Sex Addiction: The True Love Slayer

I found this poem on another website and it is most appropriate. Read it and believe it. My update will be posted soon.

A poetic and philosophical tale of my painful journey alongside, and then away from, a sexual addict.

Maybe you felt inadequate, unworthy, alone, and afraid. Perhaps your insides never matched what you saw on the outsides of others.

I guess you came to feel disconnected—from parents, from peers, from yourself. You tuned out with fantasy and masturbation. You plugged in by drinking in the pictures, the images, and pursuing the objects of your fantasies. You lusted and wanted to be lusted after.

You became a true addict: sex with self, sex with others, group sex, promiscuity, dangerous or unsafe sex, dependency relationships, kept alive longer with yet more fantasy and sometimes even adultery.

You got it through the eyes; you bought it, you stole it, you traded it, you sold it and you gave it away. You were addicted to the intrigue, the tease, the dangerous, the mysterious, the taboo, the forbidden... In the end the only way you knew to be free of it was to do it, over and over again, even while you wondered if something was not right, and even after you finally realized just how destructive it was and could be ....

"Please connect with me and make me whole!" you screamed to me with outstretched arms, and I ran to you.

But still lusting after the Big Fix, you took away my power, and kept it for your own.

All this produced was guilt, self-hatred, remorse, emptiness, and pain. You were driven ever inwards, away from reality, away from love, away from me, lost inside yourself, inside your fantasies. Your true self became separated from the self you showed the world and then was gradually buried beneath layers of scar tissue, your senses desensitized by all those painful, scary feelings till the only ones you noticed were not uncomfortable, not unwanted... Over time those feeling became so familiar to you that they actually became comforting, you wanted them more and more until like any true addiction, they became necessary for you to feel normal, to function normally.

Your fantasy became your reality. And fantasy corrupted the real; lust killed your love.

Like the most drugs that are bad for you, the addiction to your own emotional chemicals came at a high price. Your habit made true intimacy impossible. You could never experience a real union because you were addicted to the unreal. You were addicted to the instant gratification obtained from the "chemistry" of lust, the novelty of which ran out quickly, causing you to look else where for another hit, never even knowing that you continued to by-pass the road towards a much nicer, healthier and longer lasting chemical state that can only be achieved with real intimacy and true union: the non-toxic, self sustaining, stable and wonderfully satisfying chemical state achieved with true love.

First a lust addict, and then a love cripple, you took from me and others to fill up what was lacking in yourself. Conning yourself time and again that the next one would satisfy you, unaware that you were really losing yourself as you continued to bury your real self deeper and deeper inside. Losing yourself and at the same time wasting your life as the years ticked by...

Eventually, you buried your real self so deep inside that you forgot that it was there. You also forgot that I was there. Indeed, you buried your true self so deep inside that it became almost impossible for that self to ever be found again. Impossible, except for one special person who could still see a faint light shining within you, who was hopeful enough to look closer, and who instantly recognized that treasure buried deep inside you. That one person who possessed a unique ability to see your heart and soul trapped deep inside the shell you had become.

This one person may have been the only person who could ever have saved you, but you would not let them, you did not want them to.

You didn't want to be saved at all.

That courageous person with that special ability could have unlocked the chains that still bind you, opened the lid closed for so long, and explored your inner most recesses, flooding your depths with their warm light, as they searched. They would never have faltered, only looked deeper and deeper until they had found the treasure you never even knew you had lost, but they had sensed was there.

Once they had found your real, true self; cold, malnourished, and cowering from their light yet yearning for their warmth, they would have had the courage to reach out, touched your heart and then grabbed your soul by the hand, to bring you back to the outside. Sheer strength of character would have maintained their stamina, and they would never have let go, but persevered past the point of spirit endurance until they had lifted up your soul, gained your trust, lent you strength, offered you life saving warmth and nourishment, and nurtured you until you shone back with your own bright light, reached out to touch them with your own warm hands.

Then you would have opened your eyes to see it had been me who came and found you. I would never have given up if you had let me try. Together, we could have walked side by side, hand in hand along the rest of life's road, basking in each others warmth and lighting each others path, and sharing the beauty of intimacy.

But instead, the morbid, solitary darkness of fantasy and lust slayed the beautiful, warm light of love and reality, forever.

-Spouse of a Sex Addict