DickPalmer
Member
So here is my first post, and I hope it might help me and maybe others too; to help them avoid the mistakes I have made that have hurt someone I care for immeasurably. Had I not been so 'self-satisfied' maybe it wouldn't have taken until the age of nearly 48 to realise this.
Anyone who has seen my other posts to date may note that I'm seeing a psychotherapist. Had an initial meeting yesterday, at his home, felt quite comfortable in his presence. With the exception of two other people, he is the only person I have confessed my addiction to. Those two other people are my wife of 10 years and partner of 19 years, and the person with whom I had an affair, bringing all of this into focus. My wife isn't aware of the extent of the issue, but knows that there is one by deduction. It isn't difficult; in clearing our marital home ahead of our impending divorce she is finding all manner of clues, but not the internet stuff that was the big problem, the watershed. The other woman knows too, and knows more of the details, yet even she was shocked, but supportive. I would point out that our relationship is one of friendship, having stepped back from a physical relationship because of issues like PIED, and more so emotional issues; namely that I couldn't be sure of my emotions so realised that I needed to be fair to her, though she is hurt by this as she has fallen for me, issues and all.
The psychotherapist talked about going back into childhood to identify where some of these issues started and true enough that's where the answer lies, I feel. I can't be sure when it happened, but I can recall displaying what these days would be referred to as sexualised behaviour as a child. I was aware of the difference between boys and girls quite early on but didn't know about the reproduction side of things, I thought it was more to do with 'toileting' differences. However I definitely recall imagining girls in my class from school being naked. I discovered what it felt like to lie face down in bed or on the floor and rub myself against that surface, and how it felt to grow hard. I'd take opportunities to do that, such as locking myself in the toilet at my grandparents' house and being able to just about lie down on the floor to get that feeling as I rubbed against the linoleum. We'd sometimes accompany my father to his workplace and whilst he worked we had some freedom to just be around where his work locker was, inside which from time to time would be the odd porn magazine or two. Nothing hardcore, more 'glamour' porn than anything else. I'd do what I imagine a lot of boys would do, and touch myself whilst looking at the pictures. I still had no idea about sex and reproduction; I think it was just that I knew that nudity was a 'taboo', but that it both looked and made me feel good. Newspapers of the era, the 1970s, were awash with images of topless women, and stories of sex scandals and salaciousness. We had access to these in our household, and before the newspapers were thrown away I'd remove the pages or clip out the pictures and keep them in a secret place in my bedroom. When alone, or sufficiently comfortable that I wouldn't be caught, I'd get my 'stash' and use them to give myself pleasure. I was still too young to understand sex, so I didn't understand ejaculation probably wasn't capable by that point. It was just the sensations in my penis that I enjoyed, I had no idea that those sensations would lead anywhere. Now of course I know where they lead, and it isn't just to pleasure. It leads to a world of lying; deceiving others and yourself, of insecurity and low self-esteem in my case, and of loneliness. The impact extends beyond just the damage you can do to yourself, and that's both physical and mental, psychological and physiological damage.
That's where I need to leave this for now, I have some form of life and a job to maintain, but will continue at a later point. I hope recalling this now will help me with the stuff the psychotherapist may delve into, so that I'm making the best use of his precious and expensive time!
Anyone who has seen my other posts to date may note that I'm seeing a psychotherapist. Had an initial meeting yesterday, at his home, felt quite comfortable in his presence. With the exception of two other people, he is the only person I have confessed my addiction to. Those two other people are my wife of 10 years and partner of 19 years, and the person with whom I had an affair, bringing all of this into focus. My wife isn't aware of the extent of the issue, but knows that there is one by deduction. It isn't difficult; in clearing our marital home ahead of our impending divorce she is finding all manner of clues, but not the internet stuff that was the big problem, the watershed. The other woman knows too, and knows more of the details, yet even she was shocked, but supportive. I would point out that our relationship is one of friendship, having stepped back from a physical relationship because of issues like PIED, and more so emotional issues; namely that I couldn't be sure of my emotions so realised that I needed to be fair to her, though she is hurt by this as she has fallen for me, issues and all.
The psychotherapist talked about going back into childhood to identify where some of these issues started and true enough that's where the answer lies, I feel. I can't be sure when it happened, but I can recall displaying what these days would be referred to as sexualised behaviour as a child. I was aware of the difference between boys and girls quite early on but didn't know about the reproduction side of things, I thought it was more to do with 'toileting' differences. However I definitely recall imagining girls in my class from school being naked. I discovered what it felt like to lie face down in bed or on the floor and rub myself against that surface, and how it felt to grow hard. I'd take opportunities to do that, such as locking myself in the toilet at my grandparents' house and being able to just about lie down on the floor to get that feeling as I rubbed against the linoleum. We'd sometimes accompany my father to his workplace and whilst he worked we had some freedom to just be around where his work locker was, inside which from time to time would be the odd porn magazine or two. Nothing hardcore, more 'glamour' porn than anything else. I'd do what I imagine a lot of boys would do, and touch myself whilst looking at the pictures. I still had no idea about sex and reproduction; I think it was just that I knew that nudity was a 'taboo', but that it both looked and made me feel good. Newspapers of the era, the 1970s, were awash with images of topless women, and stories of sex scandals and salaciousness. We had access to these in our household, and before the newspapers were thrown away I'd remove the pages or clip out the pictures and keep them in a secret place in my bedroom. When alone, or sufficiently comfortable that I wouldn't be caught, I'd get my 'stash' and use them to give myself pleasure. I was still too young to understand sex, so I didn't understand ejaculation probably wasn't capable by that point. It was just the sensations in my penis that I enjoyed, I had no idea that those sensations would lead anywhere. Now of course I know where they lead, and it isn't just to pleasure. It leads to a world of lying; deceiving others and yourself, of insecurity and low self-esteem in my case, and of loneliness. The impact extends beyond just the damage you can do to yourself, and that's both physical and mental, psychological and physiological damage.
That's where I need to leave this for now, I have some form of life and a job to maintain, but will continue at a later point. I hope recalling this now will help me with the stuff the psychotherapist may delve into, so that I'm making the best use of his precious and expensive time!
Seriously, I've read your long, complicated story. In the end, it's not that unique. You're going to require the same resolve that the rest of us need to have. There's lots of tools you can use to get better. The yoga distraction is one. Realistically, you're going to have to go through the pain of mastering the urges to act out until they diminish in power. Do you have the patience and commitment to do that?
