PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Thank you. We are and we shall!
Moving Forward
- Thread starter PrometheusUnbound
- Start date
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Day 61
I have completed 60 days, which is some kind of milestone (although I’m looking forward to 90).
The positives:
I have completed 60 days, which is some kind of milestone (although I’m looking forward to 90).
The positives:
- I have been doing a lot more self-reflection, rather than wallowing/obsessing/denying during this time. It’s dark and murky in there but it feels like a necessary first step.
- I am starting to distance myself a little from the stories that I have built my identity around.
- My relationship and communication with my partner is improving.
- I feel less of a fraud around my son and can enjoy this magical time with him more, without obsessing that I am polluting him.
- I am objectifying women a lot less than before, which is something I didn’t really admit to myself that I could control.
- I am also (re?)gaining a sense of control over my life and myself; starting to feel that I can do things that I set my mind to.
- I am not compulsively masturbating.
- I haven’t been trying to alleviate my anxiety with a drug that causes more anxiety.
- I am not contributing to cycles of abuse.
- I get urges due to boredom/anxiety/insomnia.
- I still need to rein in some of my fantasies/sex expectations and ground them in reality.
- I have no social life and am very avoidant.
- I need to be a lot more physically active and health-focused.
- I have a lot of circular thinking/obsession to break free from (especially related to my father).
Aeodh Dan
Active Member
This is an important point....not to be overlooked.
The early "shaping" as little boys is so important, and we naturally look to our fathers as examples of what a man should be. Obviously the early years are highly dependent on the mother to nurture and care for us, but Dad is who we look up to. One of my earliest memories is holding his large hand, and I thought it was huge! The father is the protector, the king, he represents the earliest form of "God" to us and I think it "shapes" how we relate to authority figures for the rest of our lives. My Dad was angry a lot and also absent a lot. He was also a sex addict.
He died 6 years ago and did not accept the fact that he was dying...he fought it hard, in the end he had to be drugged to keep him calm. He did not openly share, was very secretive and mostly just wanted to be left alone, but demanded that my Mom serve him like a fucking slave. He was an ass hole. But deep down I adored him while also hating him! What a paradox.
He lives within me still.
Onmyway19
Active Member
I know this feeling all too well.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Thank you for this. It seems like we have a number of things in common. It's very complicated, and is not quietening down as I get older (as I guess thought it would).
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
No PMO Day 67; no MO Day 5
I haven’t MO’d for four days. This, given my years of compulsive wanking, is pretty good. In some way it’s not a big deal at all, but that is also what is good about it.
I have been a mess for a very long time. I probably should have been in therapy years ago.
I can’t remember how old I was, but once my dad wanted to ‘teach’ me about human male anatomy. We were in my parents bedroom in the house I grew up in. He had his trousers and underwear down, and he made/encouraged me to prod his balls to see what they felt like. I remember it being dark and hairy. I don’t think anything else happened, but I always feel uncomfortable when I remember this. I felt sick when I was writing it down.
Another time, the whole family was together in the TV room. I don’t know how or why the topic of human anatomy was being discussed but my dad encouraged my mum to show us her breast(s) for ‘educational’ purposes I guess. She refused.
Many years later, when I was maybe 13 or 14 I was in the bath. I ‘encouraged’ my little sister (who would have been 3 or so maybe) to prod my dick once, just like my dad had done. I don’t know why I did it. I hate that I did but there it is.
Around this time I was up late in the TV room wanking to Kerry Strug’s dramatic gymnastic performance at the Atlanta Olympics. My dad came into the room and asked what I was doing. I said I was getting ready for a shower. “At this time of the night?” I said “Yes.”
When I was between 11 and 12 maybe, I was on a New Year’s holiday with my auntie, cousin, his best friend, and my second cousin who was visiting from Canada. She was around 12 or 13. None of us wanted to share a room with her because she was a girl, but I was chosen in the end, mainly I think, because I was the ‘mature’ one. She told me there was ‘nothing to see anyway’. I am not 100% certain if what follows is a dream or not, but I think it’s real. During the night I took a bottle of suncream and squirted it on her butt and rubbed it in when she was sleeping. She appeared not to wake up, but also appeared to enjoy it (in the dark and my messed up mind). This was a strange compulsive act that I am unsure where to place to this day. Did I assault her when I was young? Why would I do that? In subsequent years, I have wanted to know if she knew about it, and if she was ok. But, it is not something I would ever ask.
Although I ended up wanting to be away from my family, I hated being sent away to boarding school. For a long time I couldn’t understand why they would do that. My father said it was to make me more independent (oh, the irony). He also said that his father had been to boarding school and hated it, and that he was angry that he had made the decision to not send him. He felt like he had missed out on something, maybe something that would have made him live up to his father, and so decided to send me.
I haven’t MO’d for four days. This, given my years of compulsive wanking, is pretty good. In some way it’s not a big deal at all, but that is also what is good about it.
I have been a mess for a very long time. I probably should have been in therapy years ago.
I can’t remember how old I was, but once my dad wanted to ‘teach’ me about human male anatomy. We were in my parents bedroom in the house I grew up in. He had his trousers and underwear down, and he made/encouraged me to prod his balls to see what they felt like. I remember it being dark and hairy. I don’t think anything else happened, but I always feel uncomfortable when I remember this. I felt sick when I was writing it down.
Another time, the whole family was together in the TV room. I don’t know how or why the topic of human anatomy was being discussed but my dad encouraged my mum to show us her breast(s) for ‘educational’ purposes I guess. She refused.
Many years later, when I was maybe 13 or 14 I was in the bath. I ‘encouraged’ my little sister (who would have been 3 or so maybe) to prod my dick once, just like my dad had done. I don’t know why I did it. I hate that I did but there it is.
Around this time I was up late in the TV room wanking to Kerry Strug’s dramatic gymnastic performance at the Atlanta Olympics. My dad came into the room and asked what I was doing. I said I was getting ready for a shower. “At this time of the night?” I said “Yes.”
When I was between 11 and 12 maybe, I was on a New Year’s holiday with my auntie, cousin, his best friend, and my second cousin who was visiting from Canada. She was around 12 or 13. None of us wanted to share a room with her because she was a girl, but I was chosen in the end, mainly I think, because I was the ‘mature’ one. She told me there was ‘nothing to see anyway’. I am not 100% certain if what follows is a dream or not, but I think it’s real. During the night I took a bottle of suncream and squirted it on her butt and rubbed it in when she was sleeping. She appeared not to wake up, but also appeared to enjoy it (in the dark and my messed up mind). This was a strange compulsive act that I am unsure where to place to this day. Did I assault her when I was young? Why would I do that? In subsequent years, I have wanted to know if she knew about it, and if she was ok. But, it is not something I would ever ask.
Although I ended up wanting to be away from my family, I hated being sent away to boarding school. For a long time I couldn’t understand why they would do that. My father said it was to make me more independent (oh, the irony). He also said that his father had been to boarding school and hated it, and that he was angry that he had made the decision to not send him. He felt like he had missed out on something, maybe something that would have made him live up to his father, and so decided to send me.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Only a couple of years ago, I used to fall asleep with the laptop on the bed, having spent hours wanking into the night. I would wake up late and have to go into work immediately, without preparation etc. Porn would be still loaded in my browser, sometimes 10s of tabs. And who knows whether it was going to autoplay and at what volume in the open foyer, where a lot of my work takes place, It was a horrible source of anxiety. I would sometimes take my laptop to a bathroom cubicle with me and try and open it there. Other times I just opened it and had forgotten. I do think it was seen a couple of times. There was definitely the flash or audio once. Some many times I was wondering if I was going to lose my job (or worse). Both the staying up too late, and the fear (and reality) of porn open in public at work, are things that I do not miss at all. In fact, during this rough patch, it’s something that is a source of comfort to me. I am not experiencing the dirt and anxiety of those times.
Simon2
Well-Known Member
Man, thank you for this honest account of your past. I have had many of the same experiences and guilty memories. We have to realize that as 12 year olds or even 14 year olds we were just kids. We didn't know how to process sexual energy yet. You've beat yourself up over these past events long enough. Don't let them define the rest of your life! (That's the message I've been trying to give to myself too).
I did eventually talk to someone very close to me that I felt I had taken advantage of when I was in my early teens. I was so scared. I felt horrible for decades before... turns out she didn't remember and didn't think it was a big deal given our ages at the time. It was a huge boulder off my shoulders... maybe you should take the risk and just bring it up with your cousin? It could be life changing...
This journey is a lot about gaining self-knowledge isn't it?
I did eventually talk to someone very close to me that I felt I had taken advantage of when I was in my early teens. I was so scared. I felt horrible for decades before... turns out she didn't remember and didn't think it was a big deal given our ages at the time. It was a huge boulder off my shoulders... maybe you should take the risk and just bring it up with your cousin? It could be life changing...
This journey is a lot about gaining self-knowledge isn't it?
Aeodh Dan
Active Member
Well, I guess I'm not the only one with a messed up family of origin.
I don't know if you are able, but perhaps you can find a little humor in all of it...you know my Dad did something similar once when I was a kid ...he walked over and pulled my Mom's shirt up over her breasts right in front of me, it was a weird and spontaneous act, but very disturbing to me. My Dad was a fucking perverted moron; he also treated my half sister like shit, whom he had adopted, I think he got off on it. My sister had large breasts, and he took us to a nude beach in Florida, where I think he enjoyed looking at her. I still hate him even though he is gone now, but sometimes I have to laugh (or cry), but it has to be dealt with somehow.
I am still in my mid life crisis, it's been going on for about 3-4 years now, thank God my kids are grown and gone so they don't have to witness it. But somehow, I think I will emerge as a new person, I just don't know what that looks like yet.
Keep writing this stuff down, my friend, it's therapy and helping some of us as well!
I don't know if you are able, but perhaps you can find a little humor in all of it...you know my Dad did something similar once when I was a kid ...he walked over and pulled my Mom's shirt up over her breasts right in front of me, it was a weird and spontaneous act, but very disturbing to me. My Dad was a fucking perverted moron; he also treated my half sister like shit, whom he had adopted, I think he got off on it. My sister had large breasts, and he took us to a nude beach in Florida, where I think he enjoyed looking at her. I still hate him even though he is gone now, but sometimes I have to laugh (or cry), but it has to be dealt with somehow.
I am still in my mid life crisis, it's been going on for about 3-4 years now, thank God my kids are grown and gone so they don't have to witness it. But somehow, I think I will emerge as a new person, I just don't know what that looks like yet.
Keep writing this stuff down, my friend, it's therapy and helping some of us as well!
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
SimonM, I appreciate your advice and also putting yourself out there (I don't think it's easy to do). Because of your words, I can start to put it behind me.
Yes, it's a path of self-discovery; and one long overdue for me.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Thanks for sharing this Aeodh Dan. It validates a lot of things that I feel. It also means I don't have to hold on to it so tightly, knowing that there others, like yourself who are working through similar things. I would want for you the means to move on; so I can wish the same for myself too.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
No PMO Day 71; no MO day 9
I haven't posted for a few days due to tiredness and stress, but things are going generally ok on the recovery front. I decided to take a breaking from MOing 8 days ago, as I was starting to do it daily, and my fantasies were starting to become more pornographic. Since then, I have found I don't have any of those fantasies and I'm not using MO as an anxiety medication. I have a had a minor urges to PMO these days, all manageable; more when my partner and I are having a rough time. I have been spending a lot of time on my phone. I have noticed also, especially because of no MO, a lot of the time I have an erection when I read about porn addiction. It's actually the most time that I do these days. And because I have been spending so much time reading about porn, I wonder if I am inadvertently thinking/picturing it more than I would otherwise. However, I do think that the reading is an integral part of my recovery, so this is probably more than balanced out. Book-wise, I have read The Easy Peasy Method, Your Brain On Porn, Out of the Shadows, and am currently reading Wack. If anyone has any other reading suggestions, they would be much appreciated.
Something that I have learned over the past few years (and often forgotten) is that the acting out is never as satisfying as the craving makes out that it will be. The first cigarette after a break is always disgusting. I feel bloated, prematurely hungover and depressed after even minor drinking. Porn also never hits the spot. It’s the search that’s exciting; the idea of the perfect scene to finish to. But I never want to reach that point. I wish that I could edge forever. But edging forever is cyberpunk dystopia, where the someone plugged into in a VR machine has died, alone in his own filth, willfully unaware of the reality of the situation. And the climax is always precisely the opposite, an anticlimax. It’s a split second of too much sensation and then cold reality, guilt and shame. It’s the immediate closing of the browser. The asking of why I'm like this. Cravings for porn, cigarettes and alcohol all feel the same too, when compared to each other. It's not the thing itself that I want; it's the satiation of the craving that thing creates. I am now a non-user of all three. I currently feel the same about MO - it's not going to have the calming effect I think it is.
I haven't posted for a few days due to tiredness and stress, but things are going generally ok on the recovery front. I decided to take a breaking from MOing 8 days ago, as I was starting to do it daily, and my fantasies were starting to become more pornographic. Since then, I have found I don't have any of those fantasies and I'm not using MO as an anxiety medication. I have a had a minor urges to PMO these days, all manageable; more when my partner and I are having a rough time. I have been spending a lot of time on my phone. I have noticed also, especially because of no MO, a lot of the time I have an erection when I read about porn addiction. It's actually the most time that I do these days. And because I have been spending so much time reading about porn, I wonder if I am inadvertently thinking/picturing it more than I would otherwise. However, I do think that the reading is an integral part of my recovery, so this is probably more than balanced out. Book-wise, I have read The Easy Peasy Method, Your Brain On Porn, Out of the Shadows, and am currently reading Wack. If anyone has any other reading suggestions, they would be much appreciated.
Something that I have learned over the past few years (and often forgotten) is that the acting out is never as satisfying as the craving makes out that it will be. The first cigarette after a break is always disgusting. I feel bloated, prematurely hungover and depressed after even minor drinking. Porn also never hits the spot. It’s the search that’s exciting; the idea of the perfect scene to finish to. But I never want to reach that point. I wish that I could edge forever. But edging forever is cyberpunk dystopia, where the someone plugged into in a VR machine has died, alone in his own filth, willfully unaware of the reality of the situation. And the climax is always precisely the opposite, an anticlimax. It’s a split second of too much sensation and then cold reality, guilt and shame. It’s the immediate closing of the browser. The asking of why I'm like this. Cravings for porn, cigarettes and alcohol all feel the same too, when compared to each other. It's not the thing itself that I want; it's the satiation of the craving that thing creates. I am now a non-user of all three. I currently feel the same about MO - it's not going to have the calming effect I think it is.
Aeodh Dan
Active Member
This a good realization and I think it is characteristic of life in general. The "thing" or the "object of desire"...once you get it, then what? I've heard over and over that "life is a journey" and it's become a cliche of sorts. But it's true. The journey begins and ends in the same place I think. The anticipation is what drives us, isn't it? We are so conditioned to think that an orgasm is the highest form of ecstasy that a person can attain, and even though after the first one we are let down we keep thinking it will get better, but it never does. As with everything else, we need to balance our sensitivity to sexual stimuli with rationality and a sense of the "greater good" I think. In other words, rationality implies "rationing", so limited indulgences with an eye on the question: "how is my current behavior affecting the environment around me? the people around me? The idea of sacrifice, delayed gratification, restraint etc. seems to be a thing of the past in our culture.
I also think that your reading of literature on the recovery topic is something you need right now...keep going; I have also been reading a lot lately. Spiritual topics mainly, but whatever it is that drives us forward, only you and I know what that is for our personal recovery needs.
I also think that your reading of literature on the recovery topic is something you need right now...keep going; I have also been reading a lot lately. Spiritual topics mainly, but whatever it is that drives us forward, only you and I know what that is for our personal recovery needs.
Simon2
Well-Known Member
Love this!
One book I read that I enjoyed a lot is called "Savage Breast" by Tim Ward. Especially if you're interested in the mythological evolution of the Goddess etc. But he writes from the perspective of a sex addict on a journey to discovery.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
No PMO Day 80; no MO day 18
I haven't journaled for a while as I got COVID along with my 9 month old son. He had a couple of hairy days but is thankfully through the worst of it. We still have a few more days home isolation before he can go to the babysitter and I can resume work (it's a mandatory 7 days where I live). He will wake up soon, so I won't write much for now.
I am on day 80 of no PMO, which is certainly the longest in my life. I am also on day 18 of no MO which must also be some kind of record for me. Everything is in working order and I have urges, but nothing that the greater mission isn't taking care of at the moment. Mostly out of boredom or habit. The weather is hot so I am not wearing a lot at home. And my brain is more than a little confused as to why I'm not wanking with my idle hands [edit: yesterday I woke up feeling dirty from a dream in which I tried to M over something that wasn't porn, but some slightly desperate substitute]. Still, it's the lowest and most manageable my sex drive has ever been. It does make me wonder how much I have been revving it up myself over the years, and then telling myself it's something out of my control. My partner and I have no physical contact at the moment, and will continue to do so until I test negative (she is in food/events and needs to test negative). It's making me look forward to when we do, rather than frustrated that we don't.
I decided to download a book about Buddhism (which I have so far studiously avoided). I have always had a passing interest in it, and the benefits of meditation has been discussed a lot in recent years, especially in relation to addiction, developing the prefrontal cortex, decision making, delaying gratification etc. I'm going to read a couple of pages before my son wakes up.
Anon.
I haven't journaled for a while as I got COVID along with my 9 month old son. He had a couple of hairy days but is thankfully through the worst of it. We still have a few more days home isolation before he can go to the babysitter and I can resume work (it's a mandatory 7 days where I live). He will wake up soon, so I won't write much for now.
I am on day 80 of no PMO, which is certainly the longest in my life. I am also on day 18 of no MO which must also be some kind of record for me. Everything is in working order and I have urges, but nothing that the greater mission isn't taking care of at the moment. Mostly out of boredom or habit. The weather is hot so I am not wearing a lot at home. And my brain is more than a little confused as to why I'm not wanking with my idle hands [edit: yesterday I woke up feeling dirty from a dream in which I tried to M over something that wasn't porn, but some slightly desperate substitute]. Still, it's the lowest and most manageable my sex drive has ever been. It does make me wonder how much I have been revving it up myself over the years, and then telling myself it's something out of my control. My partner and I have no physical contact at the moment, and will continue to do so until I test negative (she is in food/events and needs to test negative). It's making me look forward to when we do, rather than frustrated that we don't.
I decided to download a book about Buddhism (which I have so far studiously avoided). I have always had a passing interest in it, and the benefits of meditation has been discussed a lot in recent years, especially in relation to addiction, developing the prefrontal cortex, decision making, delaying gratification etc. I'm going to read a couple of pages before my son wakes up.
Anon.
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TakeActionNow
Respected Member
@PrometheusUnbound, is your young son your first? I too have a young son who is my first. Though I started reboot 5 years ago, only this year I am making tremendous headway because of my deep love for my son (last few years being tougher becasue he was still a baby and I was not in a good relationship with the Mrs)
He being older now makes it easier for me to relate and engage with him. He is giving me ALL the reasons to be a good father and role model. Now all I want to do is improve in so many ways!
This desire to improve is the foundation to giving up PMO naturally and completely. PMO just doesn't make any sense to me anymore. I feel so good about myself and his love for me that there is no need to look elsewhere for emotional supplementation (which PMO simply is)
I wish the same for you too. It really is love (for self and family) that saves us from our demons.
He being older now makes it easier for me to relate and engage with him. He is giving me ALL the reasons to be a good father and role model. Now all I want to do is improve in so many ways!
This desire to improve is the foundation to giving up PMO naturally and completely. PMO just doesn't make any sense to me anymore. I feel so good about myself and his love for me that there is no need to look elsewhere for emotional supplementation (which PMO simply is)
I wish the same for you too. It really is love (for self and family) that saves us from our demons.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
Thank you so much. Yes, he is my first. It is he that is making this so important for me to get a handle on. What scared me was that it reached its zenith after he was born. The fact of his existence didn't save me, of course it couldn't; but I didn't realise that I could make it so much worse. Being given a another shot at clarity and chance to move forward to be a better person and father is a real blessing - one which I do not want to mess up.
I cannot PMO any more. The version of me that path leads to isn't fit to be his father, so it's no longer an option.
I'm glad you are finding your way, and you have his love.
TakeActionNow
Respected Member
@PrometheusUnbound I believe one of the reasons why we turn to PMO is that we are seeking love and attention. It may be we dont know how to give it to, and take better care of ourselves.
When your son is young, be kind and gentle with him. Love him and play with him often. Enjoy his fat and clumsy way. Earn his full trust and confidence before he is 3, as it will root permanently in his subconscious.
After 3, when he can run, talk and opiniated, he will come to you and engage with you and return your love in so many ways.
Love heals and completes us that no substitute ever can.
When your son is young, be kind and gentle with him. Love him and play with him often. Enjoy his fat and clumsy way. Earn his full trust and confidence before he is 3, as it will root permanently in his subconscious.
After 3, when he can run, talk and opiniated, he will come to you and engage with you and return your love in so many ways.
Love heals and completes us that no substitute ever can.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
No PMO Day 81; no MO day 19
Everything you have said resonates with me and is beautifully put. We will be fat and clumsy together. And I do believe he is teaching me how to love.
I am still haven't found my why for PMO addiction. It is probably along those lines.
Your practical and grounded approach (also in your other writings/suggestions) is appreciated.
Everything you have said resonates with me and is beautifully put. We will be fat and clumsy together. And I do believe he is teaching me how to love.
I am still haven't found my why for PMO addiction. It is probably along those lines.
Your practical and grounded approach (also in your other writings/suggestions) is appreciated.
PrometheusUnbound
Active Member
No PMO Day 84; no MO Day 22
I am my father’s son.
I was married for a short time. Towards the end of it I had an affair with my best friend at the time. I told myself it was because of loneliness. I never told my ex-wife. To this day (although we are not in touch), I believe she has no idea. The person who I had an affair with is famous where I live and so we agreed that I couldn’t mention anything for the sake of it getting out into the public. But the real reason I didn’t tell her is because I have been a coward more concerned with appearing to be a good person than being one. I couldn’t face having my real face revealed.
When I was young our family had live-in aupairs from Eastern Europe as both of my parents worked full time. I think they were mostly around 18 or 19. It was an odd arrangement. The house wasn’t that big and they often stayed in pairs. I say often because there was a pretty high turnover in the house. They would often leave suddenly. One left in the middle of the night. One night there was some kind of sound from the back garden so my father sent my younger brother to go and check. My brother says he saw one them in the garden, although he wasn’t believed. I never thought too hard about it all when I was younger. One of them was from a Mormon family. My father would often wax poetic about how Mormons were some of the most honorable people in a debauched modern world and how much he respected them. It turns out that they were sleeping together in the house while my mum was seriously ill in the hospital after complications following her 4th Caesarian section (I was the first). Once she almost caught them but my father gaslit her aggressively and abusively. Around 8 years later, when I was 18, he finally confessed to her, saying that he hadn’t admitted it because he was a coward. I remember my mum in tears that day, and she told me what had happened. She told me not to say that she had told me. I wanted to punch him in the face, but I bottled the anger.
Around the time of that particular affair I remember him telling me that it was completely wrong to lie, as a matter of principle, in any situation. If someone was delirious and dying on their death bed and sought comfort in you thinking you were their child, you were to set them straight, not give them solace under false pretenses. I couldn’t understand his hard line. I do now. It was the ideal that he couldn’t live up to, and he was passing it on to me. During that period he also told me that if I murdered someone he would lie to the police to cover it up because family comes first and “the law’s an ass”. From time to time since finding out, I have wondered if I have a half brother or sister somewhere. What hadn’t occurred to me until I started this journey was the notion that this was not the only time. It is the only time that was admitted. And that all the others leaving suddenly was to do with my father. Why were there so many teenage girls living in our house? And why did some leave in the middle of the night with no warning, sometimes leaving their stuff?
I remember another time, a new au pair had arrived the night before. The next day she went to the library. I was excited because she had put some make up on. I must have mentioned it to my parents who had some kind of talk with her as she never wore make up again, and was gone in a few weeks. It might have been the same talk that my dad gave my mum one night, asking her why she was dressed like a “common tart”. Which, even in his own lexicon, was a stretch. Now I understand that he was projecting and masking his own failures. He always projected himself as the last of a dying breed. As a man amongst degenerates. He would often decry the fall of the Western white man to me. When I would remind him that I was mixed race and that actually he was more responsible for it than I, he would just reply that I knew what he meant. Races should not mix. You should be white. Why do you have 4 mixed race kids then? It’s a woman’s prerogative to have a man’s children. I always knew that there was no logic to it, but these are deeply ingrained in me. He projected these ideals that he couldn’t live up to for me to fail to live up to too.
My litany of sins may be shorter than his, but I have carried myself in many similar ways. I have been able to lie all too easily, and always find some way to justify it; to cast myself as the victim, and blame others for my misfortune. The past few years of my life have been chaos, jumping from one bad decision to another, cheating, lying, betraying – all the while wondering why life is has been treating me this way. Porn and alcohol have been crutches that I have used to numb myself, and then as justifications for the way I have acted. I have used them to avoid facing myself and making the improvements I have long needed to make.
I stopped drinking when my partner became pregnant with our son. And now I am on my 84th day of being a non-user of porn. I will change what ‘I am my father’s son’ means for my son if he ever has to say it.
I am my father’s son.
I was married for a short time. Towards the end of it I had an affair with my best friend at the time. I told myself it was because of loneliness. I never told my ex-wife. To this day (although we are not in touch), I believe she has no idea. The person who I had an affair with is famous where I live and so we agreed that I couldn’t mention anything for the sake of it getting out into the public. But the real reason I didn’t tell her is because I have been a coward more concerned with appearing to be a good person than being one. I couldn’t face having my real face revealed.
When I was young our family had live-in aupairs from Eastern Europe as both of my parents worked full time. I think they were mostly around 18 or 19. It was an odd arrangement. The house wasn’t that big and they often stayed in pairs. I say often because there was a pretty high turnover in the house. They would often leave suddenly. One left in the middle of the night. One night there was some kind of sound from the back garden so my father sent my younger brother to go and check. My brother says he saw one them in the garden, although he wasn’t believed. I never thought too hard about it all when I was younger. One of them was from a Mormon family. My father would often wax poetic about how Mormons were some of the most honorable people in a debauched modern world and how much he respected them. It turns out that they were sleeping together in the house while my mum was seriously ill in the hospital after complications following her 4th Caesarian section (I was the first). Once she almost caught them but my father gaslit her aggressively and abusively. Around 8 years later, when I was 18, he finally confessed to her, saying that he hadn’t admitted it because he was a coward. I remember my mum in tears that day, and she told me what had happened. She told me not to say that she had told me. I wanted to punch him in the face, but I bottled the anger.
Around the time of that particular affair I remember him telling me that it was completely wrong to lie, as a matter of principle, in any situation. If someone was delirious and dying on their death bed and sought comfort in you thinking you were their child, you were to set them straight, not give them solace under false pretenses. I couldn’t understand his hard line. I do now. It was the ideal that he couldn’t live up to, and he was passing it on to me. During that period he also told me that if I murdered someone he would lie to the police to cover it up because family comes first and “the law’s an ass”. From time to time since finding out, I have wondered if I have a half brother or sister somewhere. What hadn’t occurred to me until I started this journey was the notion that this was not the only time. It is the only time that was admitted. And that all the others leaving suddenly was to do with my father. Why were there so many teenage girls living in our house? And why did some leave in the middle of the night with no warning, sometimes leaving their stuff?
I remember another time, a new au pair had arrived the night before. The next day she went to the library. I was excited because she had put some make up on. I must have mentioned it to my parents who had some kind of talk with her as she never wore make up again, and was gone in a few weeks. It might have been the same talk that my dad gave my mum one night, asking her why she was dressed like a “common tart”. Which, even in his own lexicon, was a stretch. Now I understand that he was projecting and masking his own failures. He always projected himself as the last of a dying breed. As a man amongst degenerates. He would often decry the fall of the Western white man to me. When I would remind him that I was mixed race and that actually he was more responsible for it than I, he would just reply that I knew what he meant. Races should not mix. You should be white. Why do you have 4 mixed race kids then? It’s a woman’s prerogative to have a man’s children. I always knew that there was no logic to it, but these are deeply ingrained in me. He projected these ideals that he couldn’t live up to for me to fail to live up to too.
My litany of sins may be shorter than his, but I have carried myself in many similar ways. I have been able to lie all too easily, and always find some way to justify it; to cast myself as the victim, and blame others for my misfortune. The past few years of my life have been chaos, jumping from one bad decision to another, cheating, lying, betraying – all the while wondering why life is has been treating me this way. Porn and alcohol have been crutches that I have used to numb myself, and then as justifications for the way I have acted. I have used them to avoid facing myself and making the improvements I have long needed to make.
I stopped drinking when my partner became pregnant with our son. And now I am on my 84th day of being a non-user of porn. I will change what ‘I am my father’s son’ means for my son if he ever has to say it.