After almost a week, I fell into fallacious thinking that if I’d “abuse myself” to porn I would 1.) feel better and 2.) go to sleep quicker. Now I am trying to avoid an emotional spinout, and most importantly not derail my sobriety from cigarettes to justify the immense shame I’m already feeling.
I have reset my porn timer and going about my day semi-as-usual. Normally I would be going on my morning rosary walk right now. Instead I’m sitting on my front porch and decided to come here first. I know that this community in many ways isn’t real; real in the sense that I don’t have the privilege of seeing anyone in person. But, I still allow myself the comfort in believing that you’re all real and in a similar storm.
I dislike when people say we’re in the same boat. No. I very much disagree. I live in a State that is actively engaging war against the poor, children, the homeless, women, the mentally ill, and other marginalized communities. I am under a mountain of medical debt, currently being sued for a car that I voluntarily surrendered, don’t have food but told that my disability check means I make “too much” for SNAP, am cooking rice to feed our dogs and praying to God that we can make it one more day before our check comes.
No, we aren’t in the same boat… Some people have yachts, others sail boats, and others planks. But, we are however in the same storm.
And, I take solace that I’m not alone in this storm. So I am coming here to find strength in a community that knows how it feels to hold on white-knuckled, to squint their eyes until it hurts and wait for peace to come back. I’m counting my blessings. Although I’m currently in a shit position, I could have it worse. I’m trying to remind myself that there are those who are wishing for a little bit of rice… Or even a porch to sit on. I’m trying to remind myself that I have more than some and that I need to be more grateful.
I might not have everything that I want, but I have everything I need; and all glory goes to God!
I need to remember that I worship a God that not only walks on stormy waters, but also calms the seas.
I worship a God of miracles.
That what I’m feeling now won’t also be, that this will pass.
And, since I don’t have friends in “real life” that I can turn to, I’ve come here to pretend like I have some to help me remember my core values and beliefs.
I’ve rambled on too long.
I just wanted to use this as a Touchstone.
Thank you for reading, for “being” there and “listening”.
Sounds like you’re feeling a lot of disillusionment and pain. I’m sorry - I know it’s hard.
Do you have any pictures of your dog? You should share them on the pet thread:
Sorry to hear about your relapse on porn. The lust addiction is insidious.
This was my favorite part
I’m finding that I really want a cigarette, porn, or both. Being that I don’t truly want them, I’m wondering what has led me here again.
I’m feeling tired, stressed, and overwhelmed.
Being that it’s hot outside, I had the misfortune of seeing men that are much better looking than me displayed in all their glory—even if it was just to wipe the sweat from their brows with their shirts.
I hate that I cannot see men the way that God created them, as beloved children of the Father. Each unique and possessing a dignity and worth that far surpasses mere flesh and bones.
I hate how predatory that makes me.
What is worse is that because I’m married, I’d never actually commit to “the hunt”.
The more I try to banish wayward thoughts, the more I am plagued with them.
So I am making a plan for bedtime.
No phone in my room.
I will steady myself with a chaplet in hand, and hope that I can pray myself to sleep.
Mornings are stressful. I must commit to not smoke.
Nights are stressful. I must commit to not abuse myself to porn.
Days are stressful because I must commit to staying present…not to dissociate from life’s messes.
So far I have been “good”. I’m here so that I remain so…
It won’t always be like this; it won’t always feel like this—I hope. 
I know it’s hard. There’s a deep pain that comes up when we objectify - or at least if I’m hearing you right, that’s what’s happening - and I find that I have felt and sometimes still feel that pain when I grapple with my addiction-thinking, which almost universally involves objectifying myself or others.
It’s dehumanizing and I’m at that level it provokes revulsion in us. We recognize the inhumanity in it.
I personally think that recognition itself is a very human thing. It is a learning process. The point is to lean into the weakness and use it as a fulcrum for growth and release, for surrendering the fixation in that moment, just for that moment; to find the freedom in surrender.
I know it’s hard. Don’t give up. Remember the pain is the point. It’s not the only point but it is one of them. It is the fire that purifies the gold 
I find strength and solace in your wisdom. Thank you, so very much.
Thomas Merton, after spending a considerable amount of time as a hermit in his cloister, once remarked on a trip to the bank that everyone shone like the Sun. I strive to get to that point, not to see an object, but to see what God sees in us.
Last night, after I posted, became rough. I was flooded with memories and fears. As I battled my way to bed, I picked up my rosary. Then with firm intention, I set it down and grabbed my phone. After the dead was done, I prayed that God would heal me. To my great shame, I picked up my phone again. Once more, I cried to God to not only forgive me but to also heal me. I laid in the darkness unable to find rest. So, I clung to my other idol: food. I got out of bed and made a pizza, snacked on some cookies while I waited, and debated on whether I should color or journal. I chose to journal.
I often advocate that “healing hurts” and “healing is uncomfortable”, yet all too often I find myself forgetting that for myself. As I poured out my anxieties and sins, I was gifted a painful revelation. It’s now mine to do with as I wish. Surrender it to God and allow Him to continue to heal my immense brokenness, or bury it away. Although it does not feel good, I am surrendering it to God.
I marvel at His patience with me, and pray He continues to be so. I think about how I have been allowed to live and work out my salvation, while others die in moments of weakness or foolishness. I am so very grateful that, for reasons unknown to me, He is allowing me more life—more breathe to breath. I think about how silly this all is in the grand scheme of things. The world is burning and here I am worried about things that won’t matter later, yet they matter to me now and God promises they matter to Him, too (1 Peter 5:7).
It is truly remarkable that I, who once laughed and danced in my total rejection of Him, could still be loved beyond all imagination by Him. I am swinging through all sorts of thoughts and feelings as I learn to live with not only cigarettes but my other vices. Yet, one thing remains steadfast: His love for me transcends how I think or feel in any particular moment. And, so I try to be worthy of such a love. In myself, I won’t ever be.
So, He has granted me a new day; and with it new opportunities to do better. I pray I do not take advantage of such gifts.
A speaker I was listening to over the weekend shared this insight in their talk: “metaphor is the language of the soul”. (I assume that’s also true of simile 
)
The interesting thing about “everyone shines like the Sun” is the ‘like the Sun’. Everyone is not the Sun but everyone is like the Sun.
It’s like an artist doing realist paintings. The objective is to be faithful to the original, but it’s never possible to be the original; there is only one original. (For example, there is only one Mount Everest. I could paint a phenomenal painting of it, to the point where people would say “that looks just like it” - like Mount Everest - but my painting would never be Mount Everest.)
It is amazing to me that God’s fingerprint is over all of creation. He is not some old man who created something good and is now sitting back, aloof, and watching it spoil. He creates anew, everyday, every moment. He is actively participating and shaping our lives in every moment. We can either participate with Him or reject it. But, apart from goodness there can only be illness.
It’s remarkable how language, which is living and ever changing, can identify metaphysical notions such as the soul.
We are like a mirror, we reflect that which is before us.
Mary is like the Moon, for she reflects the Sun’s (Son’s) light.
Sobriety is like climbing a mountain.
I am very much logophile, I believe words—language—are more than just noise. They are like a sword that can cut down, or like a crane that can raise up.
I am finding my desire to smoke lessening during times of stress, and more when I’m feeling nostalgic. I was having a Stevie Nicks/Fleetwood Mac jam session this morning while I worked on financial stuff. I haven’t listened to her in a long time… Well, long for me. (Anyone who ever knew me in the 2000’s-2010’s can attest to my unhealthy OBSESSION with her! 
)
But, the first note of the first chord immediately took me back to so many memories. An amalgam of blessed and cursed ones. I always had a cigarette, more specifically a Newport 100. I wanted one again. But as I raced through the yeses and nos of going out and buying “just one pack”, I knew I can’t have just one. Moreover, what I wanted was to be young, careless, and driving to anywhere while I listened to her. No cigarette now can give me that, and to recreate it would just leave me unsatisfied. So, after a few songs, I let myself just enjoy those beautiful, wonderful, bittersweet memories. And I realized what a gift it was to have lived them, but also to not break and smoke!
Strange things tempt me to smoke. Things that seem left field. I didn’t expect Stevie Nicks’ music to do that.
Yesterday I didn’t even want one. But the day before, I wanted one because as my olfactory nerves heal I am able to smell many more unpleasant things—things that are triggering for me. And I don’t mean just upsetting, I mean they trigger flashbacks. It takes me a moment to reorient myself to the present. But, I do and have and will—without cigarettes.
I am also tasting things better; and, 90% of what I consume tastes like utter garbage. I’d rather not eat! Quitting smoking is having a domino effect on my health, because now I’m being more cognizant of what I consume and why. Am I emotionally eating or am I replenishing my body with fuel? What a journey, indeed.
For some reason, perhaps it’s the Holiday, I am feeling very emotional—very nostalgic.
Now, let me preface this with I have had a remarkably beautiful day so far and in a positive headspace.
I’m remembering my dead today, which is piggybacking on my emotional trip yesterday. There is something comforting about listening to the music, and watching movies and television from our youth. I heard Ace of Base “Don’t Turn Around” and my heart immediately broke into a hundred pieces. I had a friend who took his life sometime ago who adored Ace of Base as much as I adored Stevie Nicks. Random sidenote: he also really loved Peter Gabriel. I haven’t been reconciled to his passing. I feel enormously guilty and cannot convince myself that I didn’t have anything to do with it. I poured my heart out and confessed everything to his ex-wife, who assured me most emphatically I had nothing to do with it. I am still not convinced. So, I let myself enjoy the song as much as I could. Remembered him fondly, albeit missing him more. I think a lot of the guilt stems from I wasn’t a very good friend to him in life. I was selfish and self-serving. And, now there are days—weeks!—where I don’t think of him. Then I think how much I haven’t changed even in his death…how bad of a friend I am even now.
But I am letting myself feel these things. I won’t numb them away with cigarettes, food, or porn. It’s okay to feel.
Then I’m thinking about my dad who died by suicide. About what he’d be doing if he were still alive. Holidays meant family, and family gatherings were always a trip! The dad of my childhood, the sober-dad, was so much fun. So, I’m remembering that dad. We’d go to a crappy little lake every Fourth of July. My parents and sisters. Sometimes we’d have a bunch of extended relatives…other times it was just us. But it was the absolute best time! I didn’t care about germs or food poisoning, gossip or money, I didn’t care about time or schedules. I was wholly in the moment, enjoying the day as it went on.
I don’t want to be a kid again. That would make me 50 shades of pathetic.
I am just missing those days when my family was whole—or at least I thought it was. So, instead of pushing it all away with my addictions I am going to let myself feel all of the warm, happy moments and the bitter sadness, too. I’m going to honor it all with a grateful heart. I’ve had a blessed life, and I pray I have much more left. 
And for anyone who feels alone, or overwhelmed, or hopeless — please, PLEASE know that you are loved, important, and enough! Even the smallest star shines brightly in the darkest of nights, and the smallest pebble can create great ripples in still water.
I’m still cigarette- and porn-free, however I have eaten more than I should’ve today.
I’m feeling good, hopeful. I am going to write out a menu for this week so that I don’t have to constantly think about food. I’m a sucker for lists, and stick to them. Eat this at this time. In fact, I like that for many areas of my life. Except I like to pretend it’s all organic and fluid, lest my obstinate side rule me.
I’m not looking forward to weighing myself in the morning, albeit I’m sort of prepared for the worst.
I must review my mistakes—no, already off on the wrong food—I will review my decisions non-judgementally, realign them to my values and goals, and move on. 
Glad to hear you’re feeling constructive the last couple of days. It’s a nice space to start from
There’s a thread for people trying to overcome binge eating here - it’s worth taking a look; maybe there are some posts there that might resonate with you and your journey:
Thank you so much! You’re always so helpful in your recommendations.
To my chagrin, I have found myself discounting the time I’ve been sober.
25 days.
There’ve been years when I couldn’t make it a full day, let alone a full hour! So to think “meh, that’s nothing” is really shocking to me.
I had to scold myself that 25 years have 25 days as their foundation.
So, I’ve eaten more than I wanted…
Maybe it’s not as much as I think. I’m going to download a calorie counter to see. I tend to live in extremes, and swinging from binging to anorexia isn’t healthy either.
1 step at a time, 1 thing at a time.
I will celebrate every moment that I can get through without smoking, without being enslaved to my killer.
Last night I was wrestling with an ancient fallacious belief: Imposter syndrome.
I thought how little I belong here. How silly it must be to those who’ve conquered bigger, more dangerous demons. I began to feel like I was trying to wedge myself somewhere I was neither wanted nor deserved.
But I had to remind myself of what the definition of an addiction is, and how invalidating and unfair it is for a competition to be made among recovering addicts. Someone who has an addiction to sugar has every right to sit amongst those with alcohol or drug addictions. Does it not all become chemical in the end? Even porn, shopping, or Internet usage are all valid addictions, because not only does it involve a chemical response in the brain; we can become enslaved to them.
So, I had to remind myself that even if I must talk to myself and scroll through such empowering testimonies alone—I still belong here, no outside validation is needed.
I suppose that’s the root of my thinking “25 days isn’t much”.
But it is a lot.
And I’m proud of myself and am humbled by such graces given to me by God.
I just got a job today, which is much needed (especially since I cannot afford to move on my disability check alone). However, I’m so worried.
My disability is for mental health, and sometimes I get manic and feel like I don’t need it anymore, work way too hard and then crash and burn, and remember why I needed to get on it in the first place.
I am going through my learned boundaries. Saying them over and over again to make this job much more enjoyable and healthy. However, I’m so worried about the smoking.
I’ll be doing housekeeping at a hotel.
(I really love hospitality and cleaning, so I’m excited about this job).
But I’ve done housekeeping and janitorial work before, and one thing is for certain — the well earned cigarette breaks and comaraderie.
I’m too early in my sobriety to be able to go out with coworkers and just hang out. It’s too soon.
And I’m so worried…
I need to find the confidence in myself that I am not milquetoast. That I can and will say no because I don’t want to be a smoker anymore, and I like this version of myself better.
Came across your thread and I can’t remember reading anything so profound on here for long time. Thank you for your honesty.
Firstly, you belong here. I know that statistically, sex addicts are a minority here, but nevertheless, still a part of the tribe. YOU BELONG.
Secondly, just a word of encouragement. It gets more manageable over time. I remember that when I first started my recovery, the urges came in crashing like waves into a shore during a storm. Constant, relentless and exhausting. I’m now 5 years in, and they’re like the tide. They come but less frequently and violently. I still need to keep my eye out because they’re more subtle now. Sneaky bastards.
I have noticed that my thinking has changed too. There has been an unnoticeable shift. I can let go off unhealthy sexual thoughts easier. I recognise other people’s value. I still need to be mindful and super honest to myself and to God. Self deception is a gateway to a downfall.
I was single when I started my recovery and got married a few years in. It was difficult to be present with my husband but now only he gives me titillations. I’m so grateful to have reached this point.
You are not alone. Stay honest and connected. Accept that recovery is not linear. You have given up an activity that used to consume a massive chunk of your life and daily things, so it’s important to FILL that time with something better.
Memories can be overwhelming but they won’t destroy you. You’ve survived them once already.
25 days is a lifetime when you’re on a battlefield, kicking ass and surviving.
Thank you so much for the kindness, the time, and the heart it took to respond to my thread. You have no idea how much it’s helped, especially since I’ve had a long day and dogtired—really wanting a cigarette. But instead I’m watching The Birdcage with my wife (for the 1000th time and it never gets old!).
After working as a hotel housekeeper, I have resolved to always tip regardless of expectations. When you clean up other people’s shit, it’s common to get paid like shit. The young woman who trained me is a single mother of 3, living in a slum house, who is doing her absolute best to not only take care of them but working damn hard making sure all of their lives are blessed. I asked her what was the most she was tipped. Out of hundreds of rooms, she said “$10 in one, and $5 in another. That isn’t common though; but I was happy because it bought me something to eat.”
It’s easy to look at our rooms and think “standards are slipping”; but after hundreds of rooms within only a couple of hours, we’re tired and stressed. Please forgive us!
It was so hard not to smoke. I went to the gas station to use the restroom on my lunch break. I bought some vitamin water and a regular water. It was strange not also purchasing a pack of cigarettes.
I probably looked sketchy. Sweaty, slightly disoriented and disheveled, and eyes farting here and there to avoid looking at the rack of temptation behind the cashier.
As I walked out to my car, I self-talked. It’s okay, it’s okay to walk out without cigarettes Then I thought Nonsmokers do this all the time! You’ve done this before, get in the car and drive away
At the end of my shift I could count dozens of times I wanted one, and they would have been well earned.
Then I thought fantasy is a dangerous path that leads away from sobriety.
They will taste like shit and make me feel even worse.
What do I actually need to comfort myself? A shower, a cold water, and perhaps an ibuprofen.
I had to reset my porn timer though. I watched another episode of The Chosen. What a remarkably beautiful show. I, who hardly ever cry, find myself bawling. My wife who has seen it before will say “I won’t tell you what happens in this episode” and I’ll jokingly say “it’s okay, I’ve read the book.”
But, how I feel like I’m sinking in the stormy waters of my sin and vices. I must keep my eyes on Jesus. I, too, reach out and cry “don’t let me go” because I can’t do it on my own. I’m too broken, too human to do it on my own.
28 days without a cigarette.
28 days of planting flowers at the feet of Jesus, for every time I say no to them I plant another one for Him. And I pray that when it’s my time to go before the Judgement Throne, I’ll have to walk through a garden first.
I quit.
The circumstances should involve a complaint with the department of labor, but I have enough going on already.
I wanted a cigarette so badly.
I am almost to 30 days without a cigarette.
Today was the closest I’ve been to breaking down and buying a pack.
I thought, what do I really want?
A break.
Why do I have to have a cigarette to have a break? Why can’t I just take a break without one.
(Apparently I couldn’t.)
So, then I thought I’m exhausted and tired and hungry. Maybe I could take a lunch.
As I tried to heat up my food, the breaker blew and my food was still cold. No one was around to help me find the fuse. Where were they? Smoking!
I grabbed my cold food and left.
A minimum wage job where we don’t have supplies, rooms have bedbugs, and I have to clean without gloves isn’t worthy sobriety.
Bye Felicia!
But now I’m still tired, albeit lying down, and feel hungover from the whole ordeal.
My remedy was porn… Since I couldn’t sleep.
But now I can’t sleep because I feel so badly I had to reset my timer.
Oh Lord in Heaven, heal my broken mind!