead” or “ Come on, it’s only been two months , grow up and get over yourself”  you may be saying to yourself, but to me it’s a big deal, I’ve never been on my own and it can be quite daunting. For reasons I’m sure I’ll write about at some stage, my previous relationship ended and I miss my ex partner , and the life we had so much. But what scares me more is, I’m slowly forgetting things about her, like the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, the looks she use to give when I pissed her off, the smile she gave me when she didn’t think I was looking, the sound of her laugh, and even the nagging. These things us to be so prominent in my mind, and they are slipping away. But I also miss the ones before her, they all had such unique traits and such different personalities. I suffer from an inability to let go of people from my mind, no matter how ill treated I was by them , or vice versa( i’m no angel) especially the women I’ve come to know. To quote al moody, from californacation “ there isn’t a woman I’ve met that I haven’t fallen in love with for ten minutes or ten years”  My question to all the readers( if any) do you find yourself doing the same, thinking of all the people you once spent so much time getting to know, that arent in your life any more? And if so, how does it make you feel? Does it bring a smile or a tear, and if so how do you cope? Cause personally I haven’t got a fucking clue how to stop. And to all the women who once shared a life with me , no matter how long for, I hope you’re happy and have someone who can look after you like I couldn’t