'Cause at times in life you need a loving hand
I've seen the repentant on TV. Criminals, liars, crooks and just bad bad men. They always seem so sorry and yet you still don't believe them. You say, "sure, you're sorry now. you deserve this."
Now I know how they feel.
Everyone has fucked up. Everyone has done bad things in their lives. If you haven't, give it time, you will. If you're lucky no one will find out. If you're unlucky everyone will find out. And they'll all hate you for it.
A friend of mine recently said something that has stuck with me through all of this, "no man is as bad as the worse thing he's done." Well, it seems a lot of people don't think so. But I believe that. Thanks, Mel.
I know a few people have stuck with me, and again, I'd like to thank them. I'd also like those who haven't to please just let it go. Fine. What's done is done. I've been successfully ostracized from the group. Now let it die.
I sometimes wish I did something like get busted for trafficking heroin or got really drunk and crashed into a school bus. At least then I could claim an addiction or an illness and maybe catch some sympathy. Well, whether you buy it or not, I'm pretty sure I have a problem. I serious one. Even after all this I still haven't kicked it. I still love me some porn and I still would love to have me some sex.
I never smoked. I hold back on my drinking (believe it or not). I never did drugs. It had to come out somewhere. Because of her own problems, Jen couldn't give me what I needed. I doubt she coulda kept up with me even if she wasn't depressed and all that. Because of that I went elsewhere. If it makes any difference, Megan was the only one. I never slept around. For a while the occasional elicit shag was enough. The opportunities were not that good, but we took them when we could. We got closer and closer. Soon enough we fell in love.
But I also still loved my wife. I know few people believe that, but I did. It is very possible to love two people equally at the same time. It's not very comfortable, but it is possible. If I could've I would've kept it up forever. But I couldn't.
Eventually it came to the point where Jen and I were miserable and Mike and Megan were miserable... everyone was miserable except me and Megan when we were together.
The camel breaking straw was that old biological clock. Megan's was ringing. She wanted to be a mother. Soon. Jen was hinting more and more that she didn't want kids yet and wasn't sure she ever would. I didn't want to sit and wait for another 5 years for Jen to decided yes or no (and, it seemed, probably say no) while Megan has her own baby. I knew if that happened that I'd be there through the whole thing and it would destroy me that it wasn't mine. So we decided that we'd leave our others, sometime soon, and run off together.
Well, thanks to Mike's prying and questioning that time-table was moved up and all this went down sooner and messier than we wanted.
But you know all that. (time for the full disclosure. this is what you came for, right?)
What some of you don't know (cuz the rumor mill doesn't get that far, I guess) is that in this time relations between me and Jen had pretty much ceased. She didn't want to and I didn't find it enjoyable enough to warrant the work it took to actually do it. So we stopped.
Because of my need for that physical pleasure I sank deeper and deeper into porn-land. We wouldn't have two nickels to rub together, but I'd be able to scrounge up $12.99 on my credit card for naked lady pictures. The only "thing" that gave me enjoyment (other than my girlfriend) was the internet. Other like minded individuals were posting their own pictures. "Look what I have!" "Pay attention to me!" "Be jealous of what I have!"
I wanted to be part of that, too. I wasn't enjoying what I had, but I wanted other people to. To tell me how lucky I was. To make me feel good about what I had that they didn't. I didn't feel like I had it anymore either and I needed reassurance.
So I shared some rather private photos. In my defense (if that's possible), no faces were shown, no locations or context clues shared. The community I shared them with was small and private (as online communities go). There is little chance they've gone further. (In fact, I still run in those circles, and I haven't seen any of them pop up.) I also took them down as soon as I left Jen. She was no longer my wife and therefor was no longer mine to share. No one knew who they were looking at, but they knew she was hot and told me so. It made me feel better about myself.
But I was still bothered... because of my own issues I didn't really see Jen's depression for what it was. What I saw was a woman I was attracted to, who used to be attracted to me, that I used to have some pretty fun lovin' with, turning me down and/or not pleasing me the way she used to. I tried to think of different things I could do to maybe entice her. I was looking for some insight into what might possibly be wrong. (Y'know, instead of looking at the obvious thing right in front of me. "What elephant?")
So I snooped. I thought, since I had things I wasn't telling her, that she had things she wasn't telling me.
Well, what I found were pictures. Pictures people had given to her that she had not given to me.
Wait, I'm getting jumbled... first, let me explain my addiction a bit (apparently addicts love talking about their addictions, pull other people in, don't feel so bad about it yourself, anyway...).
The hunt and the collection.
I wasn't spending hours a day (and even more on weekends) spanking it in my creepy basement lair. I spent hours a day hunting. Looking for pictures that I liked. Even if they didn't "do it" for me, I would keep them if I liked them. Yes, just before I would log off and go to bed I would "relieve the pressure." Sometimes. Sometimes I wouldn't even bother. It wasn't all about that. It was just a collection. An obsession. Bibliophiles don't read every book they collect. Some don't even open the books they buy, but if they're rare or special in some way, they have to have them. Same thing.
Some people I know in real life have given me some of their own photos. I kept them. Some people I know in real life have posted themselves and I've found them. And kept them. And some people I know in real life gave their pictures to Jen, and I found them. And kept them.
I didn't use them for my own "pleasure" or share them for anyone else's. Just like the book collector with a rare folio, I didn't want to crack the spine or sully the pages. It was enough just to own them. And, in a way, they weren't "mine" to share. So I didn't. I hoarded them to myself.
"But why," I've been asked, "why keep them all in one clearly labeled file?"
Well, a few reasons, I guess. First and foremost, I didn't think Jen would ever snoop around my private porn stash. If she did, I'd hoped she'd be disgusted by the sheer volume and never go far enough to find what I had.
Second, it was pretty late in the game when I stumbled upon the really bad stuff (i.e. snooped through Jen's computer and old zip discs) and by then I wasn't exactly thinking clearly about this stuff. I went looking for gold (like a secret that would possibly answer what was wrong with her) and stumbled upon silver. Not what I was after, but quite a nice consolation prize. Like a drunkard looking for A.A. and instead finding an unopened bottle of Jack. The opposite of what I needed, but just what I wanted.
Lastly, for the same reason most people who are doing something wrong for a long time get sloppy. I guess I wanted to be caught. You can only hide and lie and sneak for so long before it starts to wear on you. You just want to get it over with, one way or the other. Even if you don't consciously think it, you figure that if you do get caught at least then it'll be done and out and you won't have to hide anymore.
Though if I'd known it was going to cause this much pain and suffering to everyone (and, yes, me too) I would've hidden it better.
(Yes, I know I said "hidden it better" rather than "I would've gotten rid of it" or "I never would've done it." I'm already fucked, gutted and left in the stocks for public ridicule, there's no reason to lie now. I wouldn't've gotten rid of it. I would've tried harder to get away with it. But I woulda kept it all. And I defy anyone else in my position to say they'd do differently. Glass houses, and all that. You don't know unless you've been there. Try having yourself a nice soul eating obsession then get back to me. We'll talk.)
So there ya go.
I'm running out of steam and there really isn't too much left to the story.
I fucked up, I'm paying and that's it.
Oh, wait, the reason I started all this in the first place...
Anyone know a good church in the area? Preferably Roman Catholic. There's one down the street, I'll be going there some day soon I think, but if anyone has any suggestions I'm open.
And no, not to confess.
I haven't gone to confession in years and I'm not about to.
It's not that I'm not sorry. You all have seen to it that I'm more than sorry. And I'm doing penance for it all now.
The reason I haven't gone to confession in 11 years is that, for it to stick, you have to try not to do it again. And while I doubt I'll be cheating on my wife, shacking up with a girl out of wedlock (a married girl at that, double whammy!), or oggling nude photos of friends any time in the future, I can't make any promises to giving up the porn, the drinking, the bad thoughts or the "self abuse." I'm just not that strong. Not yet.
But I've been shunned by most of my friends, and I know I'll lose more after this little post of mine, but they say Jesus never turns his back on you.
I'm not saying I'm gonna be born again. I'm not even saying I believe in Heaven and Hell and all that stuff.
What I'm saying is I'm alone. Yes, I have some friends who've stuck by me and will stick by me, and for them I'm amazingly grateful, they'll probably never know how much, but I am. But the one person I did this for, the reason behind all of this, the one person who I thought truly accepted and loved me in spite of everything I did wrong, the only person who truly knew what a sick sad fucked up individual I was(am), left me. Turned her back and went back to her old unhappiness. That boring depressing old life is better than living with me.
That's a pretty big hole to fill, and a handful of good friends isn't enough to do it. I doubt even the giant network of friends I had would be enough to stop this pain. But I'm grasping at whatever I can get that might pull me out rather than push me deeper. I need some divine intervention.
I've always said that if I suddenly found myself alone and broken and with nothing I'd turn to the church. If God wants me he's gotta come get me. He's gotta break me down and prove to me that there's more to this life than what I have now. And I think he's doing that.
Not that I could ever be a priest now. And I'm not gonna go around preaching and talking about miracles and healing and all that, but I gotta... Idano. Something.
My logical mind won't let me accept religion wholly, but I gotta have something.
Even thinking about this song makes me cry. It's the only thing that seems right, right now.
"Worry not my daughters,
Worry not my sons
Child, when life don't seem worth livin'
Come to Jesus and let Him hold you in His arms"
-Mindy Smith
(PS I know not everyone has LJ, but if y'all would be so kind to share this with anyone who you think needs to see it, anyone who should have my side and at least hate me for me and not for the rumors, I'd appreciate it. And, again, if you wanna kick me while I'm down, please don't. I'm trying to do better here and don't need recriminations. thx)
PPS. Wow, it's come to my attention that I made one mistake in this bigass post. The actual apology. I mean, this whole missive is one big apologia of sorts, but I never actually say "I'm sorry." I've never been good at it. Not at really saying it. I can always put on a funny voice. I can always make puppy dog eyes and say "sorry", but actually saying it is hard. It's hard for everyone, I know, but man...
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the pain I've caused people. I never intended it. Most of my "cowardly" actions were in vain attempt to keep people from being hurt. I know a lot of people are going to need to hear it, not just read it on some big sad essay put up for the world to see, and I'll gladly say it to anyone who is willing to forgive and try to get past it, and help me get past it too.
But not right now.
I'm fucking spent.
I know it's going to take time and all that. I accept that and expect that. Take the time you need, cuz god knows I'm taking the time I need. I need to work on me. I don't like me much either.
Anyway, I'm rambling again.
I just wanted to say thanks to a friend for pointing out my omission, and thank him for still being a friend.
And I'm sorry.
For all it's worth. I'm sorry.
Now I know how they feel.
Everyone has fucked up. Everyone has done bad things in their lives. If you haven't, give it time, you will. If you're lucky no one will find out. If you're unlucky everyone will find out. And they'll all hate you for it.
A friend of mine recently said something that has stuck with me through all of this, "no man is as bad as the worse thing he's done." Well, it seems a lot of people don't think so. But I believe that. Thanks, Mel.
I know a few people have stuck with me, and again, I'd like to thank them. I'd also like those who haven't to please just let it go. Fine. What's done is done. I've been successfully ostracized from the group. Now let it die.
I sometimes wish I did something like get busted for trafficking heroin or got really drunk and crashed into a school bus. At least then I could claim an addiction or an illness and maybe catch some sympathy. Well, whether you buy it or not, I'm pretty sure I have a problem. I serious one. Even after all this I still haven't kicked it. I still love me some porn and I still would love to have me some sex.
I never smoked. I hold back on my drinking (believe it or not). I never did drugs. It had to come out somewhere. Because of her own problems, Jen couldn't give me what I needed. I doubt she coulda kept up with me even if she wasn't depressed and all that. Because of that I went elsewhere. If it makes any difference, Megan was the only one. I never slept around. For a while the occasional elicit shag was enough. The opportunities were not that good, but we took them when we could. We got closer and closer. Soon enough we fell in love.
But I also still loved my wife. I know few people believe that, but I did. It is very possible to love two people equally at the same time. It's not very comfortable, but it is possible. If I could've I would've kept it up forever. But I couldn't.
Eventually it came to the point where Jen and I were miserable and Mike and Megan were miserable... everyone was miserable except me and Megan when we were together.
The camel breaking straw was that old biological clock. Megan's was ringing. She wanted to be a mother. Soon. Jen was hinting more and more that she didn't want kids yet and wasn't sure she ever would. I didn't want to sit and wait for another 5 years for Jen to decided yes or no (and, it seemed, probably say no) while Megan has her own baby. I knew if that happened that I'd be there through the whole thing and it would destroy me that it wasn't mine. So we decided that we'd leave our others, sometime soon, and run off together.
Well, thanks to Mike's prying and questioning that time-table was moved up and all this went down sooner and messier than we wanted.
But you know all that. (time for the full disclosure. this is what you came for, right?)
What some of you don't know (cuz the rumor mill doesn't get that far, I guess) is that in this time relations between me and Jen had pretty much ceased. She didn't want to and I didn't find it enjoyable enough to warrant the work it took to actually do it. So we stopped.
Because of my need for that physical pleasure I sank deeper and deeper into porn-land. We wouldn't have two nickels to rub together, but I'd be able to scrounge up $12.99 on my credit card for naked lady pictures. The only "thing" that gave me enjoyment (other than my girlfriend) was the internet. Other like minded individuals were posting their own pictures. "Look what I have!" "Pay attention to me!" "Be jealous of what I have!"
I wanted to be part of that, too. I wasn't enjoying what I had, but I wanted other people to. To tell me how lucky I was. To make me feel good about what I had that they didn't. I didn't feel like I had it anymore either and I needed reassurance.
So I shared some rather private photos. In my defense (if that's possible), no faces were shown, no locations or context clues shared. The community I shared them with was small and private (as online communities go). There is little chance they've gone further. (In fact, I still run in those circles, and I haven't seen any of them pop up.) I also took them down as soon as I left Jen. She was no longer my wife and therefor was no longer mine to share. No one knew who they were looking at, but they knew she was hot and told me so. It made me feel better about myself.
But I was still bothered... because of my own issues I didn't really see Jen's depression for what it was. What I saw was a woman I was attracted to, who used to be attracted to me, that I used to have some pretty fun lovin' with, turning me down and/or not pleasing me the way she used to. I tried to think of different things I could do to maybe entice her. I was looking for some insight into what might possibly be wrong. (Y'know, instead of looking at the obvious thing right in front of me. "What elephant?")
So I snooped. I thought, since I had things I wasn't telling her, that she had things she wasn't telling me.
Well, what I found were pictures. Pictures people had given to her that she had not given to me.
Wait, I'm getting jumbled... first, let me explain my addiction a bit (apparently addicts love talking about their addictions, pull other people in, don't feel so bad about it yourself, anyway...).
The hunt and the collection.
I wasn't spending hours a day (and even more on weekends) spanking it in my creepy basement lair. I spent hours a day hunting. Looking for pictures that I liked. Even if they didn't "do it" for me, I would keep them if I liked them. Yes, just before I would log off and go to bed I would "relieve the pressure." Sometimes. Sometimes I wouldn't even bother. It wasn't all about that. It was just a collection. An obsession. Bibliophiles don't read every book they collect. Some don't even open the books they buy, but if they're rare or special in some way, they have to have them. Same thing.
Some people I know in real life have given me some of their own photos. I kept them. Some people I know in real life have posted themselves and I've found them. And kept them. And some people I know in real life gave their pictures to Jen, and I found them. And kept them.
I didn't use them for my own "pleasure" or share them for anyone else's. Just like the book collector with a rare folio, I didn't want to crack the spine or sully the pages. It was enough just to own them. And, in a way, they weren't "mine" to share. So I didn't. I hoarded them to myself.
"But why," I've been asked, "why keep them all in one clearly labeled file?"
Well, a few reasons, I guess. First and foremost, I didn't think Jen would ever snoop around my private porn stash. If she did, I'd hoped she'd be disgusted by the sheer volume and never go far enough to find what I had.
Second, it was pretty late in the game when I stumbled upon the really bad stuff (i.e. snooped through Jen's computer and old zip discs) and by then I wasn't exactly thinking clearly about this stuff. I went looking for gold (like a secret that would possibly answer what was wrong with her) and stumbled upon silver. Not what I was after, but quite a nice consolation prize. Like a drunkard looking for A.A. and instead finding an unopened bottle of Jack. The opposite of what I needed, but just what I wanted.
Lastly, for the same reason most people who are doing something wrong for a long time get sloppy. I guess I wanted to be caught. You can only hide and lie and sneak for so long before it starts to wear on you. You just want to get it over with, one way or the other. Even if you don't consciously think it, you figure that if you do get caught at least then it'll be done and out and you won't have to hide anymore.
Though if I'd known it was going to cause this much pain and suffering to everyone (and, yes, me too) I would've hidden it better.
(Yes, I know I said "hidden it better" rather than "I would've gotten rid of it" or "I never would've done it." I'm already fucked, gutted and left in the stocks for public ridicule, there's no reason to lie now. I wouldn't've gotten rid of it. I would've tried harder to get away with it. But I woulda kept it all. And I defy anyone else in my position to say they'd do differently. Glass houses, and all that. You don't know unless you've been there. Try having yourself a nice soul eating obsession then get back to me. We'll talk.)
So there ya go.
I'm running out of steam and there really isn't too much left to the story.
I fucked up, I'm paying and that's it.
Oh, wait, the reason I started all this in the first place...
Anyone know a good church in the area? Preferably Roman Catholic. There's one down the street, I'll be going there some day soon I think, but if anyone has any suggestions I'm open.
And no, not to confess.
I haven't gone to confession in years and I'm not about to.
It's not that I'm not sorry. You all have seen to it that I'm more than sorry. And I'm doing penance for it all now.
The reason I haven't gone to confession in 11 years is that, for it to stick, you have to try not to do it again. And while I doubt I'll be cheating on my wife, shacking up with a girl out of wedlock (a married girl at that, double whammy!), or oggling nude photos of friends any time in the future, I can't make any promises to giving up the porn, the drinking, the bad thoughts or the "self abuse." I'm just not that strong. Not yet.
But I've been shunned by most of my friends, and I know I'll lose more after this little post of mine, but they say Jesus never turns his back on you.
I'm not saying I'm gonna be born again. I'm not even saying I believe in Heaven and Hell and all that stuff.
What I'm saying is I'm alone. Yes, I have some friends who've stuck by me and will stick by me, and for them I'm amazingly grateful, they'll probably never know how much, but I am. But the one person I did this for, the reason behind all of this, the one person who I thought truly accepted and loved me in spite of everything I did wrong, the only person who truly knew what a sick sad fucked up individual I was(am), left me. Turned her back and went back to her old unhappiness. That boring depressing old life is better than living with me.
That's a pretty big hole to fill, and a handful of good friends isn't enough to do it. I doubt even the giant network of friends I had would be enough to stop this pain. But I'm grasping at whatever I can get that might pull me out rather than push me deeper. I need some divine intervention.
I've always said that if I suddenly found myself alone and broken and with nothing I'd turn to the church. If God wants me he's gotta come get me. He's gotta break me down and prove to me that there's more to this life than what I have now. And I think he's doing that.
Not that I could ever be a priest now. And I'm not gonna go around preaching and talking about miracles and healing and all that, but I gotta... Idano. Something.
My logical mind won't let me accept religion wholly, but I gotta have something.
Even thinking about this song makes me cry. It's the only thing that seems right, right now.
"Worry not my daughters,
Worry not my sons
Child, when life don't seem worth livin'
Come to Jesus and let Him hold you in His arms"
-Mindy Smith
(PS I know not everyone has LJ, but if y'all would be so kind to share this with anyone who you think needs to see it, anyone who should have my side and at least hate me for me and not for the rumors, I'd appreciate it. And, again, if you wanna kick me while I'm down, please don't. I'm trying to do better here and don't need recriminations. thx)
PPS. Wow, it's come to my attention that I made one mistake in this bigass post. The actual apology. I mean, this whole missive is one big apologia of sorts, but I never actually say "I'm sorry." I've never been good at it. Not at really saying it. I can always put on a funny voice. I can always make puppy dog eyes and say "sorry", but actually saying it is hard. It's hard for everyone, I know, but man...
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for the pain I've caused people. I never intended it. Most of my "cowardly" actions were in vain attempt to keep people from being hurt. I know a lot of people are going to need to hear it, not just read it on some big sad essay put up for the world to see, and I'll gladly say it to anyone who is willing to forgive and try to get past it, and help me get past it too.
But not right now.
I'm fucking spent.
I know it's going to take time and all that. I accept that and expect that. Take the time you need, cuz god knows I'm taking the time I need. I need to work on me. I don't like me much either.
Anyway, I'm rambling again.
I just wanted to say thanks to a friend for pointing out my omission, and thank him for still being a friend.
And I'm sorry.
For all it's worth. I'm sorry.