Truly the end. Get through it or into the ground.

Fank Lafin

New Member
My name here is Frank. I'm a 35 year old porn addict. As of today I'm 72 hours nofap and am currently experiencing shakes, body aches, anxiety, a huge headache. I've been angry and obsessive all day for 48 hours. This is my first hour on reboot nation. I came here because certain websites suggested anyone who's been struggling with giving up porn, should watch the Becoming A Man Of Action series by Universal Man. I watched the first 3 parts and am simply following the instructions given in that series. My posts here will be a continuation of those instructions.

My first experience with porn was when I was 12 years old. At that age, in the late 90s I was becoming obsessed with skateboarding and baseball. I never realized how these 3 things: skateboarding, baseball and porn would end up being so integral to my development as a man. It wasn't until I got some time previously attempting nofap, and was given a realization, reached, through a porn-alternative activity. Now I know this: I found a VHS tape with no label lying on the side of the rode. I picked it up. I took it home.

There were some things going on in my life, when I found that tape, that I did not enjoy.. My mental state, as I remember it, was one of total defeat. I felt as though I'd taken so many losses in my short life I could not bear another. I had made friends with sporty kids from well-to-do families that were into baseball and skateboarding, respectively. So naturally those are the things that I wanted to do. I wanted to spend time with my friends, and have fun sharing sports with them. I'd been talking to my parents for some years that I wanted to play on a baseball team. Baseball equipment and membership in a league is expensive. There was an economic barrier for my parents, who were providing for themselves and 5 children, that I didn't understand. This was easily explained to me and I understood it but didn't accept it. Skateboarding was the same. It requires equipment, a uniform dictated by current fashion, and time. I lived in an area with no concrete so I wanted trips to the skatepark. It was all possible but my parents didn't want to throw money away unless I showed serious interest. They waited.

The wait was interrupted, for my dreams and of my parents. My father was seriously injured at work that year. The family was faced with a huge economic downturn. Concerns shifted from making the family happy... to keeping the house and keeping the family together. The nonsense was over. I consider this to be the day my childhood ended. My life and my obsessions at that age were over. There were no more discussions on what we were going to do with our lives or what we wanted. We were now in survival mode. Hard times like I never knew possible were ahead. I have often said that if a time traveler came and told me what the next ten years of my life would be like, I would have killed myself that night.

Luckily for me there was no time traveler. Luckily for me, each and every member of the family found strength beyond what a human can imagine. We kept the house. My father recovered after some years, but each of us was scarred and jaded forever in a noticeable way. Not one member of my family has ever discussed any event that happened during the real crisis hours... some three years, between one another. These were years lost in time. They're never mentioned as if they never happened. Just like I never played baseball, or skateboarded or saw those friends again.

I got a job. I was kicked out of school twice. Homeschooling suited my working hours better anyway. Sending the kids to school costs money anyway. What I made took some of the burden off my parents so it was a sacrifice that had to be made on my part. In a lot of ways I liked it. I had some money. I had solitude. I had sunshine. I didn't have to think, feel, or decide anything. I could work off my stress through physical labor, but I had that tape. I didn't have just that tape at this point. I had a collection. A large one. I had an addiction. Twenty three years later I still have an addiction, and now I'm here. Great place to be.
 

Fank Lafin

New Member
No doors. During my teenage years this is the approach my poor parents took to try and calm me down and stop my chronic masturbation. After fist fights with my father and brothers, and a period of pathological lying, my bedroom door was removed along with all my possessions and privileges. Everything my parents had bought for me to have a nice teenage life, was removed. I was told to burn it all one night. For the next two years I went to work and came home to do my schooling in my room which had no door and contained only a bare mattress. During any hours that I wasn't schooling or working, I was assigned to dig holes. This was especially infuriating because during these years my father found a new career and was bringing financial prosperity to the whole family, which I never experienced because I was too busy digging. I was excluded from trips, outings, dinners, and get togethers. Left home to dig. In all honesty the family was probably worried I was going to kill them. So the best place for me was over my grave.

My parents never explained to me why I had to do these things. At a certain point, when dealing with a pathological liar and manipulator, there can't be any discussion. I see now I was assigned to dig graves. My own grave. Once the grave had reached proper proportions I was told to fill it in. The first time this happened I was enraged, and somehow each subsequent time I was equally as angry. Always believing this was the last one. It never was. I probably stopped digging holes because I left home and they weren't around to make me anymore. So... I was asked to burn all the things that were causing me harm. And dig graves during the hours I could have been causing myself or others harm. An important lesson, no matter how hard it was. At any time I could have stepped into the grave or into the bonfire. I didn't. Deep down I wanted to live and couldn't understand why I was so angry and unhappy all the time. I just wanted to live differently than a boy who digs holes. Two years of grave digging in the sunshine during my developmental years did not hurt me in the long run. It made me into what I am.

Soon after leaving home I joined the Marine Corps. The Marines will always welcome a psychotic boy who's been a child laborer and digging graves for years. Especially in 2003 when I first tried to join. I didn't get in until 2005 because I had problems with legal cases I had to clear up. Doesn't matter. I made it in at the perfect time and in the perfect place. Once in the Marine Corps, I didn't masturbate so much. I fought for my life, and I drank, but that's a different story.
 

Fank Lafin

New Member
Out in the Afghan sunshine where people are trying to kill you. It was the first time I felt human. It was the first time I felt... anything really. I worked tirelessly. I didn't consume alcohol or drugs, nicotine, caffeine, porn or anything. I got sunshine and did a lot of running while carrying a lot of weight. I slept one or two hours a night and was filled with the most wonderful feelings and energy all the time.

I wasn't mad over the grave digging and child labor then, for sure. I didn't feel pain or anxiety or fear at all. Those things are contained within my identity, which disappeared for the entire time I was warfighting. Oh but back in the States. I drank while pretending to mourn my dead friends. I consumed pornography and drugs. I took steroids which I'd stockpiled while overseas and sold them to support my new habit. I spent every dollar I'd made up to that point in life on prostitutes. I got in legal trouble again and went to court-martial.

So there I was again. Empty inside. All alone having lost everything. If only someone had come along and given me a hole to dig. Nothing as easy as grave digging this time. Now there was a lot of paperwork. Meetings with lawyers, attending rehab to try and make me look good in front of the judge. In preparation for trial, for which I waited a year and a half, my lawyer and I did a lot of things to try and clean up my life. It's absurd. It's absurd to think how hard society worked against a man who gets angry after masturbating. All these people working so hard who can't figure out why I act this way. I knew the truth. I'd always known the truth.

*update* I'm currently working through this book, which claims withdrawals can be dealt with through a reorganization of thoughts regarding the COOOM addiction.

https://sites.google.com/site/hackbookeasypeasy/home
 
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Numez

Guest
I came here because certain websites suggested anyone who's been struggling with giving up porn, should watch the Becoming A Man Of Action series by Universal Man. I watched the first 3 parts and am simply following the instructions given in that series. My posts here will be a continuation of those instructions.
are you using this journal like its suggested in metascript?
 
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Numez

Guest
Thank you for mentioning that Action man series because i discovered about his reboot regimen and im over 2 weeks now because of it. Solely because of it.

Man of action sounds like a more advanced approach for some other goals even though he uses porn addiction as an example in his metascript. I believe reboot regimen is the right choice if you wanna specifically quit porn. Reboot regimen and sexual self mastery series.
 
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