Yes, it sounds disgusting.
Yes, I'm a sick ba$tard.
You'd think a sex addict couldn't stoop lower, particularly after so many years of good, strong recovery.
But what doesn't add up about the title of the post?
If you've been following me for long, you're used to "the hook". If you're new here, perhaps it's you who needs to read on--for some help.
I don't pretend to be a sex addict. I really am one. And a sick one at that.
But the Pu$$y and boy don't quite jive together, do they?
That's because I'm talking about one of my three felines.
It's been a rough week in the sex addict household. Motown Girl is officially pregnant with a single baby. We saw it's beautiful heart beating on an ultrasound about a week ago. Earlier today, she was told by her OB that she has "a lot of bleeding" and he implied that it looks "bad" and she needs to be on strict bed rest. He also took her off of aspirin--he's a fu(king genius for doing that, IMNSHO.
This is the same guy who helped us get pregnant with our first son, so he is a miracle worker of sorts, but he's notoriously bombastic in about everything he does, from telling his nurses what to do, to telling his patients the downside of their odds of getting pregnant, to interpreting test results in a catastrophizing and negative way. And I think he does this on purpose perhaps to let the people with poorer outcomes hit the ground a little more gently.
But I think it serves him more than it serves his patients. He doesn't look like such a bad guy if he says 2/3 of the efforts are going to fail and that some one's developed a complication that makes it "really likely" to have a miscarriage. Then if there is a miscarriage (G-d forbid), he's predicted it, he's given you the expected outcome, and he's in the clear to continue working with you and collecting your cash to try again. If you have a good outcome, then he looks like a saint, and you're ready to fork over more cash and/or tell others that the guy is a miracle worker.
Then there's MG. She's a smart girl, but more street smart than book smart (sorry honey--you've told me that yourself though). And, like my mother (and this is a compliment) she's decided to use her street smarts to serve her well in life, showing that the degrees don't make you who you are necessarily.
She's also a very anxious individual. That's more like my dad. Some of this manifests as an impetus to pre plan things in a good way, but another way it comes across is neurotic and borderline abusive where she announces over and over and over again what our plans for the afternoon, day, event, trip, life are and then, like a virus addled PC with Microsoft Outlook alarms, she repeats the time, the remaining time until [event coming up], and reminds me not so kindly what I have to do between now and then.
My gut reaction when I hear that, unfortunately for both of us, is to slow down and keep doing what I'm doing. That's an issue I should take up with my therapist and I won't expound on it further until MG corners me on it later this week, after she's read this.
So MG is anxious as H3LL about this pregnancy, she's very uncomfortable with some accompanying nausea, and she has to take these very painful steroid shots every night that her doc has placed her on to help with the in vitro process. Now I'm certain we're both grateful she's pregnant, and with that we're grateful for anything that has helped her become so, but what rattles my cage is that the steroids make MG seem like...well, it makes her seem like she's on steroids!
Ever hear of "roid rage"? Ever known someone who's been on steroids who's a body builder or seen one of those cable shows that illustrate the disastrous consequences of using steroids? Well, as I like to say, "it's that, but on steroids".
You get the picture.
MG's already got a physical disability that, although she's not one to admit it, has placed some limitations on her ability to easily chase after our 11 month old while keeping a small condo uncluttered and clean, and while trying to satisfy her sex addicted husband in a non sexual, non co dependent way. And she does better than probably most people would, under the circumstances. With literally one arm that's very limited in carrying and grasping and one leg that she has difficulty with a limp, weakness and balance compared to the other one, she's able to do more than most of us can with all of our limbs and faculties.
But not admitting her shortcomings and not asking for help has resulted in this place remaining cluttered, dirty, and disorganized. I'd realized quite a while ago that I just need to adopt certain things as my job, and I have to say I never did that well in my previous two marriages. But my problem is that I'd literally love to stay up all night, organize, clean, do laundry, and fold clothes, but I've go my full time job, and I've got my own passions, desires, addictions that hold me back. Some of the things that hold me back are pathological, like surfing the internet or watching TV or reading compulsively, along with overeating compulsively. Other things, like work and the endless administrative tasks that come with it, preclude me from doing as much for our home or kid. Also, I have the twins from the Ex that I see thrice on a bi monthly basis.
Add to that our limited funds from my demotion and our/my compulsive spending in the past, which gratefully has slowed down to a near trickle, and we're unable to easily afford the help we need to clean this place or, and this is why I brought all of this up, for us to get someone to help MG keep our kid cared for and her on the bed rest she allegedly needs.
My issue here is that we don't even know if our doc is overreacting for who knows what reason or if she's really threatened by the this situation.
My suggested plan of action was to have her get an ASAP ultrasound from another doctor and see what they say. She wants to wait a week and see where things go from here.
But what happens if, without a helper and me working full time, she overdoes it and loses the pregnancy? And what if she takes it easy and our home continues to implode with stacks of garbage, piles of cat $h*t and dirty diapers and with me stumbling around looking for clean clothes? I could lose it and decide, what the H3LL, why not act out sexually? It's worth it and I deserve it.
Not so fast...
I'm sleeping with my 7 y/o kitty cat, who's a boy, each night and he's giving me the purring and warmth that feels pretty good. My other cat, a little younger and dumber, but very cute, was just diagnosed with a $5000 work up/treatment ailment that may or may not shorten his life dramatically, and rather than freak out like I may have a few years ago, I've been very measured and I've been giving him love and support and he's been staying healthy.
My food, not so good. My finances, not so good mostly due to the food which costs quite a bit.
I'm holding it together, sort of, but I want to do better.
I definitely need the help of my Higher Power as there ayn no way I'm gonna do this alone.
"Thy will, not mine, be done...."
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