No title.


I have homework from the new therapist. Did I mention that I’m seeing a new therapist? Yeah. He’s much closer to my home, 5 minutes vs. 2 hours.

Here’s a positive sign: I haven’t had a panic attack during any of my sessions. I’m attributing that to the fact that my compass works better and that this guy is safe. In other words, I don’t think our relationship is based on a lie. I don’t think he’s using me or has a hidden agenda. He seems to understand. He seems safe, and he doesn’t seem to be shocked or disgusted by the idea that a female can be sexually compulsive. He can use the word masturbation in a sentence comfortably.

What else? Oh, yeah. When I told him I’d acted out, he asked me straight out what I’d done. Yeah. That’s scary and comforting at the same time. I didn’t tell him (yet) but it sure as hell sets the tone right at rigorously, unvarnished-ly honest. So, right. Scary. Comforting.

The next visit, I shared that while I’d stayed sexually sober, I drank. I’m not an alcoholic, but it doesn’t take a genius to detect some substitution going on. So what does this fucker ask me? When did I drink, what did i drink, how much did I drink. And here’s the kicker, “So are you hung over now?”

I honestly did not expect him to be this good.

Scary. Comforting. And (right on schedule) I’m feeling pretty fucking angry.

He gave me homework. I’m probably not going to do it. A fucking worksheet where I can list undesirable acting out behaviors along with possible substitutions. Gag me with a fucking spoon.

And can I just say that having one therapist who is sexual with you makes it difficult to trust.

Maybe I subconsciously engineered this whole mini relapse just to give myself the opportunity to learn to trust again.

Fucking psychobabble nonsense! Did I mention about feeling angry?

Do we ever grow up?


The picture is from the relapse prevention box I made in treatment. These are the affirmations I had to say, standing on a chair, before every meal, in front of the entire dining room.

No shit. I did that. It helped. I don’t believe in god anymore, but it still helps. It brings me back to a safe, supportive environment where I got better.

That’s a big claim, isn’t it? I got better.

And I feel a little less angry now. Tomorrow I may decide differently, this morning I did decide differently, but now I’m going to shower and go to work instead of spending the morning with sex and porn; instead of drinking (although the liquor is REALLY calling me).

I hope your day goes well, wherever you are.


Posted in 12-step recovery, atheism, i had sex with my therapist, my journaling, non 12-step recovery, rants, recovery tools, relapse, residential treatment, sex addiction, sexaholic, sexual addiction

Good news and bad news.

The good news is that I have remained sober. The bad news is that every cell in my body is screaming for sex.

The good news is that peri menopause means that soon I won’t have to deal with periods. The bad news is that until then, I get to have irregular periods that never fucking end.

The good news is that hockey is finally back. The bad news is that my team is playing like shit.

The good news is that I’m not crawling out of my skin like I was yesterday.

The good news is that I think this therapist I’m seeing is going to help.

The good news is that pretty soon the aspirin is going to kick in and I’ll feel better.

The good news is that I have some new books to read. The bad news is that I’m going to have to scroll through a ton of erotica to get to them.

The good news is that I just read what I wrote and realized I’m not going to be able to do that scrolling and still stay sober. That’s also the bad news, since orgasm is a good cure for cramps.

But the good news is that I have aspirin, which works well. I also have an old fashioned non-electronic book that I can read.


The bad news is that I think I may actually need a transfusion soon.

Posted in life in general

Good Evening


What a day. Why the heck doesn’t life let up when you need it too? I had to deal with nonsense at work to a ridiculous degree. For fuck’s sake, a small group of grown women have to fight over who washes SIX (6!) coffee cups and glasses. Not 6 of each, 6 altogether. I’m the ‘boss’ and I usually wash the dishes because:

    it takes about 4.75 minutes.
    I hate hearing the bitching.
    I hate hearing the martyrdom.

We’ve been having some fun drama, and it’s my responsibility to deal with it sine things have gotten to the point where customer service is being affected. So basically, I have been promoted to fucking kindergarten teacher/playground monitor. Yay, me.

As an aside, if there are any small business owners out there, having a grown-up mom as your office manager makes sense. I swear, “How to Talk so Your Kids Will Listen & Listen so Your Kids Will Talk” is my go-to HR manual.

I stopped by an open AA meeting. That helped… ass in wheelbarrow and all that.

I’m going to bed sexually sober. And that jittery antsy feeling isn’t as bad.

Thank you for all the prayers, good wishes, and kind words. It helps.


Posted in 12-step recovery, sexual addiction

Good morning.


So after some consideration, I’ve decided to take a break from trying to convince myself that I don’t really need to be worried about this little rejuvenation of interest doing things that are in my list of non-sober behaviors. Inner circle, bottom lines, acting out behaviors, general fucked up’d-ness or normal sexual desire; whatever the hell I label it, it’s not healthy. Who the hell wakes up in the morning and decides to surf porn, or read erotica? When I finally notice my stomach growling and glance at the clock, it’s after 2:00 and nary an orgasm has been enjoyed. Over eight hours of this and I haven’t done anything productive but pee.

But not today. Because yesterday I got honest and said out loud that I really needed to make a commitment to not acting out. And here’s the funny part. After well over $100,000.00 of therapy, a master’s degree, and a fucking library full of psych and recovery books, I had a really difficult time coming up with something else to do. No shit!

How about shower? Eat? Go to work?

I’m a fucking genius.

No. Wait. I’m a person with meal adaptive coping mechanisms who is trying to self medicate her way through some obvious and no-so-obvious stressors. Obvious: work and kids. Not-so-obvious: I don’t have a fucking clue. But whatever bullshit psychological scar, bruise, trauma or drama is happening in my little pea-brain, I’m really ready for it to be over. I mean, for fuck’s sake. So I didn’t get a red tricycle when I was three. Get over it already!

I’m ready to crawl out of my fucking skin.

I guess that clinches it. When you stop doing something that isn’t addictive, you don’t get that jumpy, edgy, jittery, fucking, fucking, fucking, I just need something to get through the day feeling.

I can tell you this much. I’m going to endure this withdrawal and fucking EXCISE that goddamn red tricycle, whatever the hell it is. Somewhere there’s got to be a brain surgeon who would do awake brain surgery and just zap that fucker right out of my head. It’d be sooooo much easier than digging around in there with a spoon, which is about what therapy feels like these days.

Right. Shower. Stopping bitching and starting with first things first. Shower.


Posted in Uncategorized

I’m glad my husband will take care of his own needs


I spent some time talking with my husband today. I wanted to know how he was doing with me resetting my sexual sobriety. We have an agreement that I be honest with him about my acting out, and I’ve been absolutely honest.

There are some things he’s willing to live with like masturbation and pornography. Cybersex and phone sex, not so much. Anonymous sex, not at all. Adult bookstores would be okay and he’s not leaving if I drink (I’m not an alcoholic). Drugs aren’t a temptation for me, thank goodness. But he wouldn’t stay with me if I started doing drugs.

So basically, I have a truly wonderful husband, a true friend and a real partner. He knows me and loves me, and for this I’m very grateful.

And I have to say, it’s an ENORMOUS relief to know that with all the sexual acting out I’ve been doing, I don’t have to worry about dragging him back down into the pit with me. He’ll stay on the edge of this ho,e I’m digging and wish me well, and give me lots of feedback that I’m not a worthless, depraved slut. That he loves me and that things will get better and that I can stop. It’s a relief because I know that if I cross certain lines, he will leave me. If I lie and don’t tell him what I’ve done, he will leave if he thinks that is best for him.

I wonder if other sex addicts struggle with the pressure of having to hide out of some perverted notion that they need to protect their spouse?

Whatever. For my part, I’m really glad that this man I love will not stay with me if it is damaging to him, even though he will most likely still love me. Because more and more I’m feeling like I want to change my mind about whether I’m going to continue worrying about porn, erotica, and masturbation. I mean honestly. Maybe this is all much ado about nothing, right.

Posted in gratitude, my journaling, relapse, sex addiction, sexaholic

Support group


I started a group at SuperBetter. Anyone interested? It’d be a way to support each other more personally.

You have to join the forum before the link below will work. The register button is all the way at the upper right of the page.

After joining, click here.


Posted in non 12-step recovery, recovery tools, sex addiction

News Flash


Porn gets boring after awhile.

Posted in life in general, relapse

Just Thinking


You know what sucks about a good therapist?

They call you on your bullshit.

I’ve decided I need a tune up, so to speak. I’ve been trying to rationalize porn, masturbation, and my whole perspective on recovery and sexual sobriety. I’m not sure what’s really going on but recently I bought a lot of alcohol although I normally don’t drink.

As I write this, I have a fifth of whiskey in my closet, hidden. I am having a REAL hard time rationalizing that.

And I’m super pissed that this new therapist has asked me not to drink for a week. That’s weird.

I’m pretty sure next week I’ll be asked not to act out sexually. That’s troubling.

I hope I’m not making a mistake, putting myself in a vulnerable situation like this again.

Posted in life in general, my journaling, recovery tools

Is my broken compass fixed?


I wrote this post a LONG time ago, back in 2010. I came across it just now as I sit here trying to distract myself from surfing the Internet for porn. Lately I’ve been questioning whether or not I want to keep doing this recovery stuff.

I don’t have much to offer up to the blogosphere, but maybe it will help someone somehow. I haven’t really “quit” recovery; but I am thinking about it.



Have I learned to trust my gut again?

To be completely honest, I don’t know if my broken compass is “fixed” or if I’m just more self aware. It works better than it did before but there are times when the needle says “safe” or “fun” or “not dangerous” when I’m contemplating doing some really dumb stuff.

There are things I’m still very unsure about. Alcohol, for example. I’m definitely not an alcoholic but I’m afraid to drink. The whole thing aggravates me, I feel stupid and angry every time I think about it, so I’ve just put the entire drinking thing on the back burner. For now, I don’t drink.

There are other things I’m pretty sure about. There’s a certain kind of creepy interaction that catches my attention immediately – we were introduced to a group of people and one of the men touched my 12 year old daughter’s back in a way that made me think he might be a child molester. My husband wasn’t worried about him at all.

Often I have to rely on others for reality checks. Take today for example. One of my big triggers is when I feel that someone is trying to take advantage of me financially. So today when a contractor stopped by with an unexpected bill – I asked my husband (who does not have that trigger) whether he thought we were being cheated. In his opinion, it was a legitimate charge. I cannot tell you what a leap of faith it is for me to rely on my husband’s judgment and let go of my own feelings. That’s especially difficult when I feel righteous, as I do in this case. It’s been 4 years since I entered treatment and got sober. I’ve been “graduated” from therapy for nearly a year.

Posted in life in general

Neat App


For some reason I found myself looking for an app for keeping track of my PCI (personal craziness index) when I found this one:

Posted in Uncategorized