it figures. i have a great week and as soon as i glance at THAT site it goes downhill.by great week i won’t say that work wasn’t overwhelming and i wasn’t feeling like the world was crushing me in rapidly tube. because it was.

i also won’t say that rainbows flew out of arse and traffic played nice. that too would be a lie.

in this case a ‘great week’ can be described as my husband actually spending an overabundance of free time on me while visiting family out of state. without me. he didn’t (granted couldn’t) converse this much with me while in PA for training, MO for training or OR for other family, yet this week, even while surrounded with some of our closest and dearest family, he has. that’s huge. it’s sexy and gratifying and beautiful.

what do you do with beautiful things? i try and desecrate them by watch free video preview after free video preview of girls taking sadistic selfish pleasure out a giant battery powered mechanical devices and soddom and gomorrah-esque slave domination. then, while my kitten frolicks in the shades and my gazes at me with the chocolatey doey eyes i toss my head back and gratify myself.

he’s gone for four whole days and i can’t handle myself.  like i’m a 14-year-old boy who thinks that constant masturbation versus self control is the solution to the answer. like a prison inmate, as a co-worker pointedly suggested today, that HAS to masterbate multiple times a day or ease the sexual tension immediately when it strikes or i won’t be able to control the rage and murder instincts.

all excuses. aren’t they like noses? everyone has one? two? 3,567?

i don’t know what that says about me. perhaps it explains the constant struggle to find my spiritual groove in this world. to find the path of balance between an active and satisfied sex life and a seemingly endless missionary and doggy style positions on our beat up bed for the umpteenth time. a balance of love and respect, independence and co-dependence, creativity and claustrophobia. breaking the long haired, long skirt, sunday school, cookie cutter wife church stereotype. loving god and being completely at ease with discussing sexuality with fellow christians without them gasping at the ::TABOO:: ginormous white elephant sitting in their lap.

if i have these struggles and i barely sucked up the balls to blog under a psudeonym what do other christian women do? the answers aren’t as simple as ‘every women’s struggle to not bite the head of the chocolate easter bunny.’ the majority of the books i’ve found tend to be about the pretty shiny ugly sin and not smelly, 3 month collection of dog feces collecting in an 8 foot by 8 foot fenced in back yard.

where have all the good writers gone?

rb

dear diary.

how pathetic.

how utterly fucking pathetic.

it’s day four of six of the man being in PA for mil training and here i find myself at it again.

i’m sitting on the toilet with the laptop on my knees gangrushing through cheap trashy porn clip after clip. i’m absolutely obsessed with orgasming whether my body agrees or not. it doesn’t help that each site just gets worse and worse and i refuse to use my credit card numbers for a single one. you know the ones with more ads and evil pop unders, overs and arounders than head lice?

i sit on the john so my mense doesn’t make a horrid mess. if that doesn’t make it all the more b-flickish.
what a life story. the morale would be that loving god does not mean you have immediate and constant access to say no to SelfObsession. It just makes you more aware of how utterly hopeless you can be.

i’m feeling hopeless. now i’m going to go curl up in a ball between baskets of laundry and the rottweiler and try to not dream. i hate dreaming almost as much as masturbating. i can’t escape my subconscious when i’m asleep.

- rb

Part of my porn addiction problem is that I’ve found That One Website. It’s a dangerous website. It’s dangerous because it’s my inner dark fantasy come to life.

I’ll be honest and say that it’s not always easy being honest online. Especially when sarcasm is a strong suit and you read porn but haven’t made a habit to write it.
I guess I couldn’t soften the description and say it’s a sexual fantasy but a spade really is a spade.

Gah! Back on track. I have a hidden desire for bondage and domination. By bondage I mean that I we would take turns being bound and by domination I mean NOW BITCH!

The hardest thing with being raised in a strict Christian home is that the most innocent of light romance books with kissing scenes were considered EVIL let alone the full make out-every-but-sex sessions in the back of the school bus following sporting events.

That translates to a warped view of what marital christian sex could be. Which than causes you to ride that line between feeling like a Dirty Cheating Whore for fantasying about images from the website and trying to envision it being me and enjoying the different mission style and doggy position on the bed.

Crazy times and a twisted mind.

dear diary.

she’s the white elephant in the room. you smile and laugh and giggle with your friends, all the while wondering if they can see her. will they let you near their children? will they brand you with a scarlet letter?

she has nothing to do with children. she has nothing to do with other people. she really has nothing to do with other people. they don’t realize that.

did you know they persecute you in religious circles? men have help groups and accountability circles. women have ‘coping with your husband’s addiction’ books. i’ve had women look at me completely aghast when i even start to broach the subject.

sometimes it’s really hard to believe that God Loves Me. Period. if other christians don’t even admit the sin, yet they could admit murder, adultery and theft, how can they understand? how could they empathize?

my desire is to be that voice. be the advice and the ear and the help. i can’t be the only one in this struggle. fighting for independence and nontraditional wife responsibilities while wanting an on fire domineering sex life with my husband.  proving you can love God and not have to shut off your sexuality with a floor length dress and head cover and remove yourself completely from the EVIL WORLD WIDE WEB.

there has to be another way. take a journey with me.

dear diary.

i feel the addiction eating at me.

i hate her. i don’t know why but i think of it as a girl, not a thing but a living, breathing organism.

i hate the fact that when the world feels quiet and i skim through my blogs i always impulsively have to check the site. you see violet blue isn’t the issue. it isn’t her fault at all. no it’s the other her. the one that taunts me and gnaws at the edge of my sanity.

it’s not a religious thing. it’s not a sin thing. it’s not a anti-masturbation thing, it’s a control thing.

it’s getting off on the f*dandbound or f*ing machines sites.  people panting and moaning while i hover near my laptop doing a dirty deed.

i don’t know why it feels dirty. perhaps it’s that i want to find that act with my husband sacred and the more i get off on the web the harder it is to get off with him and he really REALLY knows what i need. maybe it’s because i know very, very, very few women that will admit to this problem. like one.

is anyone out there? can you hear me? do you feel the pain?