This entry is for Days 59 and 60. Today is Day 61.
Please note: This entry contains mature subject matter towards the end.
I entered the wepoetsshowit.com Poetry Contest, but didn’t make the final cut. I am a little sad about it (who wouldn’t be) but realise that there’s next month too.
Prior to knowing who the Poetry Contest finalists were, my focus had already started to shift from poetry to saunas. This shift in study material isn’t a new thing. I seem to study a different topic or aspect of a subject every week. Nudity fascinates me. At first it was the bad kind of nudity (pornographic/erotic); now it’s the “good” kind nudity (non-sexual, practical). However, my interest in saunas transcends nudity. It’s about the etiquette, history, cultural connotations, methodologies, taboos, and identities that are shaped by and involve saunas.
I love learning about people: their histories, languages, customs, protocols, etiquettes and taboos. In the past, I read up on the Celts mainly because I have some Celtic ancestors; the history of the British Isles for the same reason; the Germanic tribes because they were instrumental in the fall of the Roman Empire; the Crusades and Medieval Europe because they shaped the world we live in today; the slave trade for the same reasons; and Biblical, classical and ancient history–to name a few.
Doing it anyway
Tonight I read halfway through an article for my literature review because I’m doing what it takes to finish. I didn’t feel like reading the paper at all. But, I started and ended up reading further than what I intended. I will most probably wake up at 3:45 am in the morning again to continue reading the paper and editing my data. My plan is to gradually lessen my sleeping time.
My church’s officer selecting committee asked me to be next year’s youth leader, but I declined. I am not ready to assume such a position until I’ve got this thing (pornography) beaten. It won’t be fair to the youth and will only be hypocritical of me. Plus I have to finish my studies.
Frank (my accountability partner) and I spoke on Monday. He doesn’t think that I had a relapse since I didn’t ogle the guy. I, on the other hand, believe that I did because I acted presumptuously by placing myself in a position where the probability of seeing some flesh was high. Even though I wanted to, but didn’t want to receive a neurochemical hit, the fact is I got one.
Porn addiction isn’t like being addicted to masturbation where you can distance yourself from the behaviour. Masturbation is a physical thing that requires manual stimulation of some kind; although you can orgasm just from watching porn with no manual whatsoever but that requires a conscious decision not to stimulate yourself manually and only to rely on mental stimulation, to give yourself over to porn completely losing all sense of self-control. Pornography is more psychological. A mere sexual thought is, according to the strictest set of criteria, a trigger and forgetting yourself in the thought, a relapse. One’s mind plays tricks on you revealing the truthfulness of Jeremiah 17:9. So, having an accountability partner, talking openly and freely about the addiction, and seeking to know God are of the utmost importance if one wants to be free.
I asked Frank about “justifications” and “motives” because he said that I justified my investigations by saying that I wanted to know the truth about wearing skimpy underwear. But, he couldn’t answer me. He said that it’s an individual thing. God has given each one of us a sense of right and wrong. In the innermost reaches of our hearts we know what we’re really about and that we should seek to know the Still Small Voice (of God). In time he said I will begin to distinguish my thoughts from the addiction’s and to recognise God’s thoughts. It’s almost like OCD.
I’ve been waking up a lot at night to find myself clutching or repositioning my penis or scrotum–never both. Sometimes I find myself masturbating in my sleep too, but I stop when I realise what I’m doing. What troubles me though is that I’m not horrified when I find myself masturbating in my sleep or “sleep jerking” as some people call it. I used to be horrified. Now I fear that . . . No. I won’t let even entertain the thought. So, the amount of sleep I’ve been getting is even less than expected.
I would like to write another poem. Although I tried writing an acrostic poem on character I didn’t get very far and it was no good. Oh well, c’est la vie!