In therapy today we did some more IFS, and I met this 19 year old part who doesn't like the exile much, and when asked if there was anything he'd rather be doing he said he'd rather be having fun. I liked that because since I got sober, fun has been hard to come by. I don't know what fun is for me without my addiction. My addiction was what was "fun" for me. Fun for me was thrill seeking and I suspect it still is. When asked what he might like to do I heard "travel." I used to take a lot of trips around the area, but thanks to some financial constraints I haven't traveled in a while, so I decided to take a trip into the city.
My ex and I used to do this and they were my favorite days. We would shop, and eat our way around town, explore. It's not as fun on my own. I've tried it several times but there's just no magic in it. Maybe that's why I haven't traveled much. The last trip I took was a disaster and I ended up coming back early. Maybe I'm just not good traveling on my own. It takes a lot more courage to travel, or even to be on one's own, and maybe I'm lacking in that area. Being single is hard. Without a job, I've also been glued to my desk, and to the gym, hoping for some sense of stability and worth. Anyway, I decided to take one of these trips even though I was scheduled to workout, and even if that meant missing a day of writing...I want to show myself that my worth isn't based on these things, and it's ok to take a break and have fun.
I decided to go to this food hall I had found on one of my previous trips. I really wanted a slice of pizza, and cruised the stalls, and couldn't help noticing the sad, awkward faces of people wondering if they'll be picked, as if preparing for an attack. The place was somewhat empty but I was caught off guard by the number of beautiful women, and, buoyed by the confidence of my therapy session, felt the sting of longing all the more acutely. I found a pizza place but they only sold whole pies. I made my first compromise of the day and got one, spending far more than I wanted. I wanted a sparkling water and I got a flat, snowball. I asked the female attendant what her favorite pizza was and then got something different, and felt guilty, felt like a nuisance and decided to eat the whole pizza so I wouldn't have to go back and get a box.
I stared at the women who were taken and wondered if I could steal them away from their partners. I looked at the women who weren't looking and shied away from the ones that did. I felt like everyone was watching me, seeing what a creepy loser I am. I stared at the women more, hoping to be noticed, dreading being looked at. I read and ate the whole pizza but I couldn't enjoy it. I was feeling too guilty for eating the whole pizza. I couldn't stop. I read three articles, consuming them as tastelessly as I consumed the pizza. Drank with disappointment my textureless water. Thought for sure people were watching me as I got up to throw my stuff away, felt like I was being run out on a rail.
I decided to go across town and get a cookie because 1) I couldn't think of anything better to do (so I might as well eat this whole pizza) and because 2) full confession, I had been in the city a few days previously and had wanted a cookie but didn't let myself get one. I went across town and ordered two cookies. One would have done. I spent fifteen dollars. I was full after the first but ate the second anyway (again, what else am I gonna do?). I ate through the pain. It wouldn't be good later. I ate beyond the point of it tasting good, just like I used to do when I was younger. I thought the cashier wanted me, and I was incredibly nervous. I read another article.
I walked back to my car, my stomach gurgling with stress and discomfort. Someone walked out of a door I was passing and I noticeably jumped. I walked past two guys nervously, praying they wouldn't look at me. I went back to my car because none of the store fronts looked appealing. It was like I was in a time crunch with nothing to do. I sat in my car, hoping to think of something to do but nothing sounded appealing. I defeated every idea I came up with. I saw two women approaching their car and fantasized about hooking up with them both. I could roll down my window and just ask. Just ask. I couldn't stop staring at them. I flushed with nervous anticipation, shame, fear, excitement. Watched them all the way out of the parking lot, and decided to go play poker.
I lost 400 dollars in minutes, but managed to claw my way back. I noticed I was letting go, but I was also being competitive, arrogant, and mean, and really not liking myself. I resisted starting conversations with people I was interested in because I was afraid they would lead to awkward moments, and so failed to get to know anyone. I objectified the female dealers and mercilessly judged the male ones, and anyone else in sight. Once I clawed my way back to even I cashed out, and on my way back to my car I overheard some guy on the phone telling the person he was talking to: "that's not my idea of fun." I guess it's not mine either but I can't think of anything else to do.
What do you do when thrill doesn't do it anymore? Maybe fun would reaching out to someone and going to see a movie, but that feels like work to me. Fun is laughing with a friend, but all I associate with people is pain. All I think about is rejection and anxiety so I avoid people at all costs. I have to face the pain, my therapist says, but sometimes I'm not able. On my way home I stopped by the grocery store. I was ready to get home, rest up before bed. Then I saw a woman at the checkout line. She looked just depraved enough to do something foolish. I eyed her but she didn't see me. I tried to time it to where we were walking out at the same time, but I left before her. I looked behind me to see if she was coming. She saw me and I wondered if I creeped her out. I rationalized the thought away. I hoped she parked next to me. I tried to think of things I could say. I thought of things we would do at her place. I thought of the ways I would have her, but she parked far away. I looked over at her. Was she looking at me out of the corners of her eyes? Was she interested or scared? She was too far away. What could I say? She wouldn't be into it, it looked like she might have kids. I felt flushed. She didn't look as good as I thought. But my God I wanted to. Was I becoming dangerous? Watching women in the parking lot? What's happening to me? Nothing. It's just the middle circle. You would never do something like that. I wouldn't worry. I don't think judging myself will help, but at what point should I start to worry?
This is the time when I need to buckle down. More meetings, less weed, more sleep. Don't avoid. Don't push things aside. Look for a job, even though it sucks. You'll feel better. Eat well. I know it's tough, but you'll feel better. Workout, but don't push yourself too hard. Do less more often. Stop when you start to feel good. But I still overeat. I still smoked weed. Then I got lost in fantasy and masturbation. There's nothing I can really do about this. I think I'm thrill seeking. I just have to watch it, and move through it. Can't really force change, but it's scary to feel out of control like this. That's when the shame comes in. If I don't want to feel shame I have to nip this stuff in the bud - get it before it starts to get too bad. When the fantasy starts I'm already lost. I'm terrified of the shame. Do you want to go back to the way it was? No but I'm lonely, and it's so hard to take that next step. Why don't you start by trying the "boring" stuff, maybe that's where the fun is, or somewhere close behind it.
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