Just for my Mom....

A very long time ago, we had a red fox living under the front porch at my parent's old house in Flower Mound. I'll bet you guys think it looked like this.

LJ - it's a trick. Get your gun.

Anyway, my Mom was watering the flowers nearby and scared it out form under the porch. Mom said it ran about 10 feet, turned back towards her, made eye contact and kind of....well....made a noise. Mom was badly weirded out by the experience, and I recently came across an article on the abject horror that is the vocalizations of the red fox, thanks to Zach.

Embrace the phantasmagorical, man.


Seeing it for reals had to be even more awful. Now - this is only a clip, but just imagine my poor Mom seeing this from 10 feet away.

And just in case you missed, here's the face the thing made at her.
Ready to swallow your soul, evidently.

Here's another clip of the things ostensibly raising their dead comrades from the bowels of hell in the middle of the night.



Seriously - that makes coyotes sound like giggling schoolchildren.

Anyway, I wanted to share that with you guys, and also my Mom, and to tell her that I really did believe her when she said it was weird, and now, after seeing and hearing it (even online), I'd like to say that she took it better than I would have.

That was weird, Mom. I'm glad you came through it OK. I might have cried.

869 for Tuesday.

More tomorrow - I'm tired.

Most of this week

Sunday I had a great Father's Day. Toni and our daughter took great care of me, gave me wonderful gifts (including The Zombie Diaries) and stuffed me full of delicious food before we went to the Flower Mound water park. Glorious day, glorious day. I have a wonderful wife and a spectacular daughter, and I am a very lucky and blessed man.

Toni had a job interview on Monday for a job that (apparently) didn't really exist, but she did well anyway. That afternoon we went to the Denton water park where we played until close. There's a tall speed flume that our daughter practically dived into. I screamed like a frightened Frenchman the whole way down, myself. Toni took our daughter horseback riding, and she did great. Toni is an excellent teacher.

Tuesday we had a sleepover with Faith, Audrey's BFF. We took an after-dark nature walk and the kids had a great time. By the way - our daughter's new catch phrase is "How dare you ___________"

Wednesday I was wiped out for most of the day, though I did eat my first MRE, which was surprisingly good, and certainly beats starvation. (One of the cats got into my MRE stash and chewed through the bag, so I had to eat it.) Toni dislocated her shoulder at boot camp but it managed to slip back into socket relatively quickly, and our chiropractor stabilized it to prevent further injury. Toni took a painkiller and spent most of the day resting. We took in a final showing of "Percy Jackson & The Olympians - the Lightning Thief" - which is our daughter's film de jour.

Today I worked, and our daughter is going to come back to work with me and help me finish the Thursday night changeover, which is where we change all the signs & movies for the weekend. Should be fun.

Now.....for the real stuff.

I've had a good week so far. I haven't had any hard times, though I did get triggered last night. It was odd - my body was reliving an experience, but (perhaps for the first time) it wasn't a sexual act; it was reliving the sensation (and the adrenaline dump) that I used to get before I went to bed after two certain TV shows came on. It was so weird how remembering TV shows can set me off like that, but it did. My face felt warm and I got these hot flashes and an adrenaline dump just by remembering TV shows.

I think I've made some progress in breaking that soul-tie between me and the bunny. I think it took going to see a pastoral counselor and getting some things straightened out in order for that to happen. I have to confess that I feel really badly about costing Toni a friend, man, not to mention struggling with feeling like I just offered the bunny a carrot again and then kicked it when it got close. I feel like I'm carrying some guilt about that. but on a good note, I feel like my heart has been healed a bit from yet another old, infected wound. I'm not going to pretend to know how or why God does anything, but trusting in Him to fix me and heal all of us seems to be helping me out, and it seems like it's brought Toni and I closer together as well. Our relationship feels healthier and more close. I hope that makes some sense.

The other night Toni and I were talking about this - would Jesus go to a gay wedding, and would Jesus have any gay friends? I think Jesus would absolutely have gay friends. I don't know about the gay weddings, as they used to stone you for being gay in old testament times, if I'm not mistaken, but I think that if Jesus was around today, it'd be a really interesting thing to see how He would handle that particular occasion. I think Jesus liked going to weddings.

The next blog I want to address something that has been painfully under my skin since 2004; I've been able to get some healing from it through the pastoral counseling at church, and I thought I'd share that with you guys, but I think I'm going to wrap it up for tonight, as I have to get back to work and bring the biscuit with me. Sorry I haven't updated more this week - next week should be better. I'm glad you guys are stopping by.

854.

Closing in in 900, and then 1000, man. I also have my 4-year anniversary coming up, too. Pretty cool.

PS - I also have a guy I consider a friend that's I think is in denial about a problem that *I* think he has. *I* think that because *I* have had the same problem(s), *I* feel like *I* can see it, regardless of whether or not he can, wants to, or is able to. I think *I* can see what he's doing, even though *I* think he thinks he fooling everybody. It's a source of constant frustration and tension for me, and hopefully coming up *I* can process it all out and reach whatever conclusion I need to reach, whatever that means, even if my own conclusion is that I'm full of dookie, which would not be surprising to me, or likely anybody else.

(I just wanted to write about it here so I don't forget about it. Thanks!)

this counts as Friday because I started it before midnight.

So today, in an effort to avoid my boss, I hid upstairs and did projector stuff all day long. I skipped lunch and spent a lot of the day a little thirsty, but it was totally worth it. Toni and I went to Sonic for dinner, where I ate waaaaay too much food, and I got chili and bacon on everything except my Dr. Pepper. It went right through me, of course, but it sure was good.

I'm getting really sensitive about my boss as of late, man. I feel like he's very patronizing and condescending, and a micromanager to boot. If I'm gonna be patronized, condescended and micromanaged, I think I ought to be paid more. I pay the people that work for me more, and I treat them a lot better. I think I'm gonna start looking for another gig, as I don't know how much longer my pride can hold out. I haven't been treated like a child by any boss I've ever had, and 37 is a bit late in the game to start.

We got paid today, and got in a few more online orders. That's good news, as we were scraping together change for groceries. Just in time, as always.

I think that's it, man. I have to go to work tomorrow, and our daughter is coming for the week, so I'm gonna wrap it up and enjoy the last quiet night I'm gonna have for a while.

848

Good. LORD. I've been tired today, man - all day. Evidently I can't sweat like that and recover in a day, especially if I eat a salad for dinner and have 1/2 an Ambien to help me sleep. Not enough calories to run the machine, man. I've been running at 50% all day, and I've spent most of it trying to eat, drink and recovery. Two tuna sandwiches for lunch and two (home-made) big 'ol burgers for dinner, and I still feel a little weak. It used to not be this way, man. Is this what pushing 38 feels like? Evidently so. And evidently, I need to get more exercise so when I do exert myself like that I'm not a wreck for quite as long.

I've been debating if I'm an M4 guy or a shotgun guy. All in all, I think I might like shotguns better, but I haven't made up my mind 100% on that.

There's two commercials on TV I don't like. One of for a dog food that says it has peas, carrots, rice and grains. Personally, I've never seen a dog that wanted to eat peas, carrots, rice and grains unless it was covered in meat. I think they're marketing to people who think that dogs like to eat what people think people should eat. In the wild, dogs eat meat, usually with nothing added except some dirt. Why would modern dogs want to eat anything less? The second commercial is for Arby's. They guy is gushing on and on about an Arby's roast beef sandwich, and I dislike it. He goes on and on about how it's the rock start of sandwiches, and truth be told, I think the dog food is more appealing.

I think having a Subaru Brat would be fun. I think those jump seats in the back are cool, too.

When I was in high school, my friend JD drove one. One night we were driving home from our friend Andrew's house in JD's Brat and he lost control of it on an icy road and we went through a fence. It was a barbed wire fence, but still - it was pretty exciting. I think those jump seats still have me & Kent's fingerprints on 'em. If I win the lottery, I'm gonna buy a Subaru Brat, but I'm not gonna use it for zombie combat. It's strictly for fun.

That's it. I'm going to go to bed because I'm still tired, and I have a 16 hour day in front of me. I'm hoping everybody keeps their keys in the proper place.

In lieu of having said anything funny, here's a picture.


846

Also - thanks, Mom. I'll be careful.

I sure like it when people respond to my stuff. It's validating. So, in keeping with my responding with y'alls responses....

Is that a hyena in the picture?

Yes - yes it is. It's a freakin' hyena, man.

Does it have a muzzle on?

Yep. Also, the guy is wearing a skirt of some kind and apparently has a large bone in his left hand. I don't know how big he is, but if he has a hyena on a leash he's a bigger man than I am. Evidently hyenas are pretty big, or at least that one is.

Today I spent two hours under the blazing sun in the parking lot at the theater unlocking two cars that customers had locked themselves out of. I was 2 for 2, man. I got into both of 'em, though it took some work. I also managed to sweat through my shirt, my pants, my underwear, my tie and my belt. I had to change into staff shirt to finish my shift, and I had to take a break because my hands were shaking too badly to operate the tools. I stil feel a littel crampy. I got sunburned on my head, and took me 20 minutes to get all the grease and weather stripping adhesive off my hands, but I think I saved those people at least $75 apiece. I don't see how my dad can do this kind of thing every day, and he's got 30+ years on me.

Oh - the next person in the celebrity game? Petey -> Larry David.

Am I even close?

I also think George Lopez is vastly over-exposed and over-rated. I'm really tured of George Lopez, man.

I've got nothing new new going on recovery-wise, man. We have another counseling session tomorrow and we'll see how that goes. I usually feel better afterwards, even if I feel emotionally wrung out. I've had a pretty good week so far, really. I've been doing well and I haven't had anything bad happen, and I've been doing much better with struggling. I haven't been managing my time as well as I'd like to, but I'm going to work on that tonight, largely by going to bed earlier.

I'd like a snowplow attachment for my Bronco like this:


And some thick plates of steel so I can make the windshield like this:


.... but I can't talk Toni into letting me get 'em yet. I'm wondering if I have this desire to create a post-zombie apocalypse war wagon for any reason. I have to admit that from time to time I wonder if God has a plan for somebody to have a zombie apocalypse war wagon just in case somebody needs one after the rapture. Perhaps me. I mean - what if we're wrong and we're gonna be here for the entire duration of the Tribulation? I think I might want one. Also, I think I might 10,000 rounds of 5.56 ammo, too. Barring that, 10,000 rounds of "00" buckshot is also an acceptable substitute. So does God give people crazy ideas? I'm sure people though Noah was crazy until the rain started. I suppose the real question I have to ask myself is this: do I think God is telling me to build a zombie apocalypse war wagon?

I don't have a definitive answer yet, but one day, I will. And you cats will be the first to know.

846 for Tuesday, because zombie apocalypse war wagons are more healthy for me to dwell on than sex and bunnies, and a welcome alternative train of thought.

Well, let's respond to that.

Since I hate leaving stuff unanswered (though I guess some would call it getting in the last word, huh?) I'll just respond to something left on an entry from a few days ago, since A) it has valid points to be addressed and B) I felt it had sort of a challenging tone, and didn't feel like taking hits without firing back when I think I've been marked a bit unfairly. So, here we go.

No, Anon 2, I am not being insensitive to the addicts plight. However, if this is what he's willing to write, how much more has he not written.

The only thing I haven't written is the bunny's real name, out of respect for her, for her privacy, and to attempt to salvage whatever shreds of dignity (for anybody) I can still muster.

All we see here is Ian's view, no one represents his wife.

You're right, mostly because A) this is my blog and I generally don't try to speak for anybody else and B) Toni is fully capable of speaking for herself whenever she wants, using whatever format she wants to use. Toni knows that she can respond here any time, and that I won't jump on her. She also has her own blog she can open at any time, and - oh, yeah - I live with her, and she generally tends to share her feelings with me.

If Toni feels like she needs representation here I have every confidence she can handle it herself.

I will say that I think I have a fairly good track record of admitting fault, taking responsibility and doing my best to turn away and change my actions, though I still fail from time to time. I'll even go one further and say that I have (on may occasions) willfully absorbing more than my fair share of blame, especially concerning the demise of relationships, which seem to be the cornerstone for quite a bit of my problems.

I guess, I think someone needs to look past what Ian is saying and into how all this must be making his wife feel.

I think I can answer this one, though I hesitate to put words into Toni's mouth. I'm 99.9% certain that she feels betrayed, abandoned, isolated, tired, saddened, and overall hurt.

I don't think that's any kind of a mystery here, and I don't think I've ever made any effort to conceal of minimize any aspect of that, especially her feelings and their validity. I also don't think I've ever tried to deny my responsibility for my part in causing her to feel that way.

How horrid it must be to have to wonder every time your husband leaves the house, sits at the computer or turns on the tv, if he's going to wind up doing something that breaks his sobriety.

I don't know that she thinks that's the reality of our situation. In fact, I don't believe that she trusts me that little, largely because she knows me fully and that my acting out is less likely than my behaving properly, even in the face of temptation. I have a fairly decent track record as of late.

And speaking of sobriety, does it still count on a technicality?

Well, let's make sure we're all on the same page regarding the definition, shall we? Me maintaining my sobriety means that I refrain from the three activities:

#1) I cannot look at, listen to, examine, view, watch or otherwise intentionally expose myself to any pornographic materials (literature, internet stories, pictures, movies, videos, magazines, live acts, etc.)

#2) I cannot "act out" sexually, which means stimulating myself through any means (memory, fantasy, pornography, etc) to the point of release. In short, I can't masturbate in any way, nor can I cause any intentional ejaculation for any reason. (I specify that because if I have a wet dream it's not my fault). If I want to rub one out, I can't.

#3) I can't have any sexual contact with anybody that's not Toni. No sexy texts, e-mails, solicited photos, mouth-to-mouth kissing, groping, fondling, etc. No handjobs, no oral, no rubbing, and certainly no intercourse. That's about as graphic as I'm going to get here, but if you have any other wonderments about what I can't do I'll be happy to go into as much detail in you want, though if you can't grasp the general idea odds are it won't be very helpful.

Have I done any of those things? No. Did I skirt around some of it by reading descriptions from movie rating websitres? Yep.

Was it porn? No. Literorica.com is porn. Screenit.com is not porn. The TV guide listings are not porn.

Did I masturbate or cause myself to ejaculate? No.

Did I have exchange photos with, engage in sexual commentary with, make out with, kiss, fool around with, or otherwise engage in sexual acts of any kind with anybody else? No.

Did I want to do any of those things? You're damn right I did. Alcoholics can want to drink all they want, but as long as the liquid doesn't enter their mouth they're OK. If that standard is good enough for them it's good enough for me.

In that regard, I think I'm clean.

Did I skirt the line? Yep. Did I cross the line? I don't think so. If you disagree that's a discussion we can have, I guess.

Go ahead and, view me as judgey, unknowledgable and doubtful, if you must.

Whatever you say, man (or woman). I don't have a site meter on here anymore so I don't know who's reading anymore. Hell - I could be talking to myself for all I know.

But, this blog is about laying it on the line, is it not?

I wouldn't say that it's what the blog is about per se, but I suppose that's an element of it from time to time. generally, I think it's would be more about me "laying it on the line" for myself, and neither seeking, soliciting or otherwise asking people to do it for me - especially anonymous posters with whom I have little or no established relationship with whatsoever. I have a very short list of people I allow to speak any kind of truth into my life, and they know who they are. Some anonymous blog commenter doesn't fit into that category, and because I don't know you, didn't ask you and certainly don't have any kind of accountability relationship (mutual or otherwise) I owe you nothing.

Tonight however, I had a few minutes to indulge myself.

843 for Sunday

A few things, I guess. I'll start off with my comment responses.....

Bri- Thanks, man. (It's not the bunny's fault, though - it's totally mine, and thanks in large part to you guys I can continue to work on it.)

Anon #1 - You're right. There's a (huge) part of me that doesn't want to "get over" it. Hell - there are times (like most always) when if I could have had both Toni and the bunny I'd have been happy (self-deluded) as a clam, but let's face it - that's impossible, not to mention completely selfish, unhealthy, disrespectful and just plain wrong.

If I was able (or even 100% willing) to get over it there wouldn't be a problem, but, quite obviously, I can't do it by myself. I think I've spent most of the past four years of trying to "get over it", though I've had a few occasions to think I might not need to here and there, and very far between. It's a hook (set in myself, and at this point, only by me) I can't get out, and it's been sticking other people vicariously long enough. And you're the most right about me needing to stop beating my wife with it as well, which I do every time I give the bunny (unsolicited) energy my wife should be by-all-rights getting.

Anon #2 - thank you for your kind words. I appreciate it.

Steven: You're right - any cruelty to bunnies is a crime against all that is good, soft and fluffy, and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt the bunny worse. So far, Toni and I seem to have made a very clean break, which has proven as painful as it is necessary & healthy for both of us.

So far nothing new has surfaced. I feel pretty deflated and tired. I've been trying to work really hard these past few days so In don't have time to think, and when I do think I've just been asking God to take it from me because I can't deal with it anymore.

What else? I've been carrying my .38 for the past two weeks to give the magazine springs in my Glock a rest. I have a super-comfy holster and it's proven easier to carry, but I pick up my Glock again anyway because the weather has been hot, humid, and steamy - and sweat isn't good for the bluing. Glock plastic remains unaffected, and I have to admit I like having fourteen rounds of .45 vs six rounds of .38.

On the zombie front, a co-worker does photography and recently shot these pics with a friend of hers. Are these not cool zombie-esque pictures? I call them "Zombie Glamour Shots." (And don't get all worked up about the fact that it's chicks in the pictures, either - that part is irrelvant and immaterial, I promise. Just look at the pics themselves and enjoy the zombie-killing goodness.) I'm hoping that (AFTER) Toni and I (and our daughter, of course) get some good family pictures taken we can get some like these (for fun):





I have to admit that I think I'd really like having a pic of Toni all zombie-fightered out, and let's face it - my ego would love some of me as well. I think that one of the things I like about her is how tough Toni is, both physically and emotionally. There's nobody else in the world I'd rather fight zombies with than Toni, man. And there's nobody else in the world (daughter notwithstanding) I'd fight harder to protect from zombies, either.

That goes for bunnies, too, though they are in very different classes. I love my wife enough and I'm committed to her enough that I'm willing (and growing more and more able every day) to fight against my own proclivities, selfishness, and wounds so that we can be strong together - just the two of us. I want us to be bulletproof zombie-fighter strong, and if I have to tear open my heart, fall to my knees, lose all my pride, bare my soul and eat salad I'm willing to do it.

And don't get me wrong - I have no hostility towards the bunny at all; it's simply too much of a distraction, man. It's very much a case of having to say "no" to something that I honestly feel is good (regardless of how irrational, unhealthy and utterly selfish that idea is) so that I can say "yes" to something great - namely, my wife, our marriage, and my family.

And I hope all my zombie talk makes sense. The undead vernacular and reanimated analogies tend to make me a little bit more understandable, at least to me.

842 for Saturday, and I feel like I'm starting to get a little of my old fight back.

So we went to counseling today and I have to admit I feel pretty beaten down. Odds are there are going to be some changes that I'm not going to like, and I feel like I got my ass handed to me.

Then when we got home, in a surreal Dr. Seuss moment, we saw that that cat had shat on the mat. Really. Fortunately, Toni cleaned it up, and that's pretty much a mirror to my life these days.

Intellectually, I get it - I really do. I rarely have a problem with knowing what I need to do intellectually - it's being able to follow through with whatever it is emotionally that I always seem to have a problem with, because it's our (or at least my) emotions that tend to regulate how I feel about something, particularly if it's something that means a lot to me, even when it shouldn't.

I know I should turn to God, as He's the only one that can take away what I'm struggling with. I damn sure can't do it alone - I've been trying for years - and I mean years - to shake this and I can't seem to break it, man. I get close. I get within eyesight. But always - always - something trips me up and I end up feeding it, right as it's gasping it's last dying breath. I guess that's when it's the noisiest and the hardest to ignore, or at least that's what our counselor explained to me. I'm going to trust him on this one, as I damn sure don't have any answers anymore.

I can't even begin to articulate how this makes Toni feel, either. I'm fairly certain she's been at her wits end with me several times, and the less I can provoke her the better off we are, and that's not an unreasonable request.

I feel like I have yet to really man up and draw a line in the sand on this, too. I feel like I haven't really posted a sentry or really attacked this particular weakness with the same passion I attacked the most evident behaviors of my addiction. The truth is, I don't want to attack this weakness, as I'm rather attached to it, and I want to keep it around despite the damage I allow it to do. And it's not even somebody else's problem, either - it's 100% mine. To me it's the equivalent of bringing something good and sweet and kind and harmless and using it to bludgeon Toni with, like beating her over the head with a bunny. LOOK AT THIS BUNNY! WHAP! WHAP! Is it the bunny's fault? No - it's mine, because I can't let the damn bunny go, and I feel like I'm just waving it around for everybody to see by its tired little ears, and making myself look more and more foolish every passing minute. So where does this lead us? I look stupid, my arms are tired, Toni's sick of being pummeled with a rabbit and the bunny is more tired of the whole mess than anybody.

Tonight I feel like I'm looking over the wall at the Alamo and all I see are Mexicans, and all I have is a musket, 2 balls, some wet powder, and the knowledge that it's going to come down to a knife fight before it's all over.

I'm pulling off my site meter because I don't want to know whose reading anymore. If I know (or even if I suspect) somebody's writing I want to surreptitiously communicate with I'll tailor what I'm writing to whomever I want to read it. I've done that just about every day since I found out who was reading.So hey - if you ever wondered if I was talking to you - I was. I'm sorry, guys.

So tonight I have no real answers. All I know is that I'm going to trust Toni to handle the bunny however she feels like it, and I know she'll do a better job than me. She's cool with the bunny.

What *I* need to do is to hand over the bunny to her and then pray and ask God to help me not care about the bunny anymore, or at lease not quite so much, and to take away the hurt that causes me to still try to look down rabbit trails instead of trying to stay on the right path.

I'm sorry this is such a pitiful attempt at concealment, too. None of you guys are stupid, and I'm really sorry to everybody involved.

So God, - I know you can read. I still care too much, and I can't control it or shake it on my own. I know this is connected in some way to some kind of deep wound, and only You can fix it. So fix it. Please. I've had enough, and I don't want to care like this anymore if it's going to hurt me and everybody else, and it is. And seriously - I've asked you this before, and I don't know what your problem is, but you haven't done it yet, and I wish you would, because I can't. Do you get this? I can't. So you do it. Thanks.

Anyway, to close, this is the song that General Santa Anna's band played for the defenders of the Alamo. It's called "Deguello", meaning "no quarter" or, more literally, "slit throat". This is a great recording, though I'm sure it sounded more depressing at about 6:00 AM on March 6, 1836. Have a listen, and imagine yourself in their shoes.



840 for Thursday, but only on technicalities.

Too much for just a comment response....

Pony - I appreciate it. You're not overstepping anything, either, so don't worry about it. You have earned the right to say whatever you want - you've been hanging here long enough, and I know your heart when you write :-)

Just real quick:

"....was there something keeping you from waking Toni up and asking her for help?"

A) UTI
B) She had to be up at 5 AM for boot camp and I knew she needed her rest

So there's that.

Before I start, there's one thing I probably don't stress enough: what's normal and healthy for normal (non-addict) people is the complete opposite for addicts. This is generally true for all addictions of any type. So, my normal (or what I default to naturally) is the complete opposite of what's normal (and healthy) for non-addicts. This doesn't make me special or exclusive or anything, nor does it in any way excuse, negate or condone the unhealthy stuff I think, say, desire or do - it's just the default of how an addict operates because of who they are. One of the reasons that recovery is so difficult is that an addict must do the complete opposite of what seems natural to them.

Now, understanding that, because I'm an (recovering) addict, my natural default is (and always has been) unhealthy sex, which is sex that either feeds my addiction and/or sex that's a result of it. It'd be sex (of any kind) that I feel like I can't control, or that I do out of compulsion, or that goes against what I consider to be against my own moral code or religious belief, or that's outside of ground rules I set for myself. So, as Pony said.....

I also understand that marital sex might not give you the relief you seek because it's not what you crave...perhaps you crave the "naughty sex" and certain feelings that go along with that.

Bingo. Man- did you hit on something.

It's still (frequently) hard for me to adapt to married (or healthy) sex - that's definitely a problem for me. Quite obviously - and I can't state this strongly enough - it has nothing whatsoever to do with my wife, and I have no complaints whatsoever. It has everything to do with how I'm naturally wired, though, and the continuing process of trying to reverse and re-learn what's really normal and healthy for me. Let's face it - what's factually unhealthy and damaging to my marriage (not to mention my sobriety) is what I crave and what - at my core - I want. It's what I feel like I need, and I don't have the words to express how badly I want it and no matter how far I'd be willing to go to scratch that itch. That's my default. That's what I want naturally. That's the desire and that's the craving, and that's why the healthy, normal, married sex can't begin to feed that desire or quench that undying, unyielding thirst for that sex. To my way of thinking (not to mention what my heart tells me), I can't get the relief that I feel like I need within the confines of healthy, "normal" marital sex.

And don't mistake or underestimate that last word, either - it's a deep need - at least that's what the addict inside me (or maybe my core belief about my own identity) believes it is, and only the sex that will bring me that relief that I need so badly is with a certain person, or with a certain act or under certain circumstances, and there's no getting around that.

So what do I do? I do what I did last night. Skirt the edges. White knuckle it. Dry Drunk. Sit. Wish. Think. Even hope a little.

Now - I need to say (just as strongly) that nothing I said here today should detract from any relationship I've ever had, not should it count against anybody or lessen or demean any aspect of the relationship, including the sex. It doesn't mean that I cared or loved any less for anybody, or that relationships was less special or meaningful or impactful. It's only fair that I mention that, because it's every bit as valid as anything else I've said tonight.

One more point as well - sex addiction warps what's healthy. I think it robs the marriage relationship of the deep, all consuming arousal that the sex I want (either in my addiction or at my core) holds. I don't know how to circumvent that. I don't know if it's a time issue, or a recovery issue, or a self-image issue, or something I'm going to have to deal with in counseling or what. Until then, it's going to bug me, and it's just something I think I'm going to have to continue to struggle through.

Still 837 (despite my best efforts)

I'm still an addict - a white knuckling, dry-drunking addict trying like all hell not to fall off the wagon.

My Dad always said that nothing good every happens after midnight, and I think he's right.

I got home at about 1:00 AM. I kissed my wife goodnight. I sat on the couch and turned on the TV. I ended up having a much less pleasant night emotionally because I let something I can't control get under my skin, and I started thinking about ways to flirt with acting out.

I got online and started looking at my Facebook account, which I generally try to avoid. I use that to try to search out women I used to think about and see if they have any pictures up. That's always a disappointment, as that never gets me what I really want.

So now I'm frustrated, though I still feel like I can say I have a clean conscience. It's a lie, and I want to downplay it and justify it, but there it is.

Now I start flipping TV channels during commercials, hoping to see a movie I know I don't need to watch. there isn't one. 500+ channels and there's nothing dirty on, which pisses me off. I start flipping to the Cinemax and porn channels so I can at least read vague descriptions of the movies I can't watch because, of course, we don't subscribe to Cinemax or porn channels, and Toni has locked the only other channel I'd try to watch, and I haven't been able to crack the code yet, and I just get locked out. More frustration, and now I'm wondering if I can still feel "clean" after having read all those descriptions.

I catch myself doing in other ways, too - like going to movie rating websites and reading the descriptions of the sexual content of the films. It's nothing "bad" mind you - just descriptions, but it's what I've been reduced to, trying to skirt the edges of what I think I can get away with. And the racy infomercial don't get played anymore, either, and I'm disappointed about that.

And you know what? There's nothing but sex on TV. Every channel has something with sex on it. Every stinking one, except the religious channels, and if there's a woman on there I'll damn sure find something sexual to look at. if ther5e's not one, I'll either create one or hell - I'll just find something else. Sex is awful easy to find, and if I run dry, I have plenty of stuff I can remember if I choose to.

Now I start trying to rationalize looking at stuff I want to see but know I shouldn't - stuff I haven't seen for years. I start telling myself "if I've already seen it it doesn't count", and I start trying to figure out a way to see what I want. Fortunately, I'm lazy and it's either too much trouble I don't have the stomach to go through with it because I know I'll get in unspeakable trouble, and rightfully so.

I don't want to call my guys, either. It's almost 5 AM, and I don't want to wake them up, so here I am, trying to keep myself busy. And I really only feel bad that I can't do what I want, and that causes more frustration.

So now I'm blogging, saying things I don't want to confess, and watching an MTV show about - and I swear this is true - a morbidly obese gay fat guy's search for love. This has got to be really close to the bottom.

So what do I do, man?

Do I get rid of my computer? Cancel the cable? Do I say everything I'm thinking or what? I'm thinking about going to counseling by myself at this point just to get some of this stuff off my chest in a safe environment.

So there it is, man. That's where I am at 4:42 AM on June 7th.

Shit.

So I haven't looked at "real" porn (or even soft-care stuff or naked pictures of any kind), jerked off or had sex with anybody. I'm "clean" in those regards, but I damn sure want to do all those things, which I hate.

So 837 days of not doing any of those things. And about 30 minutes of not doing anything else.

Man - I don't want to post this.

I wanted to blog today when I got home but as we've only slept for about 4-5 hours a night for the past week I took a nap when I got home. I think I'm doing a better job at not pushing Toni as hard as I tend to push myself, and I think I'm doing a better job at not pushing myself beyond of what I'm capable of working. Our big order is about 1/2 done, and the rest of the orders coming in are getting shipped within 24 hours. It feels better not to have our clients waiting.

-> insert two hour Taco Cabana break

Hah - I put in a 16 hours day at the theater yesterday. I left at about 2:45AM and I think I spent the last two hours singing at the top of my lungs in an empty movie theater. I think next week I'm going to bring my trumpet again.

I think that writing has become somewhat of a hobby for me, though I think I'm just now coming coming that realization.

And as a quick and short aside, I'd like to re-assert a long-held belief that I've had, and rarely speak of: I think the Beastie Boys are the best rap group, hands down. That stuff just as about original as you can get, and it never gets old, man. Even the videos are great.

Anyway, back to writing as a hobby for me. I'm sure a lot of it taps into my own weird need for self-introspection and expression, but the plain fact is that I enjoy it. I* also admit that I like to have a venue where I can communicate pretty freely, and for some reason typing at a keyboard seems to free me up a bit. I guess the fact that I can now type faster than I can write is a plus, too. I think my Facebook account has been relegated to a high-tech phonebook.

I was thinking as I drove home today about how I always tell people that the Internet is Forever. I suppose a part of me is a bit concerned that stuff I write here is one day going to come back and bite me in the tail, or at is at least being stored somebody to use against me later or to try to show my kiddo what a messed-up guy I am. Odds are I'm just being terribly paranoid, but at the end of the day I think I'd rather face the consequences of being real, open and honest and open than to go on living living the lies I spent so many years living.

I spent a couple of dollars and entered a raffle to win an M-1 carbine. It looks like this:
I have to tell you - I have no interest in this gun whatsoever, man. Unless my brother or Dad wants it, if I win it I'm just gonna sell it. I never thought I'd see the day where I didn't want another gun. (I'm on a five-year no-new-guns moratorium, just so you guys know. Upgrading existing guns is OK, though the only upgrading I'm interested in retrofitting my Glock's grip frame with rails and a longer magazine tube for Toni's shotgun.)

I feel like a lot of the tension between me and Toni has slacked off a lot. I think that recognizing that emotional injury that the divorce gave me and lancing that infection has made a huge difference, at least for me. I admit it's still hard for me on occasion - any time that Toni (or anybody else) does (or did) any action identical to (or even remotely similar to) something (or even anything) my ex-wife did I got (OK - still sometimes get) tense, short, and/or and angry.

For example, several weeks ago (before we began counseling), Toni was talking about getting another job. In my mind - and I swear this is true - I really thought that she was going to get another job so that she could financially prepare herself to leave me. Toni told me that she was only doing it so that we could pay down our bills and get caught back up financially. I told myself "Hah - that's the same thing that my ex-wife told me, and then she left." And it doesn't (didn't) matter how many times she'd insist that she A) wasn't leaving and B) wasn't my ex-wife it didn't matter one bit. Apparently I had one hell of a wall built up, man, and that's just one example. And I've been doing that - to everybody - since about 2004. What a mess, huh? But it's geting better, one day at a time.

I was also thinking about how you can't ever really let your guard down against your addiction, too. I mean, the steps you consciously take to actively attack or defend against eventually become second nature and/or habit eventually, but you can't ever completely cut off all your defenses. And that thought makes me tired, man - so very tired. I (probably) have decades of fighting in front of me. These past three years have been a gold-plated bitch a lot of the time, too. But I suppose that's why you have to take it one day at a time. I guess that's the only way to spare yourself from what seems like an incredibly tiring (if not impossible) task.

And in the summertime it gets trickier and more difficult, as the gals tend to wear less. Which I hate (and also love, and hate that I love it.) So far it's been OK; I haven't been full-out triggered at work, where visual stimulus is impossible to avoid, especialy when the stimulus is wearing shorts. I look at a lot of eyes. Toni is always a big support, too.

OK - I'm gonna wrap it up. I'm going to replace the starter on my Bronco (again) in the morning.

Oh - and as I am codependent, I need suggestions for new glasses. I don't have to look at them, just through them, so you guys chime in, especially you ladies, as you have a much more keenly developed sense of aesthetics than I do.

For the record, my existing glasses have a big chip out of the right lens, a large scratch on the left lens, both nose pieces are held on with super-glue, the tips of the earpieces are gone (chewed off by Oscar in the night), the clear, scratch-resistant coating that covers both the lenses has begun to pit and flake off, the left earpiece is snapped in two and held together with tape, which is hidden under one of those glasses straps that is necessary to hold them to my head. In the event I did get an interview for a new job, I'm going to have to drag out my contact lenses for it, as whatever cool professional factor I might have had has now been completely driven from me like the snakes of Ireland. Personally, I'm leaning to something a bit clunkier or more retro-looking, or at least with fewer parts to break. Chime in, please, because if I'm left to my own devices it'll horn-rimmed glasses in no time.

Please.

835 for Saturday.

And I broke my glasses, so I have to get a new pair tomorrow. I'm going to Wal-Mart.

Well, I lost Internet access for a week because our phones got shut off, but it's back now. I'll bring you guys up to speed on the main emotionally impactful thing that's happened since then.

Toni and I have been going to counseling to help us get through some of our stuff, and it's been going pretty well. I think the biggest thing for me so far has been addressing a really deep wound that's caused me to act a certain way and do some pretty stupid things that have created huge relationship problems for me for a very long time - or at least since I got divorced.

Last week during counseling we tapped into a (or perhaps "the" is a better word) wound that causes me to try to continually make amends or "work off my debts" with women I had past relationships with -m particularly my ex-wife. This wound drives me to strive to “make it OK” with them, though it’s very clearly obvious that they’ve both moved on. This particular wound prevents me from fully doing the same thing, I think. I can’t control it, and it tends to control me. And maybe the worst part of it is that the teensiest part of me is completely unrepentant because it makes me feel good to do what I do.

When I’m medicating that wound (generally by being overly nice or doing things that I know are above and beyond the scope of what my relationship with that person ought to be) it's like putting cool, sweet water on a terrible burn. It’s a relief from pain, it’s a numbing of a fire that won’t go out, it’s a release of a terrible twisting stress that tightens and wrings my heart. When I’m "reaching out" or talking to them, it relaxes me, it relaxes my heart, and for a time it kills that wound. It alleviates that internal pain. It pulls out the needle, it sets the bone, it sooths the burn, and it eases the pain.

The pain is a weird sort of longing, a missing, a yearning not to get "her" (whomever "her" is - and it's been a few different people) back, but to make things right somehow. I can now look back and see how that medicating manifests itself; my attempts to "rescue” her, to be her savior, to be the "good guy". to be her soft place to land, her safety, her security the healer of her wounds, the one to bring her the relief that - get this - *I* so desperately need.


That wound causes me to try to mend those bridges that have burned, to fix the relationships that have ended, and to replace what has been lost. It causes me to ignore what I have in front of me. What I understand intellectually (for the first time) is that the driving force behind that wound is a need for me to feel OK again, for me to somehow go back and fix what wrong.

Why? Because to me, when a relationship ends, it means that there was something wrong with me, not them. I generally tend to assign the girls I’m in love with sainthood, and I turn a blind eye to anything they may be doing wrong, or else assume that I’m the reason they did what they did. When they leave (because that’s how I see it) it must be because of something I did. So what do I do? I do everything I can to try to fix it.

Now here's the biggest problem - I have a long record of being willing to sacrifice whatever relationship is in my present to go back and fix the one that still hurts me somehow. I did it with my ex, man – I was so focused on trying to medicate that wound; to try to go back and “fix” whatever it was that I did that turned my ex-wife against me that I lost out on her, and that was a huge part of the demise of that relationship.

I do know that when I'm "acting out" in that way, for the moment I feel like I’m not such a bad guy. It makes me feel happy, and that’s powerful draw.

It’s a deep, primal wound. It feels like its encased my heart in a tough, scabby, leathery sac, and it’s filled with and covers my heart in a chamber filed with a sick, dark green, septic, rotting, fulminating, infected, hot fluid.

But the good news is this - in counseling it felt like a cool, sharp, clean, bright, shiny stainless steel shunt was inserted into that sac and that infection started leaking out like staph. There was an initial spurting gush when that pressure was relieved and now it’s just leaking out, draining out of that wound a drop at a time. And I know that one day the leak will stop, and it’ll be time to flush out that chamber and rinse my heart out with a clean, pure saline liquid and wash all that infection out. And once it’s clean, we can pump it full of antibiotics so it doesn’t come back and my heart will be whole again, and healthy again, and I won’t have this wound anymore. I haven't had a bawling meltdown like that in a long time, and while I had a headache for a few hours afterwards, it felt really good to get that out of my system and start to let that wound heal.

So, that's basically where I've been since last week, but my internet is back up and I can blog again.

Work-wise it's going OK. I may try to transfer to another theater (owned by a different company) if they pay more money, but more on that as/if it develops. Our big order is going along pretty well, and it's kind of on schedule. Toni is cranking out glass faster than a machine.

Anyway, that's it. Pumba barfed in the entryway, Bunny spends her days in the windowsill, and Timone got fed up with Oscar's attitude and wouldn't let him come in through the cat door for an hour. Nothing else new or exciting, so I'm gonna wrap it up and get back to work.

831 for Tuesday