wordzeck

[wordzeck]

the present

“The humans live in time but our Enemy destines them to eternity. He therefore, I believe wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time which they call the present. For the present is the point at which time touches eternity... He would therefore have them continually concerned either with eternity (which means being concerned with Him) or with the present-- either meditating of their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiving the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure.” 

-Screwtape 

Approximately 100 days sober. I’ve been sexually active and committed to my now girlfriend. I told her I love her. I’m not too sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure it was the right move. There is a lot of weight on the relationship right now. I know subconsciously I look to her for validation. I’m also looking to work for validation. My faith has almost completely transferred to a world that I can grab for myself. It’s been a terrifying state of mind. The stakes are high, and there is a clock that I’ve never considered before. 

I wish I was a responsible adult. I’m crippled by the fact that I don’t support myself. I fear working at some boring mindless job. And I’m starting to get annoyed at my lack of money. The so called “superficial” is currently drowning me. I still crave the past in this fucked up way. When I hear people who accomplished things in school, my self confidence drops through the floor. When I look at the apartment that my girlfriend pays for herself, I die a little inside. I’m so obsessed with who I’m not. I look to everything to try and reinstall some fragment of hope. Whether it is a coding class or a new job posting-- I’m always discontent with who the present “me” is. 

Sometimes I think that God is an excuse for people to not take responsibility for their own lives. This is obviously my very opinionated projection, but it definitely seems to ring true. We don’t turn to faith when the world is treating us well, we turn to him out of poverty, depression, and anxiety. We can wrap up all of our failures in a convenient “god” bag. I fucking hate that I can’t feel fulfillment. This eerie fucking cloud follows me everywhere. Even when I’m with this girl, it still doesn’t feel all that great. She makes me happy, but I also am plagued with inadequacy. It’s a fucking double edged sword, and I hate it. Why can’t i just be happy? Why can’t I just appreciate the moment? Nothing lasts for me. Nothing ever lasts for me. My appreciation for the present is pathetic, and I feel like I’ve lost God. 

Seriously, are you out there? Is this the point in life where I give up on you? Or at least give up on my previous idea of you. Do I find some new sense of independence from here? Is humanism and self seeking my new solution? Do I now have to accept mortality? I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I know that my default setting is sadness, and I know that sometimes I’m distracted from it. What do you want from me God? 

I don’t even know what I want from myself, or from this life for that matter. I’m not sure where contentment will find me. It’s hard to live in the present and not throw up on myself. 

[wordzeck]

1 month 1 week

Its been a month since I’ve visited a massage parlor, and it’s been a week since i’ve looked at porn. Things are at a steady state for me right now. Well almost everything. I got my blood tested today, because I’ve been freaking out about std’s again. I find out in 4-5 business days if there is anything fucking breeding in my body. I have one job offer from my last internship, and i’ve been pushed to the final round of interviews with another company. I’ll be honest, I’ve been craving staying in AZ more recently. So the job this is a distant stressor. I “graduate” (just attend convocation) in a month. I have A’s in all of my classes. I’m not too worried about money at the moment. My internship has been going well. And I’ve really enjoyed my time with the girl I’m seeing. 

I feel like shit nonetheless. I don’t know if it’s depression or a fucking disease at this point. Maybe it’s relapse? That would be comforting if it was. Compulsion has definitely quieted itself since I’ve started “dating” I guess. But I swear I can’t get any god damn peace. I’m still terrified of everything. I skipped last weeks meeting in order to study for a test, so maybe things will look up tomorrow night. I haven’t been “in touch” with God by any means. I’ve done some pretty cool lyric writing, but that’s about it. I know I’ll get messed up if things end with this girl, but I can’t tell if I’m messed up right now because of it. I don’t want to make her the center of my life, because I don’t know what that life is yet. And I’m scared I’ll already drop everything just to hold her. The physical affection is a fucking head rush. I haven’t intimately cuddled with a human being in like 6 years. I’ve been distant from my friends because I know my pursuing her is kind of “against the rules”. I’ve honestly felt dead inside when I’m alone these past two weeks. I haven’t been focusing on school work, but I can bullshit my way to A’s with ease. 

There is a shanty town built up in our back alley. Those people have horrible physical circumstances, but I don’t feel a damn thing for them. I’ve been consumed with myself for a minute now. Maybe the fact of college coming to an end has been fucking with me. I don’t know. I swear God is trying to fuck with me through this Bible app on my phone. The verse of the day came from 2 Timothy chapter 3. It spoke of the “dangers of the last days”. People will only love themselves and their money. We will “betray our friends, be reckless, be puffed up with pride, and love pleasure rather than God”. “They will act religious, but they will reject the power that could make them godly.” 

The actual selected text was verses 16-17: “All scripture is inspired by God and it is useful to teach us what is true and to make us realize what is wrong with our lives. It corrects us when we are wrong and teach us to do what is right. God uses it to prepare and equip his people to do every good work.” Obviously this kind of shit sends my head spinning. Am I just with this girl for the pursuit of pleasure. If that was the case, then I’m sure my efforts would all wither up in vain. But it would be so shitty to say “hey I can’t date you anymore because you’re not a Christian even though I’m not so sure what I am”. But do I only think that I’m unsure because I’m with her? Or do I only have doubts because my world view is all fucked up and it can’t be used as an objective lens? 

A buddy of mine just confided in me that he had sex with his girlfriend for the first time and now he is in complete turmoil. I couldn’t help but thinking “what’s the big deal?”. The only other thought racing around my head was “wow Christianity really fucked a lot of us up”. Wouldn’t it be better to be fucking the person you’re committed to rather than consuming countless hours of porn and purchasing sexual favors on the streets? Obviously those two realities can coexist, but if you were able to systematically root out/avoid the latter--then is that so bad? And I get that I am totally biased in this matter. Of course I want to sleep with the girl i’ve been seeing. But I’ve been so god damn conflicted about it. Is it just my addict trying to sneakily get his fix? Or am I just so distraught about the idea because my religion has left no wiggle room? Am I looking at all of this with any intellectual integrity? I have no fucking clue. 

But I’ve been a week sober from porn again. I guess if I start acting out with porn, or some of my darker shit, my dilemma will solve itself. I feel really lost and alone right now. I guess I should call my sponsor, but I know he won’t necessarily understand. He is all for sexually active relationships. The guys in my bible study--not so much. I know I have the final say, but I gotta admit I don’t fucking trust myself given my previous history. God, if you’re out there, can you just fucking help me? I feel like shit right now. 

[wordzeck]

the girl

Hey. It’s been a while.

I met somebody. Well I didn’t just meet them. I’ve known them for awhile. I’m really happy when I’m with her. I just feel like a normal person who’s found someone. I guess that’s what I like most about us right now. It feels so normal. I haven’t just held someone that I hadn’t met through some dating app (or at a party) for like 6 years now. It’s nice. 

But I feel so uneasy--for a lot of reasons. I texted her in a moment of complete loneliness (I texted two other girls as well). I was looking for one night stands from the other girls, but I asked her out on a date. We went on that date, and I was consumed by what she was wearing. But I also enjoyed just talking to her. And now I really enjoy talking to her. She knows about my history, but I don’t think she knows just how dark it has been in my head. I know that kind of stuff comes with time, but I feel like a fraud around her. I love playing the charming witty guy. I honestly love the person I become around her... it feels like an older version of myself that I haven’t seen in quite some time. 

But then there is you. I haven’t talked to you in quite some time. My stomach has been twirling when I’m alone, because I’m scared of everything-- money, health, my future, and my happiness. Because right now I’m not happy. I love the fact that this girl is in to me, and I love how she makes me feel. But if I try to make her the center of my life I know I’ll come crashing down. I just haven’t felt the same. I’ve been uneasy, and I don’t know if it’s because I don’t know how to handle my feelings or because I’ve been out of touch with you. And maybe I’m scared to move out of the state. I’m scared of a lot of things. The unknown honestly terrifies me. Where are you in all of this God? 

That’s the other thing. She doesn’t know the extent of my relationship with you. Hell, I don’t even know the extent of my relationship with you. It has oscillated so much in the past 2 years. I don’t know if she is skewing my view of you, or if you are skewing my view of her. Don’t you understand? I’m terrified by the idea that you aren’t who I think you are. I’m also terrified that I’ll sabotage every good thing that comes my way because I have some fucked up myth that was drove into my head at a young age. But I know the idea of you got me through a lot of dark shit. You are so comfortable to me, and I am terrified by things that make me uncomfortable. She’s just a girl, and we’ve only been on four dates, but she is real--and I’m not so sure about you. 

But my stomach has been turning at the idea of giving you up. I know plenty of people have done it, but I don’t know if I’m that strong. I’ll have to change every thought. I’ll have to cope with death in a new fucking horrible way. I’ll have to contemplate meaning and love through new lenses. Don’t you understand how terrible that will be? This girl and I also have a mutual friend who is really in to her. I haven’t told him that I’ve been seeing here, because you know--I’m terrified about hurting people (and of people hating me). And I know this girl isn’t enough for me. I know I need to figure my shit out, and, I hate how cliche this is going to sound, I need to find out who I am. But I also just want that normalcy. This affection is addicting. And it’s not an affection that I have to keep telling myself is there, like yours. I am able to see it. But unlike your supposed affection, I’m terrified of losing it. My self worth is hanging in the balance here. I’ve been able to fail you and run back home an uncountable amount of times now, but she is not able to show the same supposed grace. My heart is restless, and I don’t like it. I’m unhinged, and I don’t have any fucking peace about anything. But I love being with a girl who I don’t see as just a body. I like being with her. It has been a while since I’ve felt anything like this so it’s definitely possible that I don’t know how to handle these feelings in a healthy and paced way. 

Can I have you both? I don’t know. 

It will be a month from this Monday since the last time I visited a massage parlor. I’m probably 4 or 5 days sober from pornography. My sponsor told me to focus specifically on the paying for sexual acts for at least two months before I attack porn. I’ve been sober from the darker shit, but it seems like it’s only circumstantial sobriety. I’ve been busy, and I’ve been worked up with the rest of life. Maybe I’m so distraught because I don’t have healthier coping mechanisms (or I still can’t face the reality of my situation). 

[wordzeck]

my_pslam

Are you really out there? Are you here right now in some abstract but meaningful way? I can’t tell. I have no system of gauging you. My compulsions are here for me. Sure they cause me to bleed, but at least I can feel them. Maybe that’s a darker reason why I press into addiction. Addiction displays all of the attributes I’ve always hoped you would exhibit. I can’t touch it, but I can feel its presence. It is more powerful than any man made construct that I have come into contact with. It gives immediate payouts for my worship. It will aways be there for me. Sure it is cruel, but it is always there. Its words absolutely baffle me, but at least it has a voice to be heard. It is horrible, but it is there.

I might understand why those little wooden idols were so damn enticing. At least they’re predictable, and you can hold them. That’s probably why Jesus himself was so enticing. You could grab his robe. You could see his facial expressions, hear his voice, & feel his hands on your blind eyes. I know I’m supposed to be content with his story. I know I’m supposed to filled by his words—as if every time I read them he’s speaking directly to me. But it doesn’t feel that way. If you’re real, why won’t you let it feel that way? Why do you want me here? Why do you want me in this dullness, this numbness, and this silence? Does Israel still need 40 years in the desert for her mistakes? I was just a kid. How was I supposed to know I had poison on my plate? I didn’t know dad’s gun was loaded. I didn’t know that the apple meant death. How was Sunday school supposed to prepare me for this? What sermon on evangelism or tithing was supposed to prepare me for this? Am I some modern day Job? I want that to make me feel special (and it kind of does), but it still sucks most of the time. Does some devil want me to curse your name? Is this some game I am unaware of?

I’ll repeat my sentiments from my last entry—I don’t want to hold on to my life. It is a lonely and painful responsibility. Please just help me. I am lost, and I have no idea what to do from here. There were men who could sit in prison and praise you. I can’t even go through a workday without having my foundations shaken. I need you to be more than a world view. Where are you? What do I do now? Please help me. I can smell my heart rotting in my chest, and I can only stomach the aroma for so much longer. I want to get my mind right. I want to regain some sort of footing. My days have lost their joy. Things I say don’t bother me really do. I am lonely and tired. I don’t see you. Please call off your plagues. I surrender. Return this blood to drinkable water. Restore me if you can. Prop me up on solid ground. Don’t turn away from me. Rescue me. Give me rest. Allow me to experience peace. Stop the tides for only a moment. Don’t destroy your child. Restore my sight, heal my legs, and allow me to enter your temple. Make my life into a pleasing aroma. Allow me to experience your love. Cut out my tumor. Burn me alive, and rise me up again. Take this life from me. I don’t want it anymore. Please just do something with it. End me now or hold me forever. I can’t take it anymore. Respond to my screams. Pull my hip out of its place. Wake me up. Beat me over my head. Shake me conscious. Break my nose and bruise my eyes. Interact with me. Stop my heart. Shock me. Make me tremble. Knock me to the ground. Take my vision, and stab my side. Terrify me with your waves. Scare the living hell out of me. Burn everything I own. Squander my ambition, and rip away my comfort. Just for fuck’s sake—interact with me. Don’t leave me alone, and take my life.

[wordzeck]

nothing

It’s a cruel irony that I find myself in. I see the things of material as joyless and shallow constructs, yet I devour them at any cost. I feel nothingness in my bones, but I live among people who claim a living hope with every other breath. I speak of faith, specifically the Christian faith, but I apathetically utter its “truths”. I’ve heard this idea of finding excuses for getting one’s fix. Whether it is a nagging spouse or a bad day—we addicts can use these things to justify acting out. I didn’t think I had an excuse, but over the course of the past week I realized my thoughts were flawed. God has been my excuse. When I tell myself he doesn’t exist in some meaningful way then what I do, and my life, doesn’t matter. And it is all too easy to tell myself that God doesn’t exist in a meaningful way. My most recent pothole has been hearing others talk about him. They can get such specific a specific “word” from him. A word that dictates their career, their relationships, and even their geographical location (the most upsetting of the three for me). I can’t get a single murmur from him. He is silent. He is trapped in a book that I force myself to read from time to time. He is all knowing, all powerful, and all too quiet. 

I know every inch of hell in excruciating detail, but I haven’t the slightest idea of heaven’s aesthetic. Jesus Christ doesn’t live inside of me-- I don’t even think he sits in my empty passenger seat. He doesn’t move over for the hooker I invite into my car. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to cut my brake line. I speak to an empty sky. I write into notebooks that will eventually erode. My tears dissipate into the dust. My screaming at night is unheard. 

You are a brutal mystery, my God. I can’t tell if I’m dangerously close or purposelessly wandering. Your truth is fragile, and it is bonded to indecisive, inconsistent, human hearts. You, in this moment, are nothing more than some abstract collection of thoughts that I can bend to my own will. I can’t give you my life. I can’t give it, because I honestly don’t know how to. If I change my actions, then I have accomplished nothing. It means nothing. If I smile more it is pointless. If I go to church on a Sunday, then I have accomplished just as much as listening to a sermon in a mall. I don’t want my life. I actually despise holding on to it. It burns my hands, but I have nowhere to throw it. I can’t die to myself, I can’t carry a cross, and I certainly am unable to resist “this world”. I really do like the idea of you taking my cup. The sentiment is honestly beautiful, but it is only a sentiment. 

I want the peace and the hope that your book talks about all the time. I am never at peace. Even in silence my heart is restless. I have a hurricane in my heart. Nothing seems right, and this idea of hope seems to want to break through like a sunrise. Your truth is on the tip of my tongue. I can almost enunciate the words, but they seem to just barely slip my mind. Am I close? I get in stupid arguments with friends, with family, and with strangers. I claim what the church should and shouldn’t be. But in all honesty I don’t care. I don’t care how the church spends its money, or what they teach. I don’t care who gets elected, and I don’t care who’s lives can be dramatically affected. I am selfish. I want my cure first. Can’t you just give me my cure? I clearly am not grateful for the status quo. I don’t appreciate my money, my intelligence, my family, my friends, or any other good gifts--that only come from you. I am a wealthy man who has nothing to spend his riches on. I cry in a cold castle every night. I just want my cure. 

In my heart and my soul Lord I give You control Consume me from the inside out, Lord, let justice and praise Become my embrace To love you from the inside out

[wordzeck]

double.digits

I’m 10 days sober. 

After my first bout with recovery I didn’t realize that it would be so hard to say that again. It easily took 4-5 months to make it into the double digits again. I say thin not to be “right minded”, but this number honestly doesn’t give me life. I will definitely celebrate it/proclaim it aloud, because I know that it is an inherently good thing. But it’s literally just a number, and it doesn’t walk with me at night.

The 12 step group has been really helpful. It’s nice to have such a topic specific release of thought and emotion. I have a sponsor now. Having him hasn’t been ground-shaking, but it’s been good to have someone to tether me to the group. My experience with the 12 step group hasn’t really broken into “deep” emotional/inspirational territory, but it has helped me get a little practical with addiction and myself. I’m still the same ol’ Zach in a lot of ways--i’m just doing slightly better at managing compulsions. It’s strange to reflect on where I was last year. I felt deeply plugged with God. I felt like all of the things I knew to say also made sense... the soundbites sunk in. I remember listening to worship music and being both broken and uplifted by the Gospel-centric lyrics. I don’t feel like I really turn to God these days. It’s just all been strange, and it’s all been food for thought. 

I’ve talked to a lot of people in the past year who “don’t go to church anymore”. They too don’t seem to turn to God, but they aren’t troubled by it. They are still troubled about something, but faith guilt doesn’t make the cut (at least that is what they proclaim aloud). I’m not worried about them, but I am drawn to them. I am attracted to their honesty, or at least attempts at honesty. I find it a pleasing aroma when they know the right things to say, but they know they don’t want to say those things--so they don’t say them. But my complacency seems to be at the root of their distaste of faith. Maybe God is ok with the distaste, and maybe he knows we get sick of the marathon. Maybe he calls us sheep because he knows we’ll always find a way out of the keep. Maybe he knows we’ll get 2 months sober, and then turn it all in for prostitution and massage parlors. Maybe he knows we will rejoice in sobriety that we don’t accredit to him. Maybe he knows that we don’t want to say the “right” things, because we don’t honestly believe in the right things all of the time. Maybe he knows we are flawed, and weak, and feeble. Maybe he needs us to lose sometimes. Maybe he knows that, even if he is the only hope, we don’t always find hope in him. And maybe, just maybe, that is ok. Maybe it’s all going according to plan. I’m not too sure about any of it, but if you are really helping me get sober God--then thank you. 

[wordzeck]

can I give You my shakes

I felt like I had no floor today. I know what should be inherently good and wrong, but it doesn’t seem to be real. A lot of things don’t seem to be real. I’ve become desensitized to my actions and their consequences. And my idea of God has been turned on it’s head so many times. I hear people talk about the Spirit leading them through their mundane activities, and God seems like a set of well meaning ideas. But sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes the Bible smells like it’s been saturated in the only truth there is, and other times it just seems like a collection of words--just like any other book. I meet people who breathe the name of Jesus in every other word, and I meet people who can go a lifetime without ever uttering his time. 

I’ve lived life acting like God wants my perfection, but thinking that he gives me a ton of leeway. I preface all of my thoughts with terms like pride, grace, and humility. But in reality I don’t always live by those ideals. I can go weeks without having an “intimate” encounter with God. It’s not until I’m at my wit’s end that I ever pour out my heart into an empty room, or to a silent sky. I went to a massage parlor last night. It was business as usual. I felt lonely and ashamed. I hated everything and everyone. 

I honestly don’t know. That’s my best answer. I can’t guarantee anyone anything. Today I am annoyed, and I am lonely. I don’t know who you are God. I don’t know where exactly to look. I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know what to think. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want out of each breath. I don’t know what my foundation is. I don’t know where the floor is. I am certain I have a problem, and I know the shakes will eventually come again. So can I give you my shakes? I’m bothered by the fact that I am not better, and that I can’t be done with this. I’m bothered that I can’t just lean into some easy comfort and forget the world. I’m bothered that you keep trying to wake me up. I’m bothered that I don’t hear you. It’s all bothersome. 

So will you at least take my shakes. I’m not asking you to take them away from me--because I don’t know if that is possible. But will you take them? In whatever dumb poetic way you usually do things. I’m supposed to be focusing on the first 2 steps in the process. So here it is. I will come to believe in a Power greater than myself, and I will come to believe that you can restore me to sanity. I just ask that you will be there to take my shakes. Whatever that looks like. Please take my loneliness and my pain. I’m not asking for these things to be gone--I just need someone along for the ride. Your Son and his story don’t bring me what I claim they can. I hope with time that can change, but I don’t know. I will keep falling. I’ll keep getting up. And I can say--that for at least this time--I’ll start walking towards you again. Whatever the fuck that means. Just be there ok? 

[wordzeck]

fear_ful/less

Tonight I’ll be 5 days sober. I haven’t been 5 days for sober for some months now (probably 4 months at minimum). I have yet to regain the skillset of resisting taking “visual drinks” of women. The guys in my 12 steps group call that process victimizing women. It still hasn’t really set in that the men in that group are all real. I see them for only an hour every week, but they go on existing outside of our meetings. Many of them have been sober for years now. They don’t necessarily talk about Christ, but they are easily sone of the most honest and vulnerable men that I have ever met. I have no idea what my future will look like with these guys. I know there is a ton to learn from them, and I know I’ll be there next Tuesday night. 

I have a new predicament. My sin is no longer just a source of “dark poetry”. Starting next summer, if it is still with me, it will be an even more apparent cancer. I graduate this May. I’ll get a full time job, and I’ll attempt to start a career for myself. I somehow have not yet been arrested. I could have easily been thrown in jail this summer. I was picking up and dropping off women on the side of the road. When I was younger, I feared what others would do to me, but now I fear what I will do to others. When left unchecked--alone--I become a predator. I’ve always viewed myself as a victim in all of this, but the truth is I have victimized so many in my refusal to take responsibility. 

I’m scared that sobriety isn’t a pleasant aroma. Unless I am kept busy, I slide back to my fucking default mode. I want to be attracted to a good life, but I just can’t seem to desire it. And it is absolutely devastating when I get close to enjoying good things, but then I decide to throw it away. I don’t find life worthwhile unless I’m in some sort of spotlight--unless i’m being praised. Does everyone have these same dark thoughts in the recess of their consciouses. Are they just better at repressing it? 

The first time I tried to tackle my addiction I invented the rationality that everyone had the same problem. I told myself that every man would eventually be in my shoes. I just got here quicker. I’m not so sure of that anymore. I’ve met plenty of men who aren’t honest with themselves, but those same men don’t all have the same problems as I do. 

I have to call someone every time my mind flares up with some new crazy compulsion. I have to talk to someone every day about this shit, but I don’t desire those conversations anymore. I still love my isolation. I’m scared that I won’t get better. I’ve never really said/thought that before, but right now it’s true. 

[wordzeck]

24

I’ll be two days sober when I go to bed tonight. I attended my second SAA meeting last night. It went well, but I still didn’t ask for a sponsor. I guess I kind of got nervous, or I just didn’t feel like I deserved to ask for one among the room yet (which is totally not how it works). I got my first chip (I was supposed to get it at the last meeting). It’s a 24 hour chip which doubles as the “first meeting” chip and a supposed 24 hours of sobriety. It has something called the serenity prayer inscribed on the back of it: 

“God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference.” 

I’m in a familiar space. I’m not “doing bad” by any means. I had a good day. I was engaged by my professors, I ate food with some good friends, and I had nothing too stressful occur. But it’s nighttime now, and I don’t feel ok. I feel like I don’t have interest in things (even writing this). I either have to force myself to do something, and I hope for my “joy” to wake up at some point. I feel tired and uninspired. 

I’ve started to realize my predicament. I have a default mode, and it’s my addiction. This is obvious (but sometimes I still forget). My best defense, to date, has been the ability to hide in the Gospel. If God is “alive” to me, then I can place my hope in him. But sometimes he doesn’t interest me in the slightest. Sometimes the prospect of recovery doesn’t interest me in the slightest. Hope in a future doesn’t interest me in the slightest. You get the gist. 

I haven’t “officially” started the steps. But in step 2 I’m supposed to start reaching for a “Higher power”. I’m eventually supposed to even trust him with bringing me to the end of this whole process. 

On top of all of this, I can’t help but notice that I am lonely. I want a woman’s affection, but not in a healthy way. So I’m between a rock and a hard place--to put it simply. I know I’m not in a place to healthily handle affection, but I crave it like the dickens. 

The guys in the meeting keep throwing around this phrase “a new life”. I should want that new life, but, in this moment, I don’t crave it. I’ve prayed many times to be “woken up”. I know how to cheaply get my heart racing, but my prayer is for sustained, dare I say, “good” palpitations. I want to fall in love with the simple things. I want to enjoy time with my family and close friends. I want to enjoy working towards an interesting career. I want to have joy in my faith. But, in this moment, I still feel like I’m asleep at the wheel. 

My goal, for the moment, is to make it to my next meeting without a relapse. I haven’t had a full week of sobriety for a few months now. Sometimes I feel “distant” from life. It comes in these weird moments where I don’t associate my inner dialogue with who I actually am in the real world. This is some stoner shit I know, but it’s the best way I can describe it. It may be a part of the reason why I am able to act out in truly horrific fashion. I guess consequences don’t seem real to me, because I don’t seem real at times. 

Ok enough with all of that abstract business. It’s back to simply telling my desires “no”. Easy enough right? 

[wordzeck]

rand_var

Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again--rejoice! Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do. Remember, the Lord is coming soon.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. 

-Philippians 4:4-7

I’m one day sober today. I fricked up with porn two nights ago and yesterday morning. I have a small appreciation for acting out on the internet as opposed to in real life. One, I don’t have the money for it, and, two, I don’t deal with as much stomach churning depression. But I’m concerned for the way that I do look at porn. It’s much more than just some “release” at this point. It’s absolute consumption. I can’t look at porn just once in a night. For some reason it has to be 3 or 4 times, or sometimes more. 

Also my sister caught me smoking yesterday. I’ve become more bold with where/when I choose to smoke. I don’t know if I want to get caught or not. Hearing her tell me to stop smoking was a definite entrenching upon my pride. I didn’t want to talk about it, or own up to any “wrong doing”. I just kept saying that I was “going through something”. This is more of a tangent. For some reason I can’t envision a future without me smoking. Living seems to slightly dull without the ability to have my “deep” experiences outside with a cigarette in my hand. I know I have to eventually quit, but I guess I don’t want to. Maybe my experience with smoking is profoundly reflective of my relationship with sex or some shet like that. 

I’ve been thinking about praying every morning. I’ve done it once so far (today actually). As soon as I wake up, I ask God to help me today. I mostly ask him to help me stay sober, and I assume that prayer will eventually evolve over time. I think that’s all I have for now. 

[wordzeck]

acting out

In the 12 step program they call breaking your sobriety “acting out” or “relapse”. I’ve acted out a lot in my pseudo-adulthood, and I’ve found infinite reasons/rationalities to set up the framework for acting out. It can be stress, hunger, loneliness, anger, anxiety, insecurity, sadness, regret, and anything else under the sun. This guy in the meeting said something that I didn’t realize I would dwell on so much this week. He kept saying that this thing, as powerful and horrible as it is, is all in my head. Acting out doesn’t “come out of nowhere”. It’s not something I walk in to on accident. It exists only in me, and it can only be materialized in me. 

I’m writing this because I feel the “seed” of acting out asking for water. I’m currently doing some ad hoc work for my old boss. This work sometimes includes, what I’m doing today, running an empty store with few customers walking in and out. In silence my compulsions have the opportunity to make suggestions. I can’t help but recall my experiences at the massage parlor this last Sunday. Those same experiences made me feel dirty right after they occurred, but now, in this moment, I can’t help feel enticed by them. The sensations, the visuals, and the highs-- they all seem worthwhile in this moment. They seem worth the risk, worth the emotional turmoil, and worth the loss of my mere 4 days of sobriety. 

It’s all in my head, and it wants to come out in to the real world. All I have to do is give it more of my time, more of my money, and more of my life. I have the freedom to feed it, and, as a result, I have the paradoxical freedom to enslave myself. I texted my brother’s already saying that I’ll need a phone call before I get off of work. 

I talked to Jess last night about a lot of stuff, but I mentioned the idea of feeling like a fraud in faith. The fact that it doesn’t always seem to sink in feels wrong at times. It just seems like I keep telling myself “you gotta just believe”, and I’ve always felt more intelligent than answers like that. And the only reason I’ve been able to keep saying that simple phrase is because I want it to break my addiction. I feel like I only approach Christ because I want to be healed, and not because I want a relationship with him. Not because I’m grateful for the cross, or because I recognize him for who he is. Not because I want to live life on his terms, or sacrifice for him, or thank him, or love him. I feel like, in my most honest moments, I just want him to fix me. Jess pointed me towards the story of the woman who reached for Jesus’ robe:

19 So Jesus and his disciples got up and went with him. 20 Just then a woman who had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding came up behind him. She touched the fringe of his robe, 21 for she thought, “If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.”

22 Jesus turned around, and when he saw her he said, “Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well.” And the woman was healed at that moment.

Maybe my view of Christ isn’t the most theologically sound at the moment, but maybe that’s ok. Maybe my “faith will make me well”, and maybe in the process I’ll find that oh-so-coveted personal relationship with a living, loving, and ruling Jesus. 

[wordzeck]

just this day

“For some of us, almost everything seemed more powerful than we were, but in a negative way--oppressing us, and preventing us from being happy or free. In contrast to this negative belief, working the Second Step allows us to accept the possibility of a Power that can free us from the bondage of our disease and restore us to a life of sanity and fulfillment.”

“And in time we discover that our faith grows not so much from a set of abstract beliefs, but from daily practical experiences of recovery and healing, as observed in others and in ourselves.” 

I went to my first SAA meeting last night. It was honestly great. I’m cautious of placing too much stock in some key solution, but there was a distant note of hope that I heard last night. Without going into too much detail, I have to keep the meeting anonymous, I had one big takeaway. There was a guy there who had a lot of similar experiences to that of my own. Everyone there wrestled with the same feelings, core issues, and thought processes. But this guy just found himself in specific corners that I know all-too-well. At the beginning of the meeting he informed another member that he just celebrated 2 years of sobriety. That was the first time that I saw sexual sobriety in person. I looked it in the eyes, and I heard it’s voice. It was nothing like what I expected, but in a weird way it was so much more. 

I don’t know if this guy will be my sponsor, or even a major chapter in my life. But I am grateful, in this moment, for being able to see sobriety with my own eyes.  

[wordzeck]

soothing

I had a conversation with a friend about politics today. I’ve heard my fair share of arguments over different ideologies. I’ve partaken in many of these arguments. I’ve partaken in a lot of arguments. I don’t know why we like to argue. It’s almost as if I go into conversations with this prideful notion that I am correct, and you are not. Anyways, my friend started to share his ideology, and I was angered. I quickly shut him off and I ranted on about how pointless these arguments. I raved about how we keep talking about things we don’t really care about. We just keep arguing to distract ourselves from whatever grim realities are in our lives. I got heated. I can get worked up, but this time I was angry. 

In my argument of why these arguments are pointless I used an example that took my emotions by surprise. When I got back from Omaha (I was there for 3 months) I went to dinner with my parents. On the car ride up my mother was asking me questions, but my father kept talking about the news. He kept using the terms republicans and liberals. He spoke as if he was being interviewed on cable news. He didn’t once ask me about my summer. There was no “hey how was Omaha?”. He didn’t ask how I like my summer. If he did, I already forgot because it must have been a dialogue that was too insignificant. I rant on about how I hate political arguments mostly to serve my own pride. I am able to take a “position” without doing any research. And I am able to take a unique enough position that people can view me as “deep” and “original”. But this time I think I was just pissed. I was angry that the only interactions with my father these past few years have revolved around money, school, and news cycles. 

I’ve been drowning in poison, and I can only speak to my dad about bullshit. I’ve been sobbing over addiction, and I only talk to my mother about morality and the Church. I’ve been uncomfortable around my family ever since I hired my first prostitute. I think that’s because I don’t think they can really handle it. 

I medicate my woes, and I got hooked on my pills. I’ll admit, life loses its luster very easily for me. At one moment a family, a career, and a future all sound so sweet, and at the next moment I couldn’t care less. I see attractive women, and I want everything from them. I want their attention, their laughter, and their physical affection. I want them to find me worthwhile, and deep, and interesting. I’m clearly looking for salvation from them, but it never delivers. There is something deeply wrong with me (I think there is something deeply wrong with all of us). Some days I fucking hate the medication I have stumbled upon, and other days I start to grasp, what I think is, God somehow proving himself to me. I want my demons to become poetry. I want to recite them to inspire awe in others, and I want none of the consequences. I want my freedom, and my success, and my life (I purposely used my to indicate selfishness). I sometimes think God is purposely holding that all back because I’m some sort of “special project”. 

I often think highly of myself. I’ve played around with the thought that I am the most authentic person that I know. Like I’m some sort of special “bad” Christian. Like I’m closer to God through my admission of horrible sin. This is all just my pride talking. If no one were compelled to listen to me, I would be a dead man. 

I know now that at the end of the day I want to be soothed, and I keep choosing really shitty medication. I pray that I can really come to know that His burden is light and His yoke is easy. 

I’m 2 days sober, and tomorrow I attend my first SAA meeting. Please sustain me God. I’ll leave off with a verse I read today. 

For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.

-Philippians 2:13

[wordzeck]

votd

For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him.

-Philippians 2:13

[wordzeck]

attempt 2

Today I had an interaction with a cute girl. She was a Christian, she was babysitting, and I know nothing else about her. It turns out she asked about me. This immediately lit up the part in my brain that houses pride. It’s funny how such a simple thing like someone finding you attractive can so easily invigorate your whole day. I guess for someone who craves approval it’s not that odd. It dawned on me that someone my age is usually interested in “getting out there”. It’s strange looking back on the last couple of years and recognizing that has not been a goal of mine. Many males my age desire that affection that can come from dating someone. But I have not had that desire. My desires have been altered at a deep level. It’s late right now and I have my first day of school tomorrow so I’ll end this post pretty soon. 

Yesterday I went to a massage parlor, and I watched porn (on and off) until 3 in the morning. The two days before that, I engaged in cruising and some slight pornography. I have my first real SAA meeting this Tuesday night. I’m not feeling any deep shame, but I also haven’t really deeply discussed the past 3 days with anyone. My reality is that I have a disease, and, in this moment, I wan to get rid of it. I’m not sure what this next year will look like. I went to that parlor without being in control of my body. It only happened yesterday, but it feels like a distant memory. This might be because I have school starting tomorrow. 

I don’t know when I’ll date someone. I feel that desire boiling up, but I don’t know what kind of “sobriety streak” I would want to engage in dating. I obviously have to find someone who will courageously navigate all of my crap. I don’t know what that will look like. I don’t know a lot of things at this point. 

But I have had this idea kind of spark up in the past week. It might be pride/optimism spurred, or it might be an urging of the Holy Spirit in me. I am currently a poisonous disaster to myself, but I believe I can one day be a powerful tool for the Kingdom. I have experience with some dark crap, and I have been empowered by my friends and the Gospel to talk about it. I remember being approached by this one younglife guy a few years back. He was looking for some guidance on stuff he’d been feeling guilty about. He said he wanted to talk to me because I was a guy who was a Christian who had “experience with the world”. Those weren’t his exact words, but I think the point is clear. 

I’m not too sure how I got here, but I now know that I’m at a place that not everyone is willing to go to. I’ve seen the dark corners. They are more than ghost stories to me. I’ve always been reluctant to talk about the “devil”, but maybe he knows what kind of trajectory I’m on (a trajectory that I am still uncertain of). I read through some old journals from my early college years and this phrase kept coming up. I kept praying that God would “use me”. I don’t know a lot of things, but I’m pretty damn certain this new skill set of mine is somewhat useful. 

[wordzeck]

the act of loving Christ

Those who accept my commandments and obey them are the ones who love me. And because they love me, my Father will love them. And I will love them and reveal myself to each of them. 

John 14:21 

I am taking a break from steps progression today. I don’t have a particular timeline, but I felt as if it would be wrong to blow through a step a day. I still wanted to write today. So my topic will be on, you guessed it, loving Christ. I listened to a Timothy Keller sermon today, and he spoke on the idea of a living hope. This hope was, you guessed it, Christ. A couple of definitions first. Suffering, according to the sermon, is the process of losing (or the stripping away) of things you value/store your hope in. His claim was that we eventually lose anything that we place our hope in: beauty, success, loved ones, money, possessions, and life itself. His claim was that the only hope that can stand the test of time, the only eternal hope, is the living Christ. This hope wasn’t that we now believe that we have some ethereal mansion waiting in the future.  It was instead the hope that we have our status with God secured. It was that God looks at us, he only sees the righteousness of Christ, and no power of hell could ever step interfere.

These were all things that I have heard, spoke, and tried to act out in my life. But TK posed an idea of how to make these truths a personal reality-- how to make them “click”. He suggested that we love Christ in the present. My hope in God’s truth has failed me in the past, but I guess i’ve never placed my hope in a “living Christ”. I have no idea what that looks like. Tim Keller suggested I pray for help with the idea-- that’s probably not a bad idea. 

This feels super “Christian-y” already. Jesus I pray that I can come to know you. I pray that I can come to understand your actions. I pray that I can become enamored with who you are. I pray that I love you. Please reveal yourself to me, and allow me to experience the love of the Father. Amen. 

[wordzeck]

step one

We admitted we were powerless over addictive sexual behavior-- that our lives had become unmanageable. 

At this point in life, I know a lot about this step. I’ve seen myself do things I’ve sworn off on multiple occasions. I’ve oscillated between my spiritual “highs and lows”. I’ve regained consciousness after a night long session of acting out. When things are going well I am able to minimize the threats of the future. I know that God has my back in this process, but I don’t take the steps to radically eliminate the hooks I secretly allow to nest in my brain. 

So here it is: I’m powerless over my addictive sexual behavior, and my life is unmanageable. I’m doing “ok” right now, but go back 4 or 5 posts and the word unmanageable seems like an understatement. 

I was reflecting on some past experiences yesterday, and I came to the realization: I’ve really never had any healthy sexual experiences. I’m not trying to be some conservative nut job who wants to devalue all things non-marital, but I can just see my selfishness in all of my sexual experiences. My only two girlfriends in high school experienced the budding of my self serving agendas. I was manipulative and needy to both of them. I constantly asked for more, and I constantly made them feel guilty for my lack of fulfillment. Sure... I was a dumb kid, and you can’t be too rough on past iterations of yourself. But I can still learn from the shit I put them through. 

I read in the green book that it might be helpful to write down the progression of your sin. A ruthlessly honest road map of how I got here today. 

I apologize for the graphic content that is to come. It started with movies. I remember watching movies as a kid that I simply shouldn’t have been watching. I was aroused, and I didn’t understand why. Around the 6th grade I discovered pornographic content on the internet. This lead to incessant masturbation with increasingly graphic videos. My sophomore year in high school I got a girlfriend. This girlfriend and I eventually became sexually active (sans the actual sex). My jr year in high school I experienced my first “hook up” with a girl I went to youth group with. I also discovered internet chat rooms like Chatroullete where I could expose myself to women I had never met. My senior year I started dating another girl, and I lost my virginity to her. My senior year in high school opened up 2 more hook ups with girls I had no intentions of dating. When I hit college it becomes a blur. There were a few hook ups my freshmen year with girls I knew. My sophomore year I developed a second phase of acne and my insecurity went through the roof. It was that year that I began the act of anonymous sex. My jr. year I discovered the dating app Tinder, and I began to use that to fulfill my needs. I also ramped up the usage of Snapchat to exchange naked photos with strange women. Between the end of my jr year and the beginning of my senior year, my sexual partners had ramped up. That was the year that I found a woman on backpages to come to my apartment and give me a “massage”. I then went to another apartment on backpages to get another massage, and I eventually picked up a prostitute from a hotel parking lot. This whole time I was still using online chat rooms, snapchat, and tinder for strictly sexual purposes. I slept with three separate girls in a single night, I engaged in sexual activity with a woman who was clearly drunk, and I slept with a mother who was in town for her daughter’s volleyball tournament. Some of these events filled me with a false sense of pride, and others terrified me. My senior summer was the summer I got caught by my friend Zach for explicitly messaging his little sister. It was my “rock bottom”. I went about a year without engaging in the purchasing of any sexual services. I would slip up with porn here and there, and I even had a few hookups with girls from tinder. But I was getting serious about addressing my problem. Then sometime before this summer I went to a massage parlor in Phoenix in order to get sexual services. In Omaha I picked up 4 hookers, and I believe I purchased services at 5 separate massage parlors. In my first week back in phoenix: I attended a massage parlor on my first night, I picked up a drug addict at night (nothing happened), I asked a stranger on the street if she needed a ride (for my own nefarious purposes--nothing happened), and I went to a strip club. That brings me to today. 

In total: I’ve hired prostitutes 8 times, I’ve been a patron to massage parlors on 7 different occasions, and I’ve attended a strip club. I’m not sure what the number is... but I’ve probably hooked up with 30 to 40 girls. Looking back on it all is not too painful, but I know to the eyes of another my craziness will be incredibly apparent. That’s why I need to do this... because I am not crazy in my own eyes. At massage parlors I’ve probably spend an average of 75 per visit (75x7=525 dollars), my first 4 prostitutes I spent 500 dollars on, in Omaha I spent 80 dollars on prostitutes, and I spent 100 dollars on a strip club. That’s a total of 1,205 dollars I’ve spent on my addiction (give or take a few bucks). I can’t recount the hours of sleep I’ve lost, the emotional turmoil I’ve brought upon myself, and the life i’ve lost on my addiction. 

My name is Zach, and I have been made clean by the blood of Jesus. He is completing a good work in me, and he is actively saving me from myself. I am God’s kid, and he loves me. He loved me enough to die for me. He gave his life to atone for my transgressions. I will eventually get sober, and I will eventually renter the human race. I will fall many times, I will hate myself, and I will curse the day I was born. But I will always stand again, because I will taste the grace of Christ again and again and again. I’m terrified and hopeful. I’m angry and I am at peace. 

I am losing all hope; I am paralyzed with fear. I remember the days of old. I ponder all your great works and think about what you have done. I lift my hands to you in prayer. I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain. Come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens. Don’t turn away from me, or I will die. Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you. Rescue me from my enemies, Lord; I run to you to hide me. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing. For the glory of your name, O Lord, preserve my life. Because of your faithfulness, bring me out of this distress. 

--Psalm 143:4-11 a psalm of David