The Flood

I woke up to find 2 pictures she had sent.


I instantly broke into tears.
Shame is my constant companion. I told her that I have a hard time looking at her and that it literally hurts when she looks at me.
A very specific part of our discussion yesterday says on my mind over and over.
What is it?
I can’t say it.

I asked her to read my post I had just written.
“You’re good at remembering details.”
“That interaction keeps playing in my mind constantly.”

“did you sick dick?”

I told her that it’s my constant reminder.
“I hear it too.”

We talked about it. A lot.
“I want you to know that I’m devastated. Just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean it’s ok.”

Of course, I’m fully aware that everything is not ok. I can’t think of anything that is ok.

My wife told me in mid-September that she doesn’t like sex. That she really only does it because it’s her wifely duty.
My mind didn’t truly process that.
We have had sex a couple of times since. She has “helped me out” several times. In my mind, nothing was really different. We would go along as we always had.

We had started marriage counseling. Specifically for the sex issue. We have now ended that and gone to individual counseling. She starts this week; none too soon.

Marriage counseling brought out the acknowledgement of my sexual addiction. It kind of gave everyone a basis for how/why things were as they are. I had started to understand some things.

I didn’t, however, understand her. I didn’t know where she was coming from. It just didn’t register. We were still having sexual contact. Everything was ok. She would be over this in no time. We would be ok and I would escape her finding out what I really was.


3 days ago we had a day long argument. Eventually she hit me between the eyes.

you have spent your whole life thinking about your dick. How can I get off next?

Nobody has ever told me something so direct and so perfectly correct in my life.

I thought about it. Rather, I thought about it a little. The next day I thought about it some more. She and I were having a pretty nice text exchange when I told her what she had said.
“Ouch” was her reaction.

She knew it was a pretty tough thing to say. She knew it hurt me.

I didn’t really know that it had hurt me.
Come to find out, it was a fatal blow to my secret life.

We discussed “The Talk” from yesterday. We talked about the pain it brought up. She told me that every time I answered a question, it was like I was stabbing her in the heart and turning the knife.

I KNEW she was hurt by “The Talk.” I just didn’t really know how bad. Of course, right now, she doesn’t even know how bad. But I can tell that it’s the worst thing ever.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have oral sex again. Now that I know it’s been in someone else’s mouth. While we were married.”

I was protesting in my mind. I was thinking, ‘it was in a lot of mouths before we were married.’ But it was what she said at the end that came back to me as soon as I had thought it. “While we were married.” That was the key. I had betrayed her.

This all probably seems pretty easy for anyone but me to understand. But she was right, I had spent my whole life thinking with my dick.

Lust is my god.

I will do anything to serve that god. I will say anything to serve that god.
I truly believe that all of my spiritual issues and questions are due to this.

You cannot serve 2 masters.
I chose lust.

Just then I realized the depth of our problem. I just learned how deep her distaste for sex is.

I was fucking around and she was hurting about it. She had known for years that I was fucking around. I’m pretty damn sure that she KNEW, deep down, that I was sucking off dudes for at least 2 years. One does not read an email setting up a cock-sucking session without figuring it out. It really didn’t matter how good my excuse/lie was. I was setting up dick sucks and she knew it.

She just wouldn’t accept it.

For 2 years she knew.
There wasn’t any denying it. She would bring it up over that 2 year span at random times.

“No, I’m not setting up sessions with other dudes.”


Technically, it was true. The email thing never happened. But I was going to the theater and doing my thing. She didn’t know that until yesterday. But she knew what I was.

It’s interesting. I told her yesterday that the reason I didn’t initially tell her what happened during my abuse because I didn’t want her to call me a cock-sucker. But that’s exactly what I was. “Please don’t call me what I really am” is what I was saying.


So it all hit me this morning as we talked about it. She doesn’t like sex. At all. It started to decline when she found out about the phone sex. It took a massive hit when I got caught on my work computer. It died when she found out I was a cock-sucker 2 years ago.

She really only serviced me. Very rare was it that she was into it and enjoyed herself.

She had said that before.
I didn’t understand it until today.

I expect this relationship to get far worse before it improves. She has to go through her process. I think that I’m just now starting to figure out that I’m on step 1 of my journey. She has her own journey to begin. She doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t know what she thinks or feels.

This is pretty fucking bad.
I’ve never had this much pain before. I told her that even when the guy violated me as a child I didn’t have this much pain.

I have, over the past 10-12 years, been reenacting my abuse. When the abuse happened, I didn’t feel human. I felt like an object being used for his pleasure. Afterward, I put myself in the same position. I sought it out. The more degrading the better.

She told me that’s how she feels. Like an object I use to get off.


I told her that once I broke, when she hit me with the craigslist thing again, I became an open book. Yeah, I had tried to lie and cover up, but I was incapable and it was obvious. All she had to do was repeat the question. I was mentally forced to answer.

I told her that I would continue to answer her questions truthfully. And I will too. If she wants the gross details she gets gross details. But I don’t think she wants that.

She’s been hurt too much.
I think the details would be too much. At this point it would just add injury. It does nobody any good for the rest of the information. She has what she needs.

At least I think she does.
I’m ready to tell her if she asks.
I don’t WANT to tell her, but if she needs to hear it I need to tell it.

I know that saying it out loud will be incredibly difficult. I wasn’t able to really tell her anything yesterday. Not about the abuse and certainly not about my adult behaviors. She had to ask questions about it. I had to answer. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. She had to say them and I had to say yes or no.

That’s fucking week.
I want to be strong.
I will try to be strong.
I don’t want to actually say the things I’ve done, but I will. I’m willing to do the hard stuff.

I think that I’m trying to be an example as odd as that sounds.

Honey, if I can do it you can do it.
I guess.

But in reality, she’s been doing it for over 20 years. She’s the real example.

If she can do it, MAYBE I can too.

I’m going to try.
She says she’s standing with me.
I need her support now more than ever. I’m pretty damn sure she needs mine too. She hasn’t said it. I’m just assuming.

The one thing she has said is that, with her therapist, she finally had someone to talk to.

I think that means she really needs her support more than mine right now. That makes sense.

Her therapist is truly the only positive influence (relationship wise) she has. I would most assuredly have severe problems sharing my hurts and needs with me right now too.

You have to trust the person you confide in. I don’t trust me. She has no reason to. There’s no way she can confide in me. There’s no way she can share her true feelings with me.

It’s impossible.
It’s absurd to think she can. She has to use her therapist, for now, as her only true advocate. I’ve proven that I’m unworthy.

I want this to fucking end.
I want this to go away so badly.
I want to just erase the things I have done.

I want to start over.
My honesty might just be the key to that restart.

I’m really hoping that the first picture she sent me is true. That God will use our greatest pain to launch our greatest times.

I can really only put my faith in God now. The only problem is, I really don’t know him. I’ve had the wrong god for my entire life. I have go get to know the real God.

I need God’s mercy.


About MyJourney

I'm a 41 year old married father of 3. I am a sex addict. This blog is to document my progress, recovery and marital growth. Pornography is an evil creation. Let my experiences serve as a warning to all.
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