In this program I identify as a sexual anorexic, which means I deprive myself of love and sex, which may seem strange for a sex addict, but if you want to stay away from something you may have a problem with it. If the cake stares at you from the corner of the room, it's probably because you're afraid you'll lose all control when you finally come around to eating it. Obsessing over staying away from something is an obsession nonetheless, and how can someone stay away from sex and love? Sex is a drive and love is a need, and eventually you'll come around to both. Anorexics have to eat eventually, they do eat, but they starve themselves of food. Sexual anorexics starve themselves of affection because it's what we know. It's what we grew up with. We probably grew up in households that were starved of affection and so affection feels icky. Perhaps it's not more complicated than that. My addiction, however, took on more of a binge-purge pattern. I would binge for a couple days or a week, not more, and then purge for several days. The purge pattern always felt the best. I felt in control, proud of myself. I was productive. I rode these incredible highs. But that would all come crashing down with the binge, and each time, somehow, it was a surprise to me. Each time it happened I would be devastated, so that each binge would have to be a little more brazen to deal with the intensifying shame, and then the shame would get more intense. And I hated myself more and more.
Overcoming this self loathing is about forgiveness, and reentering into relationship with this thing (love), that terrifies me, and that's what I did this past week. I went to a cycling class with this woman I used to work with. Let me say that she is absolutely gorgeous, but I was excited because I was actually seeing her as a friend, past her physical beauty and to a person that I feel I could really connect with and get to know. So when she invited me the morning of, I had no problem saying "yes." I felt a little fear, but given how I've felt about her I didn't think I would have any issues. But when I got there she seemed excited to see me and I was completely thrown off. It terrified me. I immediately shut down, tried to escape and back out by leaving the conversation, looking around the room for help, projecting shame all over the place. And then I looked at her and she was looking around, wondering what was going on. I felt like I spoiled her good mood. I felt like I made a complete fool of myself, and I couldn't let it go. I spent the entire class trying to undo what happened, dreading the end when I would have to talk to people and make my way out of there.
Then I started judging myself mercilessly. I was out of breath. Couldn't ride as fast as anyone else, wasn't as connected to my body as she was. I felt ashamed of myself. Everything I do: the writing, reading, the schooling I've had, felt worthless in that room, it had no value. I felt like I had no value. What's my value? And then I wondered if the only reason I pursue all that intellectual stuff is so I can feel superior to everyone else. Why do I even do the things I do? And when I meet people it's always on my terms, in my comfort zone: at a movie or at a museum. I steer the conversation to TV, books, writers etc. I control the intimacy so I won't have to feel vulnerable. And I saw that she sees me as a friend, and that hurt. I wasn't expecting that. I was ok with liking her as a friend, but I didn't know what it would feel like the other way around. I didn't know I wanted her to want me. I was blindsided by all this. It hurt, and I was embarrassed, but as I rode that bike I had to meet myself where I was. I had to be with my insecurities and settle in. I couldn't run anywhere. There was nowhere to go. I saw how resistant I am to being in my body, and I judged myself for that, but I kept being present to the aches and pains, to my breath as I struggled to catch it, and there was some moments of real compassion for myself, and deep love and respect for my body and the things it can do, and how I can feel connected to it, and if I'm not connected to my body, then how am I going to connect to others?
After the class a woman asked me a question about my shirt, and I felt myself judging her, projecting that same shaming energy, trying to control her and make her stop instead of being with what is. I tried to protect myself. I was mortified, ashamed, but I stuck with it, and I was even able to crack a joke. But I couldn't go with it. I felt guilty, and I couldn't settle in. I concentrated on my failures. I kept judging myself. I wasn't as present as everyone else was. I couldn't be where I was, and own my discomfort. In my view, it's a harsh world. You won't get help and you have to hide your feelings. But I asked her a question about herself and we talked a little more. I felt ashamed of my feelings and that I was making everyone uncomfortable. I felt like a burden to everyone around me. Then I remembered what my mom said about me being unplanned, unwanted. I felt the pain deep in my heart. But an even worse pain is feeling like you can't let anyone see, so I felt like a monster. I wanted to punish myself, but I kept going. When my friend was in a conversation with someone I struck up a conversation with the only other guy in the class, who I was interested in, and started to feel more comfortable. I felt more aligned with myself. I had done something for myself: I honored my curiosity. I didn't care if he seemed skeptical of me. I knew I had good intentions. Boy did that feel good. I felt comfortable in my own skin for a second.
Then I was alone again. My friend was talking to someone and I was stranded. I didn't know what to do. She sensed this and hurried her conversation along, bless her. I felt out of place but not terribly uncomfortable. Everyone was talking to someone and I was left out. I didn't know what to do but felt confident there was nothing for me to do. Everyone was engaged, so I waited. My friend finished her conversation and we made our way out. Would she hug the instructor, should I? She just said goodbye. I looked to her too but she didn't say anything to me. I could have said something but she was talking with someone. Finally she acknowledged my staring and asked me how class was. I was caught off guard and immediately embarrassed. She shifted too, her demeanor seemed to say, "what's wrong with this guy?" I measured how engaging I should be given she was talking with someone else. I didn't want to interrupt and I wanted to be truthful. I felt like I had to tell her how uncomfortable I was, like I owed it to her. Like I had to share what was going on with me, like I had to give her everything, and I expected her or one of the other women there to lash out at me any minute. I said something about Youtube and how this class really clicked for me and that I would be back. I didn't know if that was true or not.
As soon as we got in the parking lot my friend said she was going to eat and do some work, that I could come if I wanted, and I thought "oh God, she's completely embarrassed by me and she wants to get away. She never wants to see me again and I'm going to be alone forever." I wanted to get away too. I wanted to be alone and wallow, to stew in my self loathing. I wanted to hide. I didn't want to see her or anyone ever again. We had planned to do something that night and when I asked if she still wanted to go I was shaking my head "no," and trying to to put postponement into her brain waves. She got the message. "Do you want to go next week?" She seemed amenable to going that night, but I was in crisis.
I had some things to do around the house that I was even more inclined to do now given what I'd done. I felt for sure that she hated me and so I sent her a text thanking her for inviting me and telling her how good I felt, hoping that would salvage things but she didn't respond for a long time, which didn't help, and I spent the rest of the afternoon compulsively cleaning and beating myself up, which eventually turned to anger toward her, and passive aggressiveness, even though she'd done all these things for me, and had been so patient with me. Would I have been so patient with someone who'd been as uncomfortable as I was? Probably not, given how impatient I am with myself.
Yesterday was a nightmare I couldn't get myself out of. I would beat myself up, then congratulate myself for doing something new, then try to find humor before beating myself up again. It was just like a binge-purge pattern. I didn't talk to anyone about it. I hoped someone would ask. I waited to be rescued. I wanted someone to reach out to me so I knew I had value. I didn't act out. I know enough to white knuckle it now, know that feelings don't last forever, but not enough to do something about it. Today I feel motivated. Perfection has kicked in. I want the perfect body. That'll show 'em. I did yoga and thought I hurt myself. I used to take out difficult feelings on my body. But I noticed what I was doing and stopped, tried to be a little more gentle. I'm planning all these things to write. I'll be a genius, and then no one can ever hurt me. I still want to be invulnerable rather than lean into it. I knew this would be difficult but I didn't know it would be this difficult. I had suicidal thoughts. Women have seemed a little more comely lately, the longing a little more desperate, the loneliness a little more acute. But I can do this. I actually liked the class. It was just what I needed, and I even found myself enjoying talking to people afterward. I just can't get over what happened. I focus on the negative. I'm afraid I'll be left alone forever. But I can face those fears and be where I'm at, be with myself. Take care of myself by acknowledging those fears and how challenging this is, rather than berate myself for every perceived mistake. Maybe that's the road to recovery. It's not waiting till you're perfect to get back out there, it's getting back out there and, realizing you're not perfect, learning to be ok with who you are.
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