empty *triggers*
I know it is very important not to lie to myself, and I have been trying to burry my real feelings. Honestly, I am sad. Im sorry; I wish I could feel different but I dont.
I love sex. I cant help it. Blame the abuse or whatever you want. I have decided all that doesnt really matter much now. I have beat the whys to death, and it really hasnt helped much. The bottom line is I love sex, and that is who I am.
All those years of acting out, I felt bad for being out of control with sex, but there was another side too. See, I always felt so alive, like every day could be an adventure. My mind would grab hold of one fantasy for a while, and I would look at porn of it, fantasize of it, masturbate to it, and if possible share it with my partner. When I got tired of it, I could move on to the next thing that struck me, but there was always this kind of running adventure going on inside me.
Now that I am RECOVERED and in the name of being a good husband, I have turned my back on all of that. Now, everything sexual is directed at my wife. I dont allow myself to cyber, I dont write, I dont look at porn, and I dont fantasize. See the thing with my fantasies is there was always this element of hope. I always hoped some day I could do all these things. When I decided to move home, I gave up my hope. I realized I was choosing Deborah, and I knew what that meant.
The funny thing is, I thought if I gave myself permission to explore some of the fringes I used to love, the ones that seemed okay for a married guy that it would bring something back. I dont want any of that stuff any more, because it can never be real now. I will never know anything outside of my wife and what she agrees to do. That is my reality, and now all those fantasies are just gone. They bring me no thrill, no joy, no high any more. I feel lifeless and flat. The reality of my world means the world that meant so much through the years holds no pleasure for me now. I feel like I am on a slow march to the grave, like there is nothing left worth living for.
I love sex. I cant help it. Blame the abuse or whatever you want. I have decided all that doesnt really matter much now. I have beat the whys to death, and it really hasnt helped much. The bottom line is I love sex, and that is who I am.
All those years of acting out, I felt bad for being out of control with sex, but there was another side too. See, I always felt so alive, like every day could be an adventure. My mind would grab hold of one fantasy for a while, and I would look at porn of it, fantasize of it, masturbate to it, and if possible share it with my partner. When I got tired of it, I could move on to the next thing that struck me, but there was always this kind of running adventure going on inside me.
Now that I am RECOVERED and in the name of being a good husband, I have turned my back on all of that. Now, everything sexual is directed at my wife. I dont allow myself to cyber, I dont write, I dont look at porn, and I dont fantasize. See the thing with my fantasies is there was always this element of hope. I always hoped some day I could do all these things. When I decided to move home, I gave up my hope. I realized I was choosing Deborah, and I knew what that meant.
The funny thing is, I thought if I gave myself permission to explore some of the fringes I used to love, the ones that seemed okay for a married guy that it would bring something back. I dont want any of that stuff any more, because it can never be real now. I will never know anything outside of my wife and what she agrees to do. That is my reality, and now all those fantasies are just gone. They bring me no thrill, no joy, no high any more. I feel lifeless and flat. The reality of my world means the world that meant so much through the years holds no pleasure for me now. I feel like I am on a slow march to the grave, like there is nothing left worth living for.