Im back online after my weeks in treatment, and its amazing to see the change in myself, life no longer seems like an endless string of hardships. Its been a difficult transition making the move home after the safety of where i was stay. And right now i feel very much like Philippe petite, walking the wire between the twin towers , one tower , the life i had and the pain that consumed me, the other tower, my desires and how i want my life to be. Coming home feels as if they cut the balance bar, in half, making each step more difficult and challenging, i must take my time and learn to be patient. The destination will come eventually, but my taking the steps cautiously and carefully , I can enjoy the journey and relish in the small victories, moments are meant to be enjoyed and i must learn to slow down and take them in, instead of wanting the instant hit, that gratification that came so easily before. Now is my time to work on my balance and better myself and my skills, and not give in to the urge to run across the wire , so risk of falling. A step back doesnt mean I’m heading to where it came from it just means i need a moment to readjust my balance and continue on. Every faithful I will reach the end , eventually
Tonight is my last night, my last night before i check in to the place i hope will give me a new life, free from the pain and hurt that has plagued my existence for more than half my life. Instead of embracing what is something hugely positive and life changing, I decided to rebel one last time. Its that need to connect with a woman, that need to be worshipped as a god, validation I obtain from knowing i did a good job, I satisfied my partner in our horizontal waltz. Tonight was all about me and my “needs” , my desires, my wants. What should have been an embracement of health and well being , was an exercise is hedonism and self gratification.
My main issue is with sex, the constant need for it, using it to validate myself as a man, the escapism, and exploration of fetishes. What should be a healthy act between two consenting adults has a much darker , sinister and more damaging part in my life. What accompanies this is alcohol and substance abuse, my love of drink and drugs has brought me down a very serious rabbit hole and it is time those problems are addressed. But not tonight , tonight i partook is all if the vices i could get my hands on. Booze, cider and hard liquor, weed and cocaine. All the bittersweet coping mechanisms i have relied on before.
My night started out at a bbq with my closest friends and their partners , something I struggle with due to my recent break up and addiction to the flesh. I consumed way too much alcohol as we relived our youth, playing beer pong and other drink games, followed by joints and games of cards as we talked about my upcoming journey of self rediscovery. Then i met a woman who was friends with one of the partners there for the night, and my night took a turn for the worse. At about 1am when everyone seemed to be quietening down and make moves to go home, i did what is commonly known as an “irish goodbye” leaving my friends without a word as the two of us left for her apartment. What transpired next was two grams of cocaine , rum, cigarettes , nudity and the inability to achieve an erection, something that has never happened to me before. I dont know of it was the cocaine, the rum , or the psychological damage done by watching hours of hard-core pornography that caused it, im going to say it was the coke. Tonight I felt entitled to act the way I did, as if the ask and want for help gave me a hall pass to run a muck and go hard. But all it has done is left me high, anxious and very embarrassed at my soft cock.
Where does this entitlement come from and how dare I have it. I’ve had it every since i was abused, telling myself going through pain like that allows me, entitles me to this life I have created, one of hedonism, over indulgence, self destruction. How can i get past that, and let go of this feeling of “i deserve……i have suffered enough already”. Set me free of those past thoughts and learnt patterns as i embark on this new chapter in my life , one where i understand that no one is entitled to anything and life requires hard work and persistence
On this, the penultimate night before I step on a plane, bringing me to a rehabilitation centre thousands of kilometres away from my own bed, i have a lot of thoughts rattling around in my head. The first is the upsetting feeling of i can’t believe my life has gotten to this point. I have truly hit rock bottom. And although “ the only way is up” phrase has been thrown at me by everyone in around me, typically followed by “ I’m so proud of you” and “you’re so strong and brave” it doesn’t alleviate my fears or apprehensions, its nice to know there is support around me.
The second thing running through me is fear, fear of the unknown. Fear of change, no matter how positive it will be, im still so scared of what is to come. Stripping layers back and breaking down all that has been there until now is going to be hard, the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There is the fear of facing my demons, and having to process years of sex abuse, and the effects it’s had on my mind. The subsequent journey through religious confusion and involvement in a cult, followed by substance and alcohol abuse and why i use it as a coping mechanism. And then finally my fear of being alone and abandonment .
The third thing haunting my consciousness, is being alone. Alone in a foreign country, unable to rely on others. My reliance on relationships, and sex. That is the biggest problem in my life, my destructive relationship with love and sex, i am surrounded by love in my life, my friends and family have done nothing but showered me with love and adoration, they tell me how proud they are of me everyday and how much i mean to them. They go out of their way to make my life easier and show me how important i am to them.
The kicker is without any romantic love, in my life, without the physical expression of that, or without physical contact from a woman, i feel none of the above platonic love. It leaves me feeling empty and unfulfilled. Void of anything but sadness and pain. I’m still trying to understand why I can’t accept this love that I am bombarded with daily. Something that i am grateful for everyday, although i don’t understand why they feel that way. My mind runs rampant with negativity, disproving thoughts and unjustified beliefs that I’m not worthy of any of this. And until i can learn to love myself i won’t be able to receive love from others
I hate how stubborn i can’t be, it stops me from reaching out in times of need, or when i miss people, from saying sorry and from even forgiving, others and myself. I want to pick up the phone and make that call, or go visit that friend i miss, make amends for the wrongs I’ve done. Instead I sit and struggle to swallow my pride and give in to those feelings, I just fester and suffer. I can’t explain why I would rather live with the broken piece of my heart than try and mend it. I think its fear, fear of the worst possible outcome. The rejection, the finality of what “no” would bring, and how much worse that would make me feel. My mind convinces me of what others are thinking, and how much better they are doing now that I’m not in their lives. No matter how much evidence I have to point to the contrary, or what others around me tell me. Once i have an idea in my head, a thought, a want, a desire , an image of how things are, or how i want them to be, nothing can sway me. All it does in the long run is bring me pain and hurt, as i sit tears running down my face , knowing i can never have what i want.
I had a lot of time to think about it lately, my life has become one of massive inward thinking and personal analysis, and I’ve come to realise, I have no faith, not just in religion or spirituality but in the world around me. I’m so overly sceptical that i find it impossible to picture a different life than the one i have now, something better than just endless hurt and suffering. My only wish would be to know the destination to my current journey, where will i be in a year, two years, five years , ten years? I haven’t got a clue, I’m stumped. I just want to be shown a path. To know the joy and happiness, and love are waiting for me at the end of the road. The irony is if i could just trust that those things will come, they will. And more ironic is even if i was to be shown what i ask for , night after night, by a divine power, I wouldn’t believe it was the divine truth no matter how much proof the deity provided.
Don’t be like me, find that faith , let go of the pride, and make that call, send that message, hold on to hope.
I’ve been writing a lot of paragraphs and not posting them lately. I have a tendency to get caught up in head, swallowed by my insecurities. At times I just write overly poetic nonsense, trying to make myself feel smarter than i am, and boost my ego a little, to no avail. Other times I’m pouring my heart out on the digital pages , longing for some miracle to unveil itself before my eyes. The majority of time it’s all typed through tears.
Happiness and peace is obtained from within, but my strives usually bring me down the wrong path. A quiet midweek break out of my city , across the other side of the country, still found me, neck deep in my old habits. A wonderful mix of alcohol, cocaine, and painkillers , and secretly watching pornography as I mourned the loss of my relationship, and the resulting loss of a ready made family. Worst of all it was all my doing. I chose to walk away , and abandon them like so many before, as the truth of dark twisted inner thoughts rear their ugly head. I miss her so much it hurts, a pain that furthers my self medicating attempts at numbing. Why am I like this, and how can i stop? It’s impossible to undo the past no matter how much I scream at the gods in the dead of the night. I just urine for the strength to put an end to my self destruction. To break the cycle and become more than i am now.
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