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Sunday, March 29, 2009

My Realization

I didn't realize that I was, in fact, a sex addict until later in my addiction. I always knew I wasn't your average girl next door, but I didn't think it was a problem.

I don't know if it's the normal thing to do, because most probably have few enough people on their "roster" to be able to name them off the top of their head, but I keep a diary... and on the back pages I write the people I have had sex with. I had a period of time in my life - about 6 months - that I didn't write at all in this diary, and when I went back to it, I went to update my list. When I realized I had more than 10 men to add in that short period of time, I started to think I had some issues. Some women don't sleep with more than 10 men in their entire lives, and I blew that away in 6 months. That's when I resolved to go to a counselor.

I have an addictive personality. I become addicted to anything that makes me feel "good." I'm not talking about "good," as in high... I'm talking about feeling normal. I want to feel calm, and I want to feel love, and attention, like I'm important. That's why I so easily became addicted, also, to therapy. I wanted to go every single day because I had a captive audience who wasn't there to call me bad names and tell me I'm crazy - but to help me.

My therapist's name was Elaine. She was an older woman, mid-to-late 30's, with a very soothing voice and calming presence. She made me feel welcome immediately, and I sat across from her in an uncomfortable leather chair two times a week and sold my soul. I told her everything, anything she asked I answered, and I said whatever I felt or thought... which led her, finally, to the conclusion that I am a sex addict. I got so into it sometimes that our hour-long sessions turned into two-hour-long sessions. She was very accommodating, and after a while she scheduled me around lunchtime so I could have my two hours and talk to her while she ate. It seems strange looking back on it that I felt so comfortable telling this middle-aged woman all my filthy fantasies and experiences, but I did, and she never blinked twice.

Even when I was young, before I ever had sex, I was curious about it. I mean, all kids, to a certain point, are curious about anatomy and where babies come from. But me - it was different. I was curious about which hole the penis is supposed to go in and if it hurt, and how long I had to wait before I tried it. I also discovered myself very early - I think I was 9 or 10 when I had my first orgasm. I was never sexually abused, no one was overly-friendly with me at a young age - I'm really unsure as to where this all came from, but it's my reality. We talked about that too, Elaine and I, and she was determined to uncover some hidden truth about my childhood... but there were none.

Elaine gave me a prescription for Xanax, which, in case you've never heard of it, is a nerve pill. She felt it would help me resist my impulses, and by doing so, reduce them. Well... Xanax made me feel fantastic... and you should know by now what that led to... but that's another story.

While I was attending therapy we talked about ways to treat my addiction. It's not your everyday run-of-the-mill drug addict fix... it's much more complicated than that. While in treatment for sex addiction they recommend you abstain from sex (of any kind, masturbation included) for 3 full months. After that you should only have sex when you have consciously decided to do so for reasons that will be fulfilling to you after the fact, so as not to lead again into the vicious cycle that sex addiction becomes. I, obviously, fell off the wagon.

Eventually, Elaine told me that since I'd been diagnosed, I could come back once a month for follow-ups. I didn't go back after that. It was a tease to only be able to go once a month. I wanted it all or not at all, and that's just the way it was. I did okay while I was in therapy, but as soon as I couldn't have my two-a-weeks, I was back to the old me... but I still filled my prescriptions, and ate them everyday, usually washing them down with Vodka.

That's a bit of my background. I'm off to bed now, though... it's so late.

Who am I, really?

I'll just use this particular opportunity to introduce myself, so to speak. I am a clinically diagnosed sex addict, of the female variety. Half my life I have been consumed with sexual desire... and if you knew how old I was you would be surprised. I'm not a teenage attention seeker, by any means, or I'd introduce myself by name. I've left my teenage, carefree years behind. I have a family who loves me and a job where I am respected, but no outlet for the "real" me. I don't have a "boyfriend" currently... I have what the world likes to call a friend with benefits, or FWB. Strangely enough, he and I have been seeing each other for over a year... and I've been more faithful to him than any real boyfriend I've ever had. Yes, I've explored a bit with others during our current run... but what he doesn't know won't hurt him, and it was only 3 times... or maybe 4. We've exchanged "I love you's," but the mystery I cannot solve is, do I really love him, or do I love the sex? I think about that a lot, but still have not come up with a clear answer. He knows me... better than anyone else. He knows my secrets and what I really think about all day long. He is the only person I can say lewd things to all day and he's not a bit surprised. Maybe it's the freedom of speech I love, it's really hard to say.

I've always wanted to write a book, based upon my experiences. I haven't built up the courage to do so, because truly... like any disease might cause someone to feel, it can be embarrassing. It's embarrassing that something so small that people toss to the side as nothing more than a pasttime can control your life. When you hear about female sex addicts, more popularly called "nymphos," it's in a very sexual light. Men want these women... they covet them as though they have the golden ticket to life. These women who claim to be sex addicts, the ones that make it "sexy," are not really sex addicts. They wouldn't know an addiction if it smacked them in the face. I want people to know what it's really like. The constant yearning, the promiscuity that is truly unintentional, the ruined relationships, the labels, the physical discomforts lack of sex can cause... and my favorite... the inability to consume alcoholic beverages without the guarantee that I'll be having sex [[to avoid the insanity I feel, the nagging voice in the back of my head, the cold sweats, the masturbation that leads to nothing but more masturbation, the aches in my bones...]]

I'm not sure anyone will ever read this... but if you do, and you wish to take this journey through my past and my current life, welcome aboard. I'll be posting as often as I can, I'm sure. Welcome to my world.