****NSFW language right from the beginning. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.****
I fucked up. There is no hiding it. This is not the time to minimalize it. I made a mistake. I relapsed on an old habit.
For those of you who know me personally or who have bee following my blog over the last two years, you are well aware that I struggled with two addictions. For the newcomers, I first will work myself to the point of no return. I burn myself out in hopes of distracting myself from real pain and in an attempt to remain productive to feed my withered ego. My other is women.
Through years of therapy, it seemed being with a woman filled an emotional void left deep down from chronic trauma. It got the point where I was sleeping with three or four women in a day when it was at its worst. I was blowing hundreds upon hundreds of dollars at strip clubs. I was getting the VIP treatment and living like a high roller without the high roller budget.
I never tried drugs or drank alcohol, so women became my vice. I figured out how to communicate with them and develop an intimate connection. All of which provided me with the physical intimacy and emotional aspect that I lacked. This was the case even if it was only for an evening like in the case of the strip clubs.
It felt like a drug. I engaged in risky behavior to fulfill an emotional need for immediate relief. As the high wore off though, feelings of guilt and shame ran rampant. My soul sometimes felt ripped apart. I realized the emotional and mental consequences of my actions, but the damage was already done. When the next urge came around, I swear I experienced short-term memory loss. My focus was on getting my high.
I will say that I am better with it than I was, but I still have urges. The urges worsen when I am overwhelmed and under a lot of stress. The last few weeks were just that. Stressful as fuck.
(Feel free to check out last week’s post on that: https://caringcounselor.blog/2019/06/09/what-could-possibly-go-wrong/)
As a result, unfortunately, I was back on the hunt. For the first time in almost two years, the lion escaped from its cage. It was on the prowl for unsuspecting gazelle to feast on. Any spare minute I had was spent swiping left and right on Tinder. I perused through profiles on Plenty of Fish. The urges worsened. I need a release.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, and fate had its eye on my desperation. On one of the dating sites, I came across a familiar face. It was a woman I hooked up with about two years ago. I clicked on her profile and thought, “This could be my opportunity.” This felt almost too easy. I sent her a message. “Long time no see.” I then went about my business onto other profiles.
A few hours later, she responds. She asked me how I was doing, and we quickly made arrangements to meet up later that night.
I picked her up from her house. We drove around the corner to find a dark patch away from any neighborhoods. That was it. I relapsed. I fell into the trap. I fell for it. I was duped. However, you want to say it. I fucked up.
This story fits in right alongside dozens of others – a plethora of fucked up stories with women, sex, and me. Trust me. I did plenty of things with women I am not proud of by any means. Most of the stories are disgusting and embarrassing. However, I do not regret what I did.
I learned a great deal about myself through this addiction. It got me to receive the treatment I needed through therapy. As a result, I explored areas of my psyche I likely would have never looked at. I have a much stronger understanding of the individual I am at the core. I have a stronger sense of self. I know what a healthy emotional connection looks like as well.
Even with this most recent relapse, I came to a strong realization. This time felt much different than any other time. I had zero emotional connection with this woman. In any intimate encounter up until now, I always relied on that emotional aspect. It was what fueled the addiction. This time around I did not have that whatsoever. That in itself was odd since I knew this girl, which normally would have given me a stronger connection to her at least on my end.
What I gathered from it is that my psyche no longer wants to engage in this kind of behavior. It wants to go about it the right way. In a fucked up, self-sabotaging way, the relapse may have been a test for me. I was testing my readiness to move on from the addiction and into something more meaningful. These quick fixes were no longer going to satisfy my emotional hunger. I was ready for the real deal.
I will overcome this relapse. I am not too concerned about re-engaging in the behavior any time soon. I have way more insight now and coping skills to manage these feelings than I ever have before. I am no longer in denial of my problematic behavior, which is often the biggest hurdle to overcome. Therefore, getting back on track will be relatively easy. Even this post is part of that process.
For now though, the lion got his fill. He has been satisfied for the time being. However, his hunger will return. It will be up to me to change his diet before he pounces.
-The Caring Counselor