Write

I know there is something serious going on in my subconscious when I stop writing.  All emotion is overwhelming to me.  If I'm not processing, I'm running.  And running usually results in acting out. I process by writing. I can do all the thinking and talking I want, but it's almost like it's not real or meaningful if it's not written down somewhere. 

The crying today started at my morning SA meeting.  There were only 5 of us, the smallest group I've ever seen at that meeting.  Four of the five are LDS. When that reality sets in, I'm always amazed.  Within the church we tend to raise a bunch of co-dependents.  I digress... I don't really want to analyze church culture. The meeting was good and the shares were really insightful and helpful. This sentence leaped off the page at me during our reading:  Indeed, lust was slowly eating away at my capacity to relate on any level with those who really cared for me.   That one sentence explains the last 10 years of my life.

After the meeting, I came home and took a nap. I haven't slept much for the past three nights, so it was good to lay there and just enjoy some needed sleep.  I got up, got dressed and went to therapy.  I started crying nearly the moment I sat down and didn't stop for an entire hour.  My eyes were burning by the time I left.  The weekly reality check that reminds me that I'm not crazy, that my emotions are normal, that I'm making progress, that I'm dealing with things in a healthy way is a necessity in my life.  I can't go a week without it.  Last year when I decided to get help, I knew I was going to need an amazing therapist. I checked out the webpage of this clinic thinking I was going to see one of the women therapist. When I saw the picture of my therapist, I had a spiritual confirmation that he was "the one".  I called and left a message with probably way more details than he needed, but I knew if I didn't say the words "sexual addiction" right then, when I had the courage, I would never say them.  I owe my life to my therapist. He has laughed and cried with me.  Today he even said he was having "anticipatory anxiety" (say that 10 times fast) for me going home this next week for Christmas.  Last year, during this time, we were doing therapy by phone. I would call once, sometimes twice a week and cry into the phone about everything going on in my life.  He was my rock.  I emailed him when my dad passed and he helped me get through. I am go grateful for him in my life.

The last few weeks I've felt differently about my life.  I look at the people in my life who know about my addiction and know my story and how incredibly kind and accepting them are and I am encouraged. A few days ago I even had the thought that maybe, just maybe, I could have a relationship. Maybe I could find someone to date, someone who could be understanding and who could love me and all my baggage. I've started to feel a little more worthy of that recently as well. We all come with baggage.  At least I know about mine and am dealing with it. That's more than most. I'm starting to feel more authentic, more real. I'm starting to feel comfortable with who I am, how I act, and what I say.  Life is not so scary anymore.  I don't really fear being alone anymore.  I may never get married, but I am not, nor will I ever be alone. 

Then I sat and watched two super cheesy Christmas movies tonight.  Christmas movies are one of my favorite parts of December.  I cried through both of them.  It felt good to cry.

I've got to keep writing..... I've got to process.  Going to bed now.