Some days I wonder if I’m a sex addict. Life is smooth sailing, absent of struggles. Then, there are times like today. Stressors increase. Self-loathing sets in. Tiredness overtakes me. And my Evil Genius begins to whisper; it’s soothing, stealthy voice beckoning me back to old behavior.
Today it asked me two questions:
“What are you committed to?” and “What can you get away with.”
My Evil Genius knew that where I’d want to escape was also the place I had solid boundaries set, with deterring consequences. So, it explained to me a way around my boundaries. It subtly shared how I could easily edge, while technically sustaining sobriety. It was so crafty. So convincing.
I found myself alone, laying in bed with my laptop and Wifi. Like images projected on a screen, my Evil Genius played mental pictures of women I observed earlier who captured my attention. I became captivated by that old siren’s song.
Moments before starting a sensual search, I stopped. I chose instead to write, not knowing where it would lead.
I wrote about my situation, state of mind, and need for sleep. Wrapping words around reality, I realized that even edging would feel euphoric yet leave me wanting more, like a twisted self-torture.
Looking back at my copy of Life After Lust, I reflected on these questions:
“What can I do right now that will end this before it starts?” and“What decision will close the door and stop wasting my time contemplating this temptation? In other words, what do I need to do to throw my Evil Genius under the bus?” (Life After Lust, p 48)
I journaled, “What I need to do is take a nap. What I need to do is tell my wife. What I need to do is leave my laptop downstairs. What I need to do is alert my accountability buddies. I could easily not do these things. But I will.”
And I did.
Moments after I writing out ways of escape, my son walked in the door. My wife followed. I requested she take the laptop and told her I was tempted. I sent a message to my support network then collapsed into my covers for a much-needed nap. When I awoke, I reconnected.
I am a recovering sex addict. When my strength dwindles, my brain labels lust as the cure-all comfort. But lust creates more problems than it solves. Today, I needed that reminder. Maybe you did too.