Getting back on track 

My assignment from the therapist this week is to write about my “plan” or to write about not having a plan.
I’ve been in a slow downward spiral with intermittent moments/days of abstinence for weeks now. I cannot seem to get any traction. Its mostly inappropriate chat, video/pic exchange and mastrbtion. I do not know these people, and I do not know where they are from. 
My phone is locked down so that I do not have access to “adult content,” but I’ve figured out a way around it to chat with these people. Not only did I figure out a way around it, I cannot figure out how to block it. I have moments of deleting applications on my phone, only to download them again days later. So, do I want a plan? Do I want to stop?
Its incredible at how I can justify what I’m doing as harmless. My top reasons for wanting to continue are as follows: I’ve already started, why stop now? It is harmless because I do not know where these people are and i’ll never meet them. I can stop anytime I want, maybe tomorrow.
The reasons why I know I should try to stop the behavior are many. I know I will do this for awhile, but I know it will escalate. Also, I finally had reached a place where I could have a normal physical response without violence associated with it- since this latest “relapse” there is no normal response. Violence, through words or videos is necessary. Its not normal to have inappropriate conversations all day long with strangers. Most of these strangers actually make me feel terrible about myself. I’ve tried to not engage the past day or two, and I have a plethora of messages come through that make me feel like a terrible person for not engaging. I let strangers guilt trip me into “playing” because I already started the game. I should just delete the app- but part of me wants to stay connected. A big part of me wants to stay connected. 
If I chose to not have a plan, I will continue down this path. I currently feel out of control in all aspects of my life and have been engaging in some risky behavior in addition to what I’ve been talking about on here. I know that will only get worse, and I’m likely going to start seeking out partners rather than just engaging in the chatter. That’s what I do. So here is my plan:
I need to find a way to permanently delete these applications, even if that means I end up blocking others that are harmless in the process. 
I need to remember the things that I can do instead, that are healthy, like:



Talk to a friend



Play with the pup



(I will take suggestions if you have any thoughts)
I also need to start doing things that overall make me a healthier person- not just waiting to pick up the pieces after everything falls apart. I need to do the things that will get me to the place I want to be. Some things that I would like to implement everyday (some of these I do, but need to keep doing)…
Take my meds

Go for a walk in the morning with the dog

eat a healthy breakfast

meditate for at least 5 minutes

keep a daily journal

Makeup/hair (it helps)
Every week…
At least 3 days of 30min + exercise

one day of yoga


Meal plan/prep for the upcoming week


Every month…

I do some of these, some of the time. They’re all things that have proven to be helpful to my life. When I stop doing them consistently I make more room for the things that I’d like to give up. I’d like to get back on track with trying to be the happier/healthier version of myself. 
I want to be physically healthy. I want to lose weight, and be in shape. I want to quit smoking. I want to be emotionally healthy. I want to have meaningful relationships that are fulfilling. Not relationships that make me feel worse about myself and my choices.


Feminist secsuality

I read an article today about how rapefantasies and bdsm are being promoted by feminists as secsual freedom. I’m a feminist. I am a woman. I believe in secsual freedom. I’ve subscribed to the belief that those against any fantasy or fetish that women have are suppressing a woman’s secsual  freedom. Rapefantasy, bdsm, humiliation, age play, etc all fell into this.  Why shouldn’t women be permitted  permitted to engage and enjoy the same level of k1nk as men.

To some degree I still agree with this.  If swinging from ceiling fans is your cup of tea, by all means, drink up.  But, why do we have these fantasies, and what type of people have them.  I can only speak from my experiences.  I’d love feedback on what others think.

I have been known to be fairly explicit about my own disdain for vanilla flavored activities. My own participation in bdsm and rapefantasy were self justified by this neo-feminist idea that secsuality should be enjoyed and women should not inhibit themselves by subscribing to a 1950s view of secs as pleasurable only for their partner.

We have fantasies too, and why not act them out.  If the fantasy is between two consenting (maybe more) adults, have fun!

I still believe the above statement to be true. However, why and how do women come to fantasize about a man forcing himself on her, or being spanked, beaten, or treated like a child.  I know some men have these fantasies too- but in my experience, more women are on the receiving end of the abuse.  This is true of my observation of p0rn and of my conversations with women in general.

My biggest fantasy was a stranger torape me.  Of course I didn’t really want to be raped. I just wanted to act it out. I’ve engaged in this as well as many other taboo type fantasies.  The more I justified it to myself and others the more normal and progressive it felt.

I was asked recently (the past year or so) what type of men engaged in these fantasies. I brushed it off at first, but I never could quite let it rest. What type of men fantasize aboutraping, using, humiliating and abusing others.  Not just men, even.  I cannot imagine ever hurting someone else, though I readily subjected myself to it.  I’m not talking about a little light spanking.  My fantasy grew from that to wanting men to really hurt me, leave marks, really humiliating things.  Those things, I’d never do to someone else.  Thinking about what type of person would want to hurt and humiliate for their own sexual gratification really disturbed me.

If I am so disturbed that others’ want to humiliate and hurt others just to satisfy their desire, why was I not equally disturbed that I wanted to be the subject of that abuse? The more I think about the issue the more I realize that both can be destructive.

I say can be because I don’t want to lump all people or situations into one experience.  What I was doing WAS destructive. The content I watched online became more violent and my actions were in line with what I watched.  I do believe pornography can desensitize us and give us a false idea of what secs should be.  I think watching can contribute to the objectification of women.  In my case, I objectified myself.  The women I watched were used/abused and that is how I’ve permitted men to treat me.

Not all of my past partners were bad or objectified women.  A big part of the problem was me- I only knew and was comfortable with a very non intimate pornstartypesex. This actually caused problems in relationships because I was emotionally void.  But give me a stranger or acquaintance where feelings were not expected, and I was a rockstar.

For years I continued on until it smacked me in the face.  I will never have a real relationship if I continue down this path. I will never know real intimacy.

So begins the work in therapy.  If you want something different you have to try something different. So, no activity that inhibits my ability to become really intimate.

But how the hell did I get here? I was abused as a kid, and I hate that I had pleasurable responses to that. There’s so much shame and guilt built into secs for me that the only way I feel comfortable is under the guise that I have no choice.  Hence the rape fantasy.  I feel guilty if I’m initiating/participating/seeking out secs.  But if I have no choice, those feelings of guilt and shame are not as prominent.

Some of this I do think is directly related to my experience and abuse, but society drills in the same concept.  Women who sleep with too many men are sluts, too secsual is a bad thing.  Women are objects.  Men have more power. Society builds in guilt and shame around a woman’s secsual.

In theory, I would support the p0rn industry.  But. Only. In. Theory. If men and women equally had choice in participation and it did not perpetuate human trafficking and women were not the source of objectification and a thousand other things I could list, then yes, use your body for whatever you like.  That is not the case.

Just google free p0rn.  Okay, don’t, but speaking as a compulsive p0rn watcher in recovery, I know what I’m talking about.  What you see isn’t mutually loving, respectful, or realistic.  The majority of videos you will see a power play, and the man has the power. This is what our boys and girls are learning.

My own experience combined with guilt and shame and constant objectification of women in society brought me to a dark place.  If the only way I could feel okay about my secsuality was by allowing others to objectify or abuse me, I wasn’t really comfortable at all.  And if my fantasy was growing in that I wanted to be abused in new harder ways, my partners’ fantasies were likely growing too.  I’m not sure that’s good for any of us.

I am ashamed of much of what I’ve done, but it’s taken me years to admit that.  The neo feminist movement of women accepting any of their fantasies and embracing them really helped me justify what I was doing.  And in the justification I took place in demeaning other women. They were prudes. They would never satisfy their partners. They didn’t know fun.

They knew love and commitment and intimacy though.  These are things I wanted in a relationship but not in secs.  The two are not mutually exclusive. By being so progressive I my secsual freedom I never fully understood the connection secs could bring.  I still don’t. I’m working on it every day.

P0rn0graphy, Secs, addiction and all that jazz

Hi I’m Elizabeth, and I’m a secs addict. My sobriety date is December 1,2016 (yep, coming off a recent relapse). 

I realized after publishing this that the content is blocked on my computer, so any time you see P, it is referring to P0rn. And secs is self explanatory. 

I’ve not found many women with whom I can relate on this issue. I’m sure you are out there- I would love to connect for support.  I spent months going to SA or SAA which is predominately men.  Most of the women who attend are in recovery from secs and love addiction- I don’t want to minimize what they have gone through, it’s just different than my experience. 

I don’t have secs or seek relationships for love or affection.  I seek secs as an escape. I have no emotional connection or intimacy when it comes to physical relationships.  That part of me shuts down when anything physical takes place.

My story, like many others I’ve heard, starts when I was a child. For as long as I can remember I’ve had a preoccupation with secs. I have had secsual trauma as a young child, and it’s unclear to me whether this fascination with secs started before or after.  Of course I had physical responses to what was happening, and those responses were often pleasurable. I’ve struggled (still do) for years about”liking it” or my own perceived participation.  As a child I would have physical responses to secsual content on television, which was embarrassing (even though no one knew) and further peaked my curiousity. By this time mstrbtion was an integral part of my daily routine, though I didn’t really understand how it worked exactly.  

I sought out anything secsual  I could find on tv- even going so far as hacking the 1990’s version of content restrictions on my television in my room to watch rated R movies.  

When the internet became available It was probably one of the single worst things to happen. P was readily available and worse than that was the ability to chat with others I didn’t know.  Like any other adolescent I knew more than my parents did about the computer, so erasing the evidence was easy. 

I would log onto chat rooms, lying about my age of course. I had a particular fondness for a will smith chat room- the freaks hang out anywhere I guess.  I thought saying I was a 15/f should be old enough. I had sexually explicit conversations with what I thought were boys near my age.  In reality, they were likely creepy old men also lying about their age.  I remember telling these guys that I wanted to wrap all 88″ of my legs around them- a quote I had tweaked from watching pretty woman. It didn’t take me long to develop more content as everything I knew about secs came from abuse, tv, and P. Secsual conversation was/is second nature and men do respond to that pornstartypesex talk. 

I had so many issues with being secsual in person because I felt guilty about seeking secs out, and about being physically touched.  I remember being on a date in high school; we made out (kissing mostly) on the beach- typical for kids in my hometown. Driving home he put his hand on my thigh slowly moving up my leg and then  asked if he could go further. The only problem I had was his asking, because giving permission was a novel idea. The only real physical interaction I had so far involved someone else just doing- there was no asking.  The asking permission is what made me uncomfortable. 

I never had a boyfriend through high school, but had various friends with benefits. This was mostly the scenario in college, though most of the benefits stopped short of actual secs.  What I preferred was what I found online whether it was in videos or chat.  I think I had more knowledge about secs just via virtual experience then someone my age should.

The P and chatting continued even after I started having sex.  The problem was that “normal” P no longer did the trick.  What I was watching turned to S&M.  A guy I slept with in my early 20’s was my first real intro to this.  He was a shrink (don’t worry, not mine).  He was also married, which was something I never thought I’d do, but it was one of the first of many boundaries that I let fly out the window.  

The secs was intense and he definitely dominated.  At one point he looks at me, mid session, and says “this isn’t going to work for you if I’m not holding you down, is it?” 

I woke up the next day with bruises down my arms, my wrists had obvious ligature marks, and my neck had bruises from his fingers. This, is what I needed. He called me the next day to say how close he felt after what we experienced. I stopped talking to him because of that statement. 

Most every secsual encounter I’ve sought out since has been either similar to that or someone who was using or degrading me.  That is what I knew best, and that is what I had to watch or do to keep from feeling uncomfortable. 

After years of this, and avoiding anything intimate, the P I had to watch became more and more violent.  I remember watching one video in particular that I felt literally disgusted with myself, but I couldn’t stop watching.  

Anytime anything bad or stressful happened, or if my insomnia was bad, I’d watch P and masturbate. Or chat and mstrbate. Sometimes so much that I wouldn’t leave my house. Sometimes an effort to make myself tired would result in me staying up all night, defeating the purpose all together. I couldn’t mstrbate without violent content.

The cycle was vicious because I was doing this to alleviate some bad feeling, but ended up feeling bad about what I was doing.

I’ve had my number of affairs, one night stands or strippers, all of which I find embarrassing now.  However I realized how big the problem was when I started meeting men for anonymous secs.  Men I found online, including CL. 

I was put in a situation that could have affected my job, one where I’m not entirely sure what happened, I’ve done things I never wanted to do, and I’ve had a man hit me so hard in the head that I lost hearing for a few moments.  And I kept doing it.  This was the lowest I’ve ever been.  And. I. Could. Not. Stop.

It took multiple internet encounters that made me realize how much of a problem this is.  It took me multiple therapy sessions to realize that the problem started over 20 years ago. 

The therapist suggested talking to my psychiatrist about medication for OCD (apparently this is tied to that). The meds helped control some of the obsessive thoughts, which makes it easier to not act on the compulsions.  She also suggested inpatient rehab…. which I think I’d do anything to avoid. 

I did make a commitment to try to work on this. I know that I want an intimate relationship and I’ll never have that by doing what I’ve done. I also know that I could end up dead or hurt by acting out the way I have.  

In the beginning I’d have a few days to a week of abstinence from P, chatting or partners.  Typically I’d relapse with P then spiral down again.  I tried the SA/SAA groups.  And I cannot get past step 2- the whole higher power thing sort of gets in the way. Being atheist isn’t easy in the program for me.  There is a lot of valuable things to be taken from the program though.  And the accountability from some people I met as well as my therapist was helpful. 

I was able to hear others’  struggles and not feel completely alone. I am more able to identify when I’m likely to want to act out and I’m more able to reach out for help.  I’ve taken some precautions to keep myself from having access to adult content, like having my phone password protected with a password I do not know.

I do feel better about what I’m trying to do, but its hard.  I feel stupid a lot because it seems like this should be easy, but it’s not.  

After almost 6 months of abstinence I recently fouled up. I found myself with a new phone and no password protection.  I’ve stopped taking my meds (I need to start again, seriously), I’ve been under a lot of stress, and generally have just been feeling bad about me. I’m sure this all contributed. The good thing, I only relapsed with online material.  

I really struggled with not taking it further- in the middle of the relapse my thought process was mostly “I’ve already fucked up, why not make it worth it and go all out.” I didn’t do that.  I’m mostly glad about that now. Mostly.

The things I keep trying to remember is how shitty I felt when I was at my worst, and all the scary dangerous things that happened or could have.  Also, the fact that it took months to be able to mstrbate in a non compulsive way and without violence. And most importantly, that if I want something intimate, emotionally and physically, I need to stop the behavior. Plus it overall makes me hate myself. 

So, here I am, 4 days abstinent. And I’ll take it one day at a time.

Family dysfunction at its finest…

My 26 year old sister is snoring on the couch, despite the constant requests for her to sleep in her room.  At least she’s sleeping because I cannot adequately express the disdain I have for her when she is awake.  During one of the pointless attempts at getting her to go upstairs, our mother asked her if she would clean the bathroom or at least get her dirty underwear out.  My mom pointed out that she wasn’t the only one who uses the bathroom and my sister quickly retorts “I don’t care about that Bitch.”  I’m that bitch. I’m that bitch who cleans the motherfuckingnasty bathroom because she is too lazy to. I’m that bitch who is never home because I work 50-60 hrs a week with an hour commute each way.  I’m that Bitch who flew across country to move her back home when she needed help.  I’m that bitch who gave her money when she needed it.  I’m that bitch who she threatened to “fuck up” my “nasty face” last week.  

I’m not perfect and I do not pretend to be.  This week has been hard, and I probably have been a bitch.  I have to remember she’s a Borderline and an untreated one at that. But I have my own shit going on.

My friend is dying. In the scheme of things this is most important.  I was able to see her while she was awake and alert. She is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever had the privlidge of knowing. I’ve had the daunting responsibility of informing others of the situation.  I get taxed with this because I’m the non-cryer- the one who can give the information without breaking down. Except this time I’ve not been so great.  I do well when I have to, but I’ve broken down more than once over this.  

Before all of this I had stopped taking my medication.  I like how I feel when I’m off of the meds, until it just becomes to much and I can’t stop the crazy obsessive thoughts.  I know I need to go back on them but I’m having a hard time starting.   I’m sure this has added to my familys not so new description of me- that bitch. The therapist would not be happy if she knew about the med situation… and I’m sure it contributes to my last “relapse.” I’ll write on that later.

I guess I’ll get back on topic- my dysfunctional family.  My sister is still sleeping on the couch, I’m here writing, and my mother is baking a cake so she can later tell us we are fat and shouldn’t eat it.  Okay. So she won’t say I’m fat, she just says little comments about how none of us “need it.” She’s the queen of passive aggressive under handed comments that make you feel like shit.  It doesn’t really matter how old I am, I can’t seem to not let her affect me.  

I read an article on parental verbal abuse earlier (posted on twitter) and some of it hit home.  I know on some level my mother loves me, but not a day goes by that she doesn’t say to or in front of me “never have children, it’s not worth it. If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t.” Even as an adult this is hard to digest.  Thanks mom, for not wanting me. 

I can’t say the dysfunction starts with my mom; she has had her fair share passed on to her.  That’s her story to tell, though she doesn’t recognize it as dysfunction.  I only have recognized it as such after years of therapy. 

My sister, the non borderline, somewhat normal of the four siblings (I have a brother too), and I sat up last night talking about how crazy making our family is.  It started when I told the sis that our mom seemed wholly uninterested and unsupportive when I’ve tried to speak with her about my dying friend.  Apparently she cares because she has mentioned it to my sisters, but she certainly shows no support or even asks how my friend is holding up. 

I’ve never felt completely supported.  Everything must subtlety revolve around my mother.  And if we express any kind of hurt from any action she takes, we are being sensitive and certainly pay the price.  She wants each of our loyalty and has set up a dynamic such that we all will sell the other down the river to gain favour with her.  It’s easier being on her side than against her.  I’ve never felt more convicted than when my mother is not happy with me.  If I try to speak with her about it she will ask me “how’s the weather today? It feels nice out here.”  That’s her way of telling me I’m too sensitive and she doesn’t feel comfortable having real conversation with me.  Real conversation would mean she would have to admit to some feeling or emotion that she refuses to acknowledge.  How do I know for certain this is what she’s doing? Well…

The somewhat normal sister, after a therapy session, tells our mother “it makes me feel bad when you say xyz to me.”  The response was in classic mother form- “ok.”  Then she went to bed. And called me.

“Can you believe she said that? It makes her feeeeeel bad. I can just hear the therapist telling her to tell me how she feeeeeels.” Of course I laugh because at the moment I’m not the one who is the target.  I do sort of agree that my sister is a little sensitive- but our mothers reaction was juvenile.  For a month it was the running joke with my mother “maybe I shouldn’t say that to you, you know it makes X feeeeel bad.” 

I’m no PhD, but I’m pretty sure my inability/difficulty to identify and acknowledge feelings has something to do with my mother.  

I’ve spent years trying to just figure out how I feel. And years trying to realize it’s okay to have emotions.  And I’m trying desperately to not fall back into old juvenile behaviors now that I’ve moved back into the madness.

All My Gods Are Dead

All my gods are dead.  Or perhaps they never lived.  But, in a post trump election, I’m convinced there is no higher intelligence who is watching over us.  If I’m wrong, I suspect it would be some evil puppeteer sneering and laughing with each string pull.  I prefer to think they’re all dead.

Most will read this and think I have the most depressing outlook on life.  Sometimes that can be accurate, but not because I do not believe in god.  I refuse to acknowledge some fantastical fairy-tale type being; the absence of such belief is where I find optimism.  The absence of god in my life has allowed me to have a greater appreciation for what’s within my own control as well as what is not.  I can take credit for my accomplishments (egotistical? Maybe.) but I take responsibility for my failures too.  It permits me to live in the moment (when I permit myself) and not focus on my future rewards or punishments.  And I’m not constantly wondering why some magical mystical creature allows so much pain and suffering when they have the power to change it. Sometimes bad shit just happens.

I’m writing this blog mostly as a therapeutic experience for myself, and maybe someone else along the way will find some connection with it also. So, let me introduce myself…

I’m Elizabeth, a thirty-something female, somewhat successful, educated, complete fucking crazy person.  My therapist tells me I’m not crazy, but I’m fairly certain she  just doesn’t want to admit it.  If she could bill for “crazy” I’m sure that would be a more accepted term for her.

Im just trying to figure out life and how to live it to my fullest potential. I want to talk about my crazy dysfunctional family, which may be entertaining to some, mental health issues, addiction, and some everyday things that make you cringe and others that make it all worth it.



#mentalhealth #psychology #mentalillness #ocd #addiction #selfinjury #life #depression #anxiety 

Welcome to the madness