Come home. Please come home.
It’s almost like you’re here right now. It’s strange. It’s peaceful. It’s happy. It’s good.
I don’t usually post here explicitly about my porn/online RP and masturbation addiction, but this one, I thought, merited sharing.
I’m having real trouble with this one sexual image that keeps coming back since yesterday that’s arousing me a lot. It’s with my wife, and I don’t think it’s necessarily bad or sinful in itself (though it’s unusual, and I’m not sure I would actually like it in real life, but I digress) and I’m just having an unusually difficult time pushing it out if my mind.
What’s good, and encouraging, is that I’m not experiencing an urge in the way we talk about them, and the way I experienced them before I rebooted. For one, I’ve got zero desire to go to porn to deal with it. Even better, though, is that it’s not a need, and drive. It’s “if I could just O, this pressure would all be gone. That would be easier. This is frustrating.” That’s the big thing. It’s harder, and I’m frustrated, but I don’t need to fight it. It’s not “I can’t to stop myself.” The desire is *really* strong, but it’s just a desire and nothing more.
So ultimately, this is a great experience now that I talk it out.
Every day without you is painful. They have joys and sorrows like other days. I feel happy and sad and frustrated and every other ordinary emotion in its proper time, but throughout it I am in pain. I do not despair; I keep hope. Hope is hidden at times, but it is never gone. Under it, behind it, before it, and through it I am in pain. I suffer. Not a moment goes by without this suffering.
I do not want sympathy. My sorrow and pain have transformed and are transforming me. My suffering has been and will be of great value to me. I am thankful for it. I still will welcome its end, and embarking on new trials. If this trial will abide the rest of my life, much good will come if it, and that is the reality I will live, though I pray that is not my lot.
I am frightened.
Do you want me to say I need you?
I. Need. You.
I’m sorry for making fun of you, and things you liked. I never really understood how it hurt you. You told me it did, and I didn’t take you seriously. I’m sorry about that too.
I think the easiest thing is to just accept that I don’t matter.