First of all, just to be clear, Mr. Cute is not from the Sex Addict meeting. I would never because I don’t dig married men, and will not get involved with men from that group. The end. So I went to the group as mentioned. I shared as follows.
“Hi, I’m Jennie, I’m a sex addict. I’m glad we are talking about the 4th step because that is where I am right now. Doing a searching and fearless moral inventory of my life and the actions therein. Due to the fact that my addiction manifest itself in such a public place, and the beginning of my recovery is going to be broadcast on national television, and I’ve always kept a blog and a journal, I’ve decided it’s appropriate for me to document my journey in recovery via blog. I’ve been doing my 4th step through this public forum, and find that it helps me to look at myself objectively, and decide where the feelings are coming from, and I’ve made some very serious progress as a result of this. Its only natural that feelings would come up as a result of these groups, and I address these feelings on my page, not naming names or outing anyone. I would like some feedback as to whether or not this is appropriate as I do not wish for this to be an unsafe place, so please, any feedback is much appreciated. Thank you.”
And the feedback was good. Not what I intended hearing of course, but that’s what I get for going into it with expectations. The general consensus was not that it made it unsafe for the group, but that it made it unsafe for me. The guys worried that by sharing about the meeting, it would inspire someone of a more sinister nature to seek the group in attempt to find me. They worried for my safety, thinking perhaps people would show up at this group and follow me, and being that I’ve always had a persona to hide behind, somebody showing up to follow me never crossed my mind. As it is public knowledge to “some” what group I’ve been attending, I’ve decided it’s best to switch groups to protect my privacy. So while the guys were supportive of me staying there, I will not be going back. I do not wish to live in fear that a person will walk through the door in search of me. So there goes that meeting. There are plenty more. I’m not too concerned.
On an entirely different note, I went to therapy today, and hatched a chick from an egg, one that I’ve been sitting on without realizing it. Karimy said that he is finding one of my best defenses is the way I intellectualize my emotions rather than experiencing them. Mother. Fucker. Didn’t even realize that is what I’ve done, by tearing apart every shred of feeling I have, trying to find meaning and value behind each piece rather than sit in them and allow full submersion. I block off my ability to feel by over thinking and placing each emotion in perfectly wrapped packages. Ready for delivery. Don’t mind that sticker labeled “fragile” as I’ve surrounded the contents with so much bubble wrap a five year olds dreams would come true. Jokes and intellectualizing are things I must be wary of as it means I’m protecting myself from feeling. I’m not allowing myself to feel. This realization hurts. I don’t know how to process it.
I went to meet with PT today about working on a project together, the project’s base revolving sex addiction. I managed to do the same thing Karim mentioned when visualizing the project with PT. He called me on it without realizing where I’d just been, the truth that had just been revealed. I had five characters lives planned to a T, no room for wiggle, and the ending of the movie could also be wrapped up nicely with a bow, beautiful shiny ribbon to distract from the pain of creation. Life. I ended up sitting in PT’s office crying, telling him about what I’ve been going through, actually allowing myself to feel it, and he told me that this is what the movie should be about. Not the five characters I’ve imagined, not the tidy pretty picture I can help to create. But the messy, painful process that is reality. That is truth. I hugged him and tried to catch my breath. Knowing he had always seen me better than I saw myself. He told me that life is messy. PT knows what’s up.
So I came home to eat ice cream and to write. To let it out on the page, some relief, some outpour, some….something. I put the ice cream away because that is not the answer.
I can’t allow myself to search for the answer right now. It will just make too much sense.