Part 2: The Anatomy of a Relapse

Recovery is self-care
Relapse occurs when an addict’s life becomes unbalanced. In obvious crisis situations, such as the death of a loved one or loss of employment, addicts are often (but not always) able to recognize that they need to focus more on recovery. But more often an addict’s life becomes unbalanced slowly over time as things pile up. Typically, a relapse begins with preoccupation, then lapse behavior, and finally full blown relapse.

Preoccupation
If you’re experiencing cravings, your life is out of balance and your sobriety is at risk. If you’re feeling resentful because you can’t have what you want, if you’re thinking, “What the hell,” “I deserve it,” or “I’ll only do ______,” those are all signs that your life has become unbalanced. Being preoccupied with sexual thoughts and desires is not a normal state of sobriety. It is a sign that you are not taking care of yourself, which triggers your addictive behaviors. Relapse begins here with obsession and preoccupation. Euphoric recall, fantasy, and impaired thinking are signs that you are no longer on solid recovery ground. You are circling a black hole.

Lapse
If you are testing or teasing yourself by cruising, contacting old acting out partners “just to see how they’re doing,” scrolling through Craigslist, Your behaviors are close enough to your acting out behaviors that it’s unlikely that you will be able to stop your downward descent. You’re not quite in the zone but you’re feeling a definite sexual buzz. Although you haven’t technically relapsed you’re very, very close to crossing the line. The “sobriety” you have now is uncomfortable at best, both your mind and body are charged with sexual energy. Most likely you no longer want to stop, but you’re fairly certain you’re in control.

These lapse behaviors must be disclosed to your therapist and sponsor. In my opinion the person who is in an intimate relationship with you also has the right to know the the truth. You do not have the right to manipulate a loved one into staying in a dangerous or unhealthy relationship. Beyond being an expression of genuine love for your partner, disclosure at this point is therapeutic for you, the addict. That being said, doing that has been excruciatingly scary and painful. I needed help to have the courage to treat my loved one with respect and honesty and I have not gone on to complete relapse.

Relapse
You’ve acted out and you’ll need to reset your sobriety date. You may be tempted to change your bottom line or inner circle to “legalize” your behavior. If you’re in SA or SRA you may decide that pornography without masturbation is “legal.” You feel like shit and are ashamed of yourself. You’re overwhelmed with the hopelessness of the whole situation and know that you’re never going to get better. Since you’ve already blown it, it’s almost a relief to give in to the inevitable. You’re going to surpass your old bottom.

Part 1: The Black Hole of Addiction

The Event Horizon
In physics the event horizon of a black hole is the point of no return. Addicts suffer relapse when they reach the event horizon of their addictive cycle. In this analogy, you are the sphere, rolling along the terrain of life. When you stay aware you can avoid most “black holes,” although a few may surprise you.hose unexpected triggers, although upsetting rarely lead to relapse. It’s when your lifestyle become unbalanced and the “black holes” of your addiction begin to look inviting that you are in the greatest danger of relapse.

Life on life’s terms
Addicts aren’t the only ones to miss the danger signs that their lives are becoming unbalanced. Everyone does. The car breaks down, the baby is teething, and you’ve gained some weight; it’s all a normal part of life. Addicts in recovery work hard to keep their reserves high so they can cope with life on life’s terms but sometimes it just gets to be too much. Skipping a meeting to give your spouse a break, taking a few extra shifts to pay for the car repairs – these are not necessarily bad things, some are even necessary – but it’s easy to see how stress can creep up on you. Like everyone else, addicts usually don’t realize things are out of balance when the scale first begins to tip. Unlike everyone else, before a sex addict feels overwhelmed, they feel sexual.

Sobriety usually feels good
No one’s going to sign up for a lifetime of misery and sexual deprivation. Happily, that’s not what you get when you become sexually sober. Usually it’s a pleasant state of existence where you’re living, not resisting. During these times of contented sobriety, addicts become better and better at differentiating between healthy and unhealthy sexual behaviors. They actively seek health and are able to use their support groups, sponsors, therapists, and recovery friends to strengthen their recovery. That’s a good thing because when an addict’s sobriety is threatened it helps if they already have a trusting relationships with people who can help. If the addict has been in the position to witness another’s struggle that helps too. And because everyone’s life becomes unbalanced at times, every addict’s sobriety is threatened at one time or another.

Seeing a trap as liberation
As an addict become more unbalanced, sexual thoughts and feelings crowd in and sobriety feels like a punishment and sexual frustration mounts. Of course none of this has anything to do with sex. The addictive cycle has been triggered because life is out of balance. If the addict regains balance, the sexual tension dissipates and sobriety will feel good again. Otherwise, it’s a species of insanity. The lethal black hole contains what seems to be a satisfying sexual banquet while the rest of space languishes in repressed frustration. It takes great courage and trust to believe that your space map is wrong, that going into the black hole will not be a release, but rather a trap.

Tune in for part two tomorrow.

Me, Me, Me

I just love this song!

The About Me page of this blog gets the most traffic, so I’ve added a little blurb about why I’m blogging. It got me thinking about the tension of between honesty and anonymity in my personal recovery that I thought I’d expand on here.

Like most sex addicts, the worst of my acting out was through the Internet where I acted anonymously and secretly. The sound of a dial up modem connecting is still an incredibly erotic trigger for me! To maintain my sobriety I had to give up the right to use the a computer at all for over six months. Even after that it was a long time before I felt solid enough in my sobriety to check email when I was alone.

Today, instead of acting out online I try to practice my recovery without being secretive. But it’s not an easy balance to strike. Be a little too open and some nutter might endanger me or my family. A little too closed and why bother reading? I like the approach taken by one blogger I admire. Someday I’ll probably ask to borrow her idea of addressing the people who think they know me, it’s just that good, but I want to find my own balance, be comfortable with my own boundaries first.

So I have fear about speaking out about my experiences with recovery from sex addiction, just like this addict:

It sounds simple but there were obstacles and doubts to overcome. I well remember a session with myself soon after I returned [home]. It ran something like this: If I go around shouting from the rooftops about my alcoholism, it might very possibly prevent me from getting a good job. But supposing that just one man died because I had, for selfish reasons, kept my mouth shut? No. I was supposed to be doing God’s will, not mine. His road lay clear before me, and I’d better quit rationalizing myself into any detours. I could not expect to keep what I had gained unless I gave it away.

I highlighted this in my Big Book (p. 253) over three years ago.

At that time, discovering and then following God’s will for me was my primary focus. I believed the dead went to heaven and lived happily ever after with God. So although it would be sad if just one man died because I’d been afraid to jeopardize my anonymity, ultimately it wasn’t all that sad. The bigger issue was following God’s will. I don’t believe in the existence of a deity or an afterlife any more so that one man’s death has become almost unbearably tragic for me. If there’s any way I can help, I should. The meetings, support, therapists, and treatment facilities were there for me when I needed it and I want to do whatever I can to pay it forward.

Good Therapy Helps

I think addicts have broken eyes. We can’t see ourselves accurately and we mistrust others when they tell us we’re worthy. Just like the song says, my current therapist is sometimes a mirror for me.

I’ve been wanting to act out. I’m bitchy, cranky, irritable, angry and tired, tired, tired of not being able to do what I want to do. I walked into my therapist’s office yesterday feeling scared that I was going to relapse and angry that I can’t do what I want. I was a evil person with disgusting desires.

He pointed out that it makes sense that I’d have all those addictive hungers swirling around. We moved. One of my children graduated from college, I spent time with my mother, I had a big wedding anniversary, it’s difficult to get to meetings, and so forth. His words took the energy out of my self hatred. The shame that comes from wanting something I don’t want to want – that’s what fuels the addictive process and without that fuel, I can think better.

I really like my therapist. Probably I love him. He knows my entire story and sees me as a good person. He knows all the gory details of what I’ve done, knows exactly how sick my fantasies are and still sees me as a good person. My struggles make sense to him. I don’t seem to disgust him at all, which is confounding. And he helps. Today I feel good, not sex starved. I’m thinking about the stuff I need to get done around the house, putting together some storage shelves and getting all the Christmas stuff organized. That’s radically different than the shit that was going through my head yesterday.

I’m trying to trust that his vision of me is right. It doesn’t feel right, but it definitely works better.

The Parlor

On Friday, I spent too much time chatting with a certified sex therapist online. I’d met this person on one of the recovery email loops I belong to. The whole thing was so weird and unsettling because she was obviously very invested in convincing me right then and there to whack off. Which made me wonder if I was really talking to a female certified sex therapist. Because wtf? A sex therapist who hasn’t heard of Patrick Carnes? Odd. And supposedly she is an instructor at some university. So curious me, I googled her screen name. And landed on an obviously pornographic link, which (idiot that I am) I clicked. Luckily I use Safari and it was lacking the plugin required to view.

Why did I feel it necessary to search? I didn’t need to know.

But in my paranoia, I remembered this short by Geoffrey Haley. Its creepy and sad, but really gets the point across.

Some of the explicit language might be triggering. You can read a summary at the Internet Movie Database here that isn’t triggering.

I Wish

I’ve been thinking about disclosure today since last night I was idly plugging my former therapist’s name into search boxes. That’s lapse behavior. Not a relapse, not something I reset my sobriety date for, just a big huge red flag that I can’t keep secret from my husband. Shit.

So I broke out the computer and sat down to write about it. Almost immediately I got an IM from a therapist. What the hell am I doing chatting when I’m stressed? I honestly do know better than that. After chatting for awhile I realize that I we?re talking at cross purposes. I believe she thinks I’m repressed and that I’m buying into an unhealthy view of sexuality. It’s the no masturbation thing that seems to be the sticking point.

Arguing the merits of masturbation is boring but I did it anyway. And as I’m hammering away at the keyboard, getting more and more upset, it hits me: wtf is wrong with this picture? Why the hell do I care if this person believes I’m sexually repressed? So I decided to exercise my boundaries and end the conversation. Besides, I was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe I could convince myself that she was right. I’d have an orgasm and then….

I’d feel so wonderful and happy with myself. Right. Not. So on and on I go with this conversation, trying to explain and explain and explain that she was basically telling a drunk to go have a beer and then just stop. On and on and on. Until I’m flushed and nearly in tears and say I need to stop chatting. I said this three times: I need to stop chatting.

An hour later she had to go pick up her child and ended our chat. Here I thought I was doing so well with boundaries. I know that it’s my responsibility to enforce my own boundaries. So why didn’t I? There isn’t a much more non-confrontational setting than Internet chat.

On top of that, one would think I’m (still) dependent on others for my sense of self. I’m so angry at myself for being such a dummy.

On the other hand, I did manage to avoid my fear about telling my husband about this latest lapse. Like all avoided feelings, that fear has come back stronger than before.

Disclosure is a wonderful idea when there’s nothing to disclose, otherwise it?s pretty much terrifying.

I wish he was the addict and I was the “good one” who never had to disclose anything. Being the shitter of the relationship gets old. And yeah, I know that’s not the way it really is, it just feels that way.

I wish that therapist was right.

I wish I was normal.

An Itchy Brain Day

I seem to be trudging a strange stream-of-consciousness path today. In this post I meander from being done with religion to the existential question, “What am I? Predator or prey? Or both?”
Truly, Patrick Carnes had it right when he said sex addiction was like having athlete’s foot of the brain.

On itchy brain days, it?s good to walk. I?m going to upload and go for a walk.

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I love the Friendly Atheist’s blog. He has just the right combination of humorous posts in amongst the thought provoking ones. Many of his posts are questions so even though I subscribe to the feed, I visit the site nearly every day to read the comments. I often compose these lengthy comments only to delete them later in embarrassment. What if some atheist drops in here and finds out I’m an addict in recovery? In the company of atheists, I’m embarrassed to be in a 12-step program.

How lame is that? Recovery saved my life, I should be proud to be known as a member of a 12-step group.

And how arrogant can I be? Like my comments are so erudite they’ll compel the reader to click thereby exposing me… as what? A sex addict? A 12-stepper?

Before I sink to far into a dangerous and self-indulgent funk, let me return to my original thought, which was that this morning I very much enjoyed reading the comments people posted in response to this question:

When did you know you were done with religion?
(For what it’s worth, that may not necessarily be the same moment you became an atheist.)

I was done with religion when I realized that trying to make what is true fit what I want to be true requires a willing suspension of disbelief.

It was a willing suspension of disbelief that helped me ignore all the danger signs with Father M. the the therapist. All the Internet searches I did looking for one, just one positive reference to an intimate relationship with a therapist; that should have been a clue.

Last week I told my present therapist that I couldn’t imagine bantering with him trying to guess what fetish he has. What joyful, titillating conversations those used to be! I used to stop and buy coffee for me and Father M. He likes sugar in his coffee. I don’t. I like mine with milk. I should have known that something was wrong when I started putting sugar in my coffee too. It was the Runaway Bride Syndrome. I don’t like f-ing sugar in my coffee.

I’ve been toying with the idea of bringing coffee to my current therapist just to see what he’d do, but I’m afraid to. What if I got in trouble? He’d be in an awkward position. Should he accept the coffee or not? We’ve talked about it enough times he?s well aware of what a charged gesture this would be on my part. Maybe he’d be mad at me. Besides it would be kind of a mean thing to do.

And worst of all, what if he liked it. What if everything that happened to me really was my own fucking fault.

When I showed up at treatment I was scrupulously honest about being a sexual predator who’d ruined a good priest/therapist/man. Except he wasn’t actually ruined just then. He told me that he was closing his practice, but he lied. He continued to see patients until my husband called his superior and told.

So I don’t bring coffee to my current therapist. But I think about doing it every time. Last week when we talked about it (again) he (again) explained how he maintains boundaries with patients. I know he’s doing this to help me feel safe.

But I felt safe with Father M. And Father M. explained all those same boundaries, in pretty much the same terms. “If I have a patient who triggers my arousal template, I refer them to someone else for therapy.” “Would it be helpful for you to hear directly that you and I will never have a sexual relationship?” That was early on though. Before I’d had a chance to exert my corrupting influence.

I hate that this happened to me. I hate not knowing who I am – an excellent seductress or a pitiable victim? My current therapist thinks I’m a victim and my therapist in treatment thought that putting myself in the role of a perpetrator gave me a sense of power and control. I don’t know what I think. I feel like a… bad person.

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t f-ing know. And I hate not knowing what I am.

What really sucks is how much space in my mind all this shit takes up. Patrick Carnes said it: “Athelete’s foot of the brain.”

Perhaps I should take a walk and say a few affirmations since I’ve definitely worked myself into a funk.

Pre-Anger Management

Dealing with anger is probably one of the most difficult parts of recovery for me, having grown up in a family that denies the existence of anger. Even with an addiction to help keep a lid on things, unexpressed anger has a way of leaking out all over the place. Sometimes that suppressed anger erupts in a sudden rage that claims our maturity and sometimes even our sanity. More often we bleed off the excess pressure indirectly by yelling, giving someone the finger, or some other form of temper tantrum. Like many others, my suppressed anger leaks out as sarcasm, profanity, and the urge to act out sexually.

Simply stated, if you don’t learn to deal with anger, you’re going to relapse. Most of us know that, but how exactly does a person “deal” with anger? Here’s how I do it.

1. Recognize I’m angry.
2. Breathe.
3. Say, “I feel angry.”

You can find some good resources to help you manage your anger online at the American Psychological Association and at the Mayo Clinic online. They work but I can’t use them unless I start with these three steps.

Recognition
Yesterday my husband played golf all afternoon. By the time he got home, the f-word had become 90% of my vocabulary, sprinkled with a few sob’s for variety. The kids were laying low in their rooms and I was in the process of burning the hell out of dinner on the grill. My husband asked if I felt angry and (of course) I said no since I honestly didn’t feel angry at all. He’s not the enmeshed, codependent partner he used to be, so he simply said okay and took over cooking the burgers, which was a healthy form of self-care at that point! Later, still not feeling angry, I dumped all his dirty clothes on top of his desk. This morning he couldn’t find his shoes – because they were dumped on the desk under the clothes. It wasn’t until he came into the kitchen laughing about it that I realized that I had been angry.

I made two mistakes here. First, I forgot that lots of profanity means I’m probably angry. Second, I forgot that my husband can often tell I’m angry when I don’t feel angry. The simple fact is that I’ve been suppressing anger my whole life. It’s going to take awhile before being angry and feeling angry happen at the same time.

Breathe
How do you handle the huge waves of anger that happen? Maybe anger that’s been suppressed (by years of addiction perhaps) rolls over you. Primal scream therapy used to be all the rage but it actually works to increase anger, not dissipate it. So screaming “I feel angry” at the top of my lungs will do more harm than good. Instead, I take a series of cleansing breaths, just like lamaze class. I do that until I’m calm enough to speak without foaming at the mouth.

Say, “I feel angry.”
It seems kind of silly to just say this but for a person like me who grew up in a family that suppresses all anger, it’s important. There are many scary things in the world that can hurt me, but my anger is there to protect me. In and of itself there is nothing wrong with anger.

Recognizing, breathing, and naming work together to enable me to manage anger without resorting to a drink or a drug, without resorting to sexual escape, and without raging.

Primary Emotions

When I was in treatment my therapist gave me a paper with all the emotions listed on it. I was supposed to refer to it whenever I was confused about my feelings. I was paying how much money to go back to f*cking kindergarden? Where the hell was the coloring book? Everything they did in treatment pissed me off.

I’m so grateful they put up with my shit.

And like a lot of stuff, the staff was right. I wasn’t good at figuring out how I felt. Mostly what I felt was sexual. I spent a lot of time being angry and horny. With some encouragement from the other patients and a great deal of patience from our therapist I started using the list, even though I thought it was beyond dumb.

As I went down the list and really tried to guess what the hell I was feeling, an amazing thing happened. I would feel less sexual and more – whatever the feeling was. I’d run my finger down the middle column and ask myself if I felt this way or that way.

How bizarre was that? I used this list, figured out that I was feeling fear, and all of a sudden every cell in my body that had just been screaming for sex suddenly forgot about sex and got scared.

You can download the sheet from the link to box.net in the sidebar of this blog. The pdf file includes the sheet, an index card-sized version, and a page of business cards.

Porn

I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that if you are a regular consumer of pornography, your sex life is not everything you’d like it to be. My guess is that you don’t exactly feel sense of overall contentment and peace when you’re done.

And women let’s not be too hasty in passing judgment on the men. Insisting on a better back story and having a textual description instead of graphic images doesn’t give us the moral high ground. If you have romance novels that fall open to “the good parts” because you’ve read those pages over and over, you can surely understand the attraction of pornography.

Now don’t get me wrong. Using porn or reading romance novels doesn’t mean you’re an addict, even if you do it regularly. I just don’t think it’s conducive to a friendly, satisfying sex life.