WoundedSparrow
Active Member
I haven't posted in while because I didn't need to. But I need to air some grievances. I just relapsed after almost 9 weeks of sobriety, the longest I've gone since I started. My motivation was and still is the fear of the abyss. Back in September, I went 2 weeks without porn. I had a very disturbing sexual dream and, rather than process it logically, I allowed the stress to lead me back to porn... Twice. The next morning, my anxiety skyrocketed to unbelievable levels. I could feel a mental breakdown coming like a freight train. It was going to be my third one in the six years I've been an addict. My last breakdown was in 2016 and it crippled me mentally and emotionally for months. I knew what would happen. I popped an anxiety pill and felt myself drown in an ocean of panic. I dropped on my knees and begged God to stop it with every ounce of my being. And then, where I should have felt my psyche shatter into a million pieces, the panic receded. The breakdown never came.
However, I knew I wouldn't escape Scott-free. The next several months were hellish. My mind wasn't broken, but it was cracked. I was slowly repairing the damage that had been done. Anxiety and extremely unwanted and disturbing thoughts plagued me day and night. I obsessed over them. It was as though I was living in another reality, one where every waking moment was torment. I was miserable. I carried an emergency pill with me to work just in case I needed it. Sometimes I did. And for the first time, thoughts crossed my mind that never had before: Thoughts of suicide. Now, I don't want to incite a panic. I never seriously contemplated suicide or attempted to harm myself, but the miserable hole I was in was so deep that I found myself thinking, "I know this pain is likely to end, but if for some reason it doesn't, I can honestly see myself committing suicide somewhere down the road."
It was the first time I saw my addiction threaten to turn lethal. To think I was seeing the possibility of suicide in my future was eye-opening. And relapses happened during this horrific time, each one a gamble with the abyss I knew I was close to. Any relapse could be the one that put me over the edge. And if that happened... I didn't want to think about it. I can't remember exactly how it happened, but I decided that enough was enough. I had to quit porn. Not as a matter of living better or even my mental health, but as a matter of pure survival. If I kept looking at porn, I'd keep getting worse. I could hardly imagine a worse point than where I was, but the lesson I've learned about porn addiction is that you can ALWAYS sink lower. Always. And if I sank lower than where I was already, I would put myself in a mental state that saw suicide as a legitimate way out. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I don't remember exactly how I approached sobriety, but I went for it. Days turned into weeks. Eventually, I was at two months sober just a few days ago. It wasn't about a mere "reboot" or a streak. It wasn't about everything I stood to gain, it was about everything I had to lose. Remember: There is no equilibrium with porn. You're either getting better or you're getting worse. But I just got worse. A few days ago, I had a wet dream. I've had several over the last few months. However, sometimes I forget that in the days that follow, I'm more susceptible to sexual suggestion. Today, my mind was racing with unwanted, disturbing thoughts, many of which were sexual. Tonight, I went to the gym. I haven't been to the gym in months, since before the holidays. My mental state caused me to avoid going places I didn't have to. But I went and I saw plenty of women that made the gears in my head turn. I got home and made my classic mistake of fiddling around in the Twitter search bar. Down the rabbit hole I went, fighting tooth and nail every step of the way. But in the end, porn won. I slipped back into my old ways and was defeated. Now hear I sit wondering what happens next.
I want to keep fighting but when I relapse once, I usually do it again shortly after. My mental resistance will be fractured. I know one relapse doesn't undo 60 days of progress, but I worry I'll be weak. That I'll lose sight of myself and what I have to do. Even as I typed out the fact that I thought about suicide, my brain told me how silly it was that I would think such a thing. But it wasn't silly. It was real. I can't forget everything I'm fighting for. My mental health has improved ten-fold in the last two months. I've avoided disaster. I just hope I can keep going. I never have before. Relapse after a clean streak always results in more. I just forget. I can't. I'm not asking for advice or moral support. I just needed to pour all of this out here for my own sake. And I'll ask you all to pray for me. If you don't pray, pray anyway. You never know who's listening and I need all the help I can get. That's all I have.
However, I knew I wouldn't escape Scott-free. The next several months were hellish. My mind wasn't broken, but it was cracked. I was slowly repairing the damage that had been done. Anxiety and extremely unwanted and disturbing thoughts plagued me day and night. I obsessed over them. It was as though I was living in another reality, one where every waking moment was torment. I was miserable. I carried an emergency pill with me to work just in case I needed it. Sometimes I did. And for the first time, thoughts crossed my mind that never had before: Thoughts of suicide. Now, I don't want to incite a panic. I never seriously contemplated suicide or attempted to harm myself, but the miserable hole I was in was so deep that I found myself thinking, "I know this pain is likely to end, but if for some reason it doesn't, I can honestly see myself committing suicide somewhere down the road."
It was the first time I saw my addiction threaten to turn lethal. To think I was seeing the possibility of suicide in my future was eye-opening. And relapses happened during this horrific time, each one a gamble with the abyss I knew I was close to. Any relapse could be the one that put me over the edge. And if that happened... I didn't want to think about it. I can't remember exactly how it happened, but I decided that enough was enough. I had to quit porn. Not as a matter of living better or even my mental health, but as a matter of pure survival. If I kept looking at porn, I'd keep getting worse. I could hardly imagine a worse point than where I was, but the lesson I've learned about porn addiction is that you can ALWAYS sink lower. Always. And if I sank lower than where I was already, I would put myself in a mental state that saw suicide as a legitimate way out. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I don't remember exactly how I approached sobriety, but I went for it. Days turned into weeks. Eventually, I was at two months sober just a few days ago. It wasn't about a mere "reboot" or a streak. It wasn't about everything I stood to gain, it was about everything I had to lose. Remember: There is no equilibrium with porn. You're either getting better or you're getting worse. But I just got worse. A few days ago, I had a wet dream. I've had several over the last few months. However, sometimes I forget that in the days that follow, I'm more susceptible to sexual suggestion. Today, my mind was racing with unwanted, disturbing thoughts, many of which were sexual. Tonight, I went to the gym. I haven't been to the gym in months, since before the holidays. My mental state caused me to avoid going places I didn't have to. But I went and I saw plenty of women that made the gears in my head turn. I got home and made my classic mistake of fiddling around in the Twitter search bar. Down the rabbit hole I went, fighting tooth and nail every step of the way. But in the end, porn won. I slipped back into my old ways and was defeated. Now hear I sit wondering what happens next.
I want to keep fighting but when I relapse once, I usually do it again shortly after. My mental resistance will be fractured. I know one relapse doesn't undo 60 days of progress, but I worry I'll be weak. That I'll lose sight of myself and what I have to do. Even as I typed out the fact that I thought about suicide, my brain told me how silly it was that I would think such a thing. But it wasn't silly. It was real. I can't forget everything I'm fighting for. My mental health has improved ten-fold in the last two months. I've avoided disaster. I just hope I can keep going. I never have before. Relapse after a clean streak always results in more. I just forget. I can't. I'm not asking for advice or moral support. I just needed to pour all of this out here for my own sake. And I'll ask you all to pray for me. If you don't pray, pray anyway. You never know who's listening and I need all the help I can get. That's all I have.