‘Twas a rough end to the night. It had been a tough day for both of us. I had spent the previous night acting out for quite some time, leading to about 2 hours of sleep. She had a really hard day as well.
One thing that messed her up was her hair. She doesn’t get a cut and color very often. We don’t have a lot of money, we just filed bankruptcy, and she has a hard time justifying the expense. When she finally breaks down and gets her hair done, it’s a big deal.
She was disappointed.
:::ENTERING TRUTH/BITCHING ZONE:::
When I finally saw her hair I was disappointed. I think I concealed it well (good thing I’m writing about it). Her hair doesn’t look any different. It looks exactly the same as before. I know that she is disappointed with it.
The thing, I think, that really stung was from the college she attends. She is finishing up her masters degree with a 4.0 GPA. As a glutton for punishment she is getting a second masters degree. She applied for a tuition waiver. She put A LOT of effort into her application. She never heard from them so she called about it at the end of last week. Yesterday she gets a letter that said:
The graduate program in psychology would like to congratulate you on your tuition waiver of $154.50. You are responsible for any tuition or fees that your award does not cover…
What. The. Hell.
$154.50 doesn’t cover 1 credit hour. There simply must be a typo. That “Tuition Waiver” is an insult. She put more than $154.50 into the EFFORT of the application. We think they screwed up the process and gave her whatever they had left…I guess.
There will be a phone call on Monday.
If it were me, I’d refuse it in protest.
I really think she has a right to be upset.
I was just upset because I had compulsively masturbated.
:::NOW LEAVING TRUTH/BITCH ZONE:::
She reads my blog and I’m happy that she does. I am unable to say a lot of these things to her. I write them, she reads it and we discuss. That’s pretty weak, but that’s the way it is for me right now. It led to a shitty conversation.
“You’re still acting out?”
*At this point she became very quiet. There was no more interaction. She just listened. She rolled over (we had been embracing each other).
“I just came to the realization that I can’t control this. Being nice to you won’t stop you from jacking-off. And I wasn’t being nice to control you, I was doing it because I wanted to. I just realized that there’s nothing that I can do to stop you from doing it. It’s your thing. Therapist said it and everything I read said it. I just learned it.”
::::Arrows To The Heart::::
I was devastated.
When I was talking about acting out, I knew I was hurting her. I’m not so dense that I can’t read that much in her.
I had hurt her again. I crushed her and there’s nothing I can do. I apologized- that’s a worthless thing right now. “Stop apologizing. You can’t help it. It’s just that I JUST realized that you’re sick.”
She’s right though. I couldn’t control myself. I had awakened over night. That’s when it always happens at home. When I woke up, I knew what was coming. I COULDN’T STOP MYSELF!
See, I hate it.
I get no pleasure from it.
Yeah, I enjoy the orgasm, there is that.
But this isn’t about pleasure. I don’t WANT to do it. I’m not horny. I’m not really interested in sex right now. Yeah, if she initiates, I’m there. Happy as a clam. But I’m not in a place where my mind says, “Hey, you haven’t been laid in awhile. You need to go jerkoff or I’ll make you cum in your sleep.”
I don’t have thoughts of need in my noggin.
Why am I masturbating!?
I had to do it. I couldn’t keep from it.
What a shitty place to be in.
I cried. A lot.
“You’re sick, you can’t help it.”
Cognitively I know I am an addict. I know that I’m sick.
Being aware and hearing your spouse say it are 2 vastly different things.
I don’t know why.
Is it pride? Probably.
Am I embarrassed? Oh yeah.
Am I ashamed? Very much so.
I can’t keep my hands off of my dong. How do you think that makes me feel?
I feel like a shit-head. I feel like I’m a shitty person because of this. I feel like I’m not human. I’m less than human. I’m a sex addict.
You know, I would much rather be a drug or alcohol addict. I’d be able to tell people. I’d be embarrassed but not ashamed. There’s nothing more shameful than compulsive masturbation. “Dude, just keep your hands off your pecker” would be what people would say. That or when they were done making fun if me and/or mocking me they’d cap it off with belittling me.
No, I can’t tell people. It’s too personal. Hell, I mock me. I make fun of me. I belittle me. Why would anyone else treat me any differently? They wouldn’t and they shouldn’t.
I’ve hurt her again.
I’m ashamed. Again.