NOT Your Grandma's Book of Progressive Erotica: Vol 8

Recourse

When you don't understand the problem you have, any solution can seem like a good solution. You're willing to do anything and try anything to make yourself feel better, even if the fix is only temporary, or causes more problems down the road.

Most of the time people think of taking medications, or going to see a therapist or counselor for help, but for me, I decided to have sex. Whether it was someone around my age or older, male, female, or even transgender, I had sex when it was offered to me because I was missing something in my life. Well, that's what I thought originally anyway, but it turns out I had no idea what was wrong with me when I was younger.

Now that I'm older, working full-time and able to afford therapy, I have found the root of my problem, but it might be too late to fix a lot of the damage. Unfortunately for me, I was using sex as a way of masking a problem that I had from when I was younger. I had suffered a great deal, which a childhood trauma was to blame for mostly. Anxiety was also another major issue, but what my therapist informed me of, has made me wish I sought help sooner.

Not only did I allow myself to go down a dangerous and destructive path, those around me who told me they loved me, also allowed me to do so. They may or may not have seen the problem for what it really was, but I know for a fact that some of them should have spoke up and had me seek help before now.

As a teenager, all I did was look for someone who would make me feel satisfied. That's the simple way of putting it really, because what I was actually doing, was creating this idea that anyone could fill the void I felt was in my life. When my therapist explained everything to me in detail, I had a moment of weakness. Not one like when a guy would promise to never cheat on me and I believed him, but an emotionally weak state. I had become so hardened over the years, thinking that I was protecting myself, when in reality I was making it more difficult for myself to heal the damage that was left from the trauma I suffered as a young child.

Learning that I was full of fear was rather confusing and hard to accept. I wasn't afraid of anything, I was a strong woman and knew how to take care of myself. But that's exactly what the fear had done to me though, it had allowed me to convince myself of the strength I possessed. No matter how emotionally shutdown I may have been, I was seeking those moments when I didn't have to worry, or fear anything at all.

When you have sex with someone, it is a very intimate practice and even more so when you orgasm. Reaching orgasm actually puts a person into a state of having no fear. Chemicals that are released allow us to be relaxed and be free of worry. It all makes sense now as to why I was jumping from person to person, seeking sex without any real connection. I was afraid of being left alone, but because my orgasms allowed me to be free of the fear that controlled me, I needed sex to help with part of the problem that was subconsciously controlling me.

All those times I fooled around with older men, having them pull my hair and smacking my ass as I moaned and took their cocks deep inside my pussy, I was just enjoying sex like any other human being. Sex feels good, that's a fact. The fear of being abandoned was blocking me from being intimate however and therefore I needed the sex to feel safe, but not the intimacy because I never wanted to lose it.

I was rather confused when my therapist first explained it and I'm sure I'm doing a horrible job of relaying what she said, but I get the gist of it now. Sex is meant to be intimate and a spiritual practice, but I used it as a form of sedative for so long that I was actually abusing myself with it. Knowing that I could have prevented all of this makes me wish I had known sooner, or been helped sooner. People around me probably thought I was fine because I never communicated any of my problems to them, but I did have one person who truly cared. He warned me and opened my eyes to what was wrong, and even though I agreed with him, I never took the road to recovery seriously enough.

Now, many years later, I find myself sitting where I should have been when I met him. I had something great, something special, something that comes once in a lifetime. It's gone now and I only have myself to blame. Pointing my finger at family, or friends who have known me all my life won't help now. All I can do is continue going to my appointments and hope that one day maybe I'll find that man again. He saw right through me, just as my therapist sees me now.

As she opens the door to invite me in for our weekly session, I know that I may have lost the man who I was meant to marry, but I'm convinced that fixing the damaged pieces of myself are the most important thing right now. I need to focus on myself like he once told me to do and hold onto the idea that maybe one day he'll return, seeing that I took his advice, turning into the woman I was meant to be – the potential one he saw in me, despite all my flaws.