Thursday, 4 August 2011

Therapeutic Writing...

According to Professor Wiseman, a world leading psychologist (author of 59 seconds) writing is actually far more effective than talking to someone else in the "therapeutic context." I wonder whether this extends to typing. I would normally argue that typing does not engage the brain in the same way as pen to paper, but at least it is worth a try.

Finding out about sex as a child was somewhat traumatic in that I was 11 years old and my neighbour who was around 14 was already highly sexually active and would tease me about not having lost my virginity, calling me a "frigid little virgin." In fact I was happy, spiritually, at school and in my life and this unwelcome addition to life - being shown pornographic images, taught about masturbation and sex and being told I was essentially not normal for not wishing to or actually engaging in these activities. This was painful.

Prior to this, I had had sexual experiences as a child, like showing off each others bodies, possibly touching as well, but I didn't think much of them, only at the time I sure wanted more of them and was deeply offended when it was refused and I was pointed out at for being "disgusting" as if I was the arbitrator and no one else was involved.

So I began masturbating in order to seek approval aged about 11. And quickly became very addicted to the intense emotional and spiritual high of sexual orgasm. As alcoholics say, "one was too many and a thousand never enough."

In order also to gain approval, of myself, of the neighbour I engaged in games of spin the bottle with other children. I also masturbated during sleepovers with my male friends and we would assist each other with guided fantasy about the females we fancied.

My masturbation really became an addiction quickly. Daily and nightly fixes, which soon became 3-5 times per day, once in the afternoon, once or twice at night and once or twice in the morning were routine without fail for years.

My relationship with my parents broke down somewhat in my teens in that it wasn't there. When I wasn't masturbating, watching films over and again, especially relishing sexual scenes, I was stealing money from my mother's purse to feed my compulsive gambling (fruit machine) addiction and to buy extra helpings of food and vending snacks at school, again a fix which I'm addicted to - stuffing myself with food to feel relaxed and at ease, especially junk. The gambling has reared its ugly head lately as well, for the first time in many years and I've had a series of several gambling binges that defy rational intelligence.

The addict was taking over and fast.

At school, I began fantasizing about sex with both sexes. Occasionally I'd yearn to make these fantasies real. I got into alcohol aged about 15, another terrible idea, and soon I was attempting to act out on my fantasies, with terrible shame and guilt resulting. My ritual would involve going to bed, setting up a fantasy movie in my brain, complete with 3-5 characters from school I would select for acting out with in my head and masturbating about.

I'd disappear off to the toilet several times at Sunday dinners with my stepfathers family, to masturbate over his youngest sister, or my adoptive cousins, or simply the wallpaper which bore topless beauties on it from the style.

By seventeen, I'd had my first relationship and it had ended in my drunken abuse at her showing interest at a pal and resulted further in my taking up alcoholic drinking along with self harm and soon the psychologist, counsellor and doctor were on show and I took an anti-psychotic medication which sent me double crazy. I mentioned nothing to my parents who had often teased me about the idea of girlfriends and made me feel dreadfully awkward and depressed, in addition to embarassing me about my body, so I felt uncomfortable and unnatural to show my body in front of my family or anyone else.

I did not do well in my exams, to my grave and bitter disappointment, for the first time in an academic life which had been described as high-flying in the past. I also met a "hippy" girl who was schizophrenic and in my eyes the most enticing and beautiful creature I'd ever come across.

I chased her for around two years, masking my desire to be in a romantic and sexual relationship with her (for fear of eventual rejection) with a desire for friendship. She occupied my head what felt like almost 24 hours per day. She had a powerful and drug like effect on me, or at least my mind's fantasy version of her.

Getting more into drugs and alcohol, I eventually nose-dived. When I saw the girl kissing a friend in a night-club whom she had previously been in a relationship and seeing others, who I thought of as "less than" I, having relationships with her, and with her telling me who she loved and it never being myself, on the come down of an ecstasy pill I had popped, I made a stab at taking my own life that night.

A few days later, after more heavy drugs, like magic mushrooms and a lot of cannabis (which I used ultimately to enhance sexual hallucinations and the effect of masturbation, same as ecstasy as well as for "social reasons") and I had a full on psychotic breakdown starting at work where I was a kitchen hand, smashing plates as a "cry for help." A doctor was called, and whilst I argued that my experience was of religious significance, I was told outright that the medical man thought my condition a psychiatric one.

The first psychiatrist I saw quickly diagnosed me as experiencing psychosis, although I was untruthful to him about my subjective experiences, was I truthful to anyone, including myself at that time? He recommended hospitalisation but I was too suspicious and paranoid to allow that. However, within a couple of weeks, I was practically begging to be taken away, such was the terror and bewilderment of the hallucinations which can certainly be compared with the dreaded DT's of alcoholism.

I had convinced myself that I had committed an act of rape on the girl I believed I loved. In fact, I had lost my virginity and I could not reconcile the disappointment and shame that my performance was not that of the adonis I believed myself to be in my fantasies about sex. And I was scared out of my wits that I was going to get into terrible trouble. This problem of not understanding the sexual act in reality and being terrified that I might be considered to have raped plagued me for a couple of years of mental agony and anguish, coupled with mental illness which only made this erroneous thought the more convincing.

For 12 weeks, I continued my masturbation addiction in the mental hospital, most of the time having convinced myself I didn't need to be there in the hospital, after all, did I really need help? Wasn't it simple as using will power and thought to get what you want? No-one understood! I was helpless and powerless. I did not realise masturbation could have been a problem, after all didn't they make a point of communicating that masturbation was "normal" at school and didn't that give me the undeniable right to be able to get away with it? Neither did I accept or realise that it could be alcohol or drugs which were the problem. Either I was the problem or THEY were the problem and there were no solutions as far as my eyes could see at that time.

to be followed up...

3 comments:

Erin Riebel said...

I can't tell you what a relief it is to find your blog on this subject. My boyfriend had been cheating on me for the last two years and is going through the SA program himself, and everything you say sounds similar to some of the things he's done or said. Most people I talk to, whenever I try to google the disease, people think it's fake. Just an excuse to be a slut. Thank you for being a voice on the matter and putting yourself out there. Makes us feel less alone.

Ben said...

I have just published a book called the sex god - No Mud No Lotus. You may find it a therapeutic read... it provides answers for men and women.

x

Ben

Mr Lonely said...

visiting here with a smile. take care.. have a nice day ~ =)

Regards,
http://www.lonelyreload.com (A Growing Teenager Diary) ..