Sexual Inventory

Posted on September 11, 2009


I know my life is improving because it is becoming very full. I don’t like to use phrases like “I’m busy” or “I’ve had a really busy day” or “lead a busy life” because there is something in the word “busy” implicative of not having time for people, or things I care about. So I’m choosing to use the word full because it allows for additional activities. And in this very full life that is becoming my own, I’m finding time to do the work that is a necessary part of recovery. The hard stuff. The grit and the grime. I’m not sure where I’ve found the minutes I need, perhaps jotting down a few things while drinking coffee in the morning, or sitting outside a dance class, or in between running from here to there, but the work I’ve been doing has revealed some very serious character defects. And as much as I’ve been writing about all the wonderful things in my life, I think it’s time to address these other things. The things that aren’t so pretty.

As an addict, I like to forget about how terrible things were as soon as they start going well. This is something I must be very cautious about, I cannot forget how things were because it will lead me back to a life filled with meaningless actions, and empty words. A big character defects is selfishness, at times I’m so narcissistic I can’t see through store windows past my own reflection. I’ve been incredibly dishonest. Especially to the people I have thought I loved most. The people I loved most. And what I seem to struggle with most is being emotionally unavailable to friends and loved ones, including myself. Most of this has been revealed by virtue of a sexual inventory. I won’t go into specifics here because I do not wish to hurt any person further than I already have. But I can discuss a general overall “my part” of things, and how I intend on making living amends by changing my present and future behaviors. I’ve started doing a sexual inventory with Jilly Beans, and some big things are coming up. Some things I need to get out…

Once upon a time….don’t all fairy tales start like that?….I was a cold selfish bitch. I had no regard for any man I dated, and used and abused their trust, their emotions, their hearts and souls. Whether it was a man or a woman, I used their bodies and words to create a false sense of love and validation inside myself, and it’s actions like these that remind me fundamentally, I am a sex addict. I have an intimacy disorder. I am working on it. Day by day.

A man that would have given anything for me, helped me through the cocaine addiction and back onto my feet, I lied to him. Cheated on him. Started doing hardcore without telling him. Tried to muster sincere feelings and when that didn’t work, I disappeared on him and never spoke to him again. I hid behind the couch in my living room while he knocked on the door yelling from outside. He knew of my indiscretions, and I’ve never forgiven myself for being so cowardly with such a kind hearted man. For being so cold hearted. It’s taken me a long time to understand that what I put him through was cruel. And wrong. It’s taken me until now to understand that I probably hurt him. In my head, when he had walked away from that door, he walked away from me, and the feelings I had caused. Now I’m beginning to wonder if that is possible for a feeling, caring person. To just walk away from feeling. I’m starting to think not.

A man that I loved dearly, met his family, became a part of his life. Who knew my flaws, could handle my life as an adult star, he was the only man I’ve been faithful to in my relationship career and I was fucking other guys on camera while we dated and considered myself monogamous. Once the relationship took a serious turn, I shut down emotionally. Withdrew my plea of love and entered one of not guilty. Once again I disappeared. This time off to hide at a reggae festival where I knew he couldn’t show up. And I brought another guy, one I knew he didn’t particularly care for. All I had to do was sit down and be honest with him, tell him that I’m overwhelmed by feelings and not sure how to move forward. But I disappeared. And then resented him for moving on with his life. I’m learning communication is key.

A man that at a very young age, I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Loved him more than the stars and the moon, more than the pacific ocean. He is the only man still haunting my dreams. The only one I can’t find on facebook, and lord knows I looked. I cheated. Lied. Lived a double life. I kept holding onto him even after I broke up with him, wouldn’t let him move on, and away from me and my poisonous attitude. And I’m still holding onto him. To the idea of him. He was an ideal man. Beautiful, and astonishingly brilliant. Sensitive, sensible, and strong. Charismatic, and charming. And at a very young age, I took the path of total and utter destruction through his garden of flowers when he needed someone to tip toe through the tulips. I don’t know that I’ll ever see him again, but if I do, I will tell him I did him wrong. Tell him that I am an addict, and that I’m not asking for forgiveness. Only for him to know that finally, I know. I was wrong.

And the list goes on. In fact, it dates back 14 years now, which is a shit ton of men and women. What’s funny about the inventory is that pornographic work takes up so little space compared to all the relationships I sabotaged. I mean, as much as I hate to say it, a job is a job, and when the person you are having sex with is as equally dissociated as you, no one person was wrong. Consensual adults having consensual sex. But with the men I’ve dated, the men in my personal life that I’ve managed to hurt, there is so much wrong. And no way to fix it but by letting them know it was wrong. And that I accept whatever dish they’d like to serve me up on.

So this is where I stand. I had a beautiful fun filled day with hiking and being lazy on the couch reading, and hanging out with friends, and yet, the whole recovery things is such a mind fuck because now I’m allowing myself to take apart my life and look at the individual pieces, I’m seeing how fucked up they really are and how I may need some pretty heavy equipment to mold them into the right shape so that once put back in place, they form a masterpiece.

And I’m okay with all of this. Not with all the wrongs I’ve done, but with the fact that it’s now time to make it right.

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Posted in: Intense Days