Aftermath

This is the aftermath. This point in time is the reason I want out. Coming down from the false highs of a porn hit must be the low point of this addiction.

And I can't help dwelling on it; if I shut my eyes - to clear my mind, to slepp, to pray, to blink for Pete's sake, she's there. It's like I've just welded another montage of unsavoury images to the inside of my eyelids.

Any moment of happiness I may have gained from viewing porn has been blitzed by the negativity of the aftermath.

I'm disgusted at myself, for being so weak and choosing porn in the first place; for wasting so much of my time at those websites; for not just getting back on the wagon after the first slip, but letting porn get the upper hand again.

The feeling goes way beyond guilt, disappointment, or even anger. I am really p*ssed off with myself, but more than that, I feel so f*cking wretched, unworthy of God, my wife, my normal bloody life...

Reading the Bible left me cold.

Holding my wife left me cold.

The whole experience has driven a wedge between me and my real life. The lure of porn has dragged me away from everything good and real about my life, everything that really means something to me.

Of course, that's the reason for turning to it, to take me out of myself.

But sooner or later, I have to come back. That's when it hurts. I feel like shit. Like I took three steps forward, just to take two steps back.

At least I remember now.

I remember why sobriety is worth the struggle.

It's hard, but riding the downer from a porn fix is harder.

Surely nothing can be worth this?