at it again

two years diary. two goldammed years and where are we? i was honest with him with all my habits. we’re still in the military … we’ve just changed countries. and he’s deployed again.

i think i saw the pinacle of depravity tonight. after bypassing the urge to throw myself toward the playForpurity.com site i sank into the p.rn.h.ub abiss. yes i do call it an abiss. as disgusting as it may seem after becoming numb to the horrors of an anal gangbang i almost regurgitated on the cat when watching a girl swallow a tablespoon full of liquid that leaked from her anal cavity. if i feel like an utter lower than cesspool worthless person how does she cope with herself the 1% of the day that shes not whoring herself up/out/on things?

something has got to change.

prayer is my new mantra. troubled? pray. bored? pray. irritated? pray. or rather: talktalktalktalktalk … to the one who is ALWAYS listening and not annoyed by the prattle. to him its how we communicate.

insomniac striking back

dear diary

i’ve been sleeping like utter crap for the past few weeks. not just the slightly disturbed sleep of the insomniac either. i wake up multiple times a night in an utter panic. i’ll wake up mid step across the house, straight up in bed, grasping while my heart flies out of my chest, or feeling as if it wasn’t a dream but reality. i can see, hear and smell the consequences. sometimes I dream so literally that it doesn’t seem like a dream.

for some reason this reoccurring bit is work oriented. in my minds eye I have forwarded very illicit and personal emails to the entire company I work for. some versions of this nightly monstrosity involve text messaging, loss of job, direct emails between my friends, family, co-workers and huge bigwigs in the company. it is beyond any unprofessional trick I’ve ever accomplished in my lifetimes. this past Sunday, after many weeks into this little drama, I actually forced myself to take action. i was awake for the third time that evening at nearly 3a and too prove it was only a dream I made myself power up the PowerBook and check all work and personal email acts as well as my cell. lo and behold my work email was in the same neat fashion I had left it in Friday night when I left the office: innocent and pristinely organized. not an incriminating piece in site. the same for all other accounts. ridiculous and still lacking sleep.

i wish I could fully figure out the cause. i must have this inante and severe fear that someone will discover the sexual photography and art I’ve been sending to my husband, from my personal email account at home, and somehow it will become BLARINGLY public to everyone. it will turn from a secret intimate harmless thing between two consensual adults to a disgusting, dirty gutter impression reserved for the vulgar sites viewed in the week hours of the morning by the sexually addicted deviants and miscreants.

it shouldn’t be considered porn when it’s the private moment between husband and wife. he asked me to fill a need and how could I turn down a man who’s adored me through the good, bad and back again. he may not have been my first roll in the hay but he’s by far my favorite and addicting.

aarg. it’s driving me batty. monday night was the first night I slept for six straight hours without any disruptions in the past nearly five weeks.regardless of what I read, pray or do it doesn’t seem to change. from a girl who has slept fairly consistently on a lifetime basis, going nearly a month with night after night of utter panic bouts over EMAIL PHOBIAS is starting to crack my foundation.

i’ve been really trying to self analyze it and I feel at such a complete loss. i’m not sure if it’s due to the fact that sex in the christian maritial relationship has such a stigmata and I was raised and steeped with that yoke around my neck. perhaps the balance of toys and clean porn, if there is such a thing, and a healthy flirty sensual honesty that is often labeled by elitest religious snobs as dirty. the frantic underlying feeling of loss and grief at the 3 month mark sans the rock in my life (damn the deployment!) could also be at play. or perhaps it’s the fact that my very healthy and regular sexual relationship with my spouse is at it’s most verbal as it has every been and it has taken removing him from the country and joining the military to trigger it all.

for so long I worked hard to respect his feelings about certain things bringing up bad connotations with him that maybe fully unshackled him may be throwing me for a bit of a loop. now that the honeymoon stage is wearing off I’m not feeling balanced. not the honeymoon stage of our marriage but the honeymoon stage of our deployment side. it’s heavy on the physical and mental and sexual side and drastically lacking the spiritual side. i don’t want him to reshackle and maybe that’s the hardest part. i like him unbound … I guess it’s just an adjustment period?

i don’t know. i don’t know. i don’t know. i know I want to steer beyond clear of the poorn websites that I’ve trafficked in the past. i know I want to throw myself back into the workout circuit to clear and tone my body back up like it was last year and not become obsessive about food and dieting. i know I want to throw myself back into my spiritual development. i know I want to embrace what true love and a loving community would be like, not the hypocritical two faced snobbish side that is sadly and stereotypically often true. i know I want to learn to balance my snide, snarky sarcassim with patience, loyalty, friendliness and listening skills that I could be so capable of. i know I have an honest desire to continue to expand my sexual side with my man to fully embrace both our characters within respectful boundaries and not let it be colored by others opinions or barriers. i just don’t know how to fix my sleep. drugs aren’t option to me and never play well with my body.

yeesh … I just want to sleep again. i miss my overactive imagination that dreams wildly, wacky, unpredictably and always different. i can’t remember the last time that my fears affected me at such a deep way. i deeply miss my boy laying in our bed next too me, soothing me back to sleep with his cute comments about how cute and crazy I am … just loving me, never judging me. I love you baby. I’m sorry I’m such a basket case sometimes.

rb

dear diary, i want to share my secret

dear diary.

i know it’s been a long time since my last post. some things have changed and many remain the same.

it’s happening again. this time he is deployed. this time it’s much much harder to resist. i allowed myself to get teased into sites like t*nyn*bbles[dot]com that stimulates my visual eye candy and y*up*rn[dot]com to indulge my carnal side. they are like playing with fire. im feeling like im getting scorched and seared.

it’s harder this time around. the husband is deployed. we spent 14 of the 16 months prior to deployment trying to get pregnant. we have explosively great sex, that was being strained to it’s limit for such a simple and still yet unfilled item.

it the past few months that he’s been gone he’s been doting, and spoiling me with sexual attention. though it’s not directly hands on it’s the verbal-list and crudest of our relationship. it’s hard because he’s directly stroking a carnal intimate side of me that has been outright begging for his attention. unless i’ve gotten him completely hammered it’s been hard to get 1/2 of what ive been asking. admitting it makes me feel like an ass because the 100% he’s been giving is still utterly explosive but it’s the yin to my yang. for the 1/2 of me that wants gentle spoiled love making the depraved rockstar half wants such a deeper darker more vulgar attention. it’s like feeding 1/2 of my soul. for so long i closeted the need to support his darker addiction that we both firmly face. it was nothing i couldn’t live without, like a million dollar home or my own reality tv series.

it’s such a thin line of balance. sexually and explicitly intimate, possibly involving toys, bondage and dressup, and the innocent pure lust of a very committed marriage. it may be a fantasy to drool over lesbian loves or very controlling demanding sex … but the reality is i can barely handle the rugged love of my dreams, definitely don’t want to add a third party to it ever (girl or guy) and don’t want to cross the line that could ruin it for a lifetime.

i want to write him these indepth scenarios and dreams about him. he IMs me line after line, week after week. the pages of my sultry romance books slamming to life in front of me. the forbidden of my youth pressed onto me from my lover. the ability to respond in like fashion and yet still being held back by the small voice on my shoulder of sensibility that will not be silenced.

it’s life’s little karmic balance. leaving well enough alone. understanding what should always stay a fantasy and hopefully influence life for the better, and what should have the door shut on it’s face [the majority of the sites] and steer far far around it.

the trouble with being an extremist is you either fully bathe in the murky oily waters of the dangerously addicted or you throw your battered body against the Velcro religious purist walls that make a mockery of what a loving person is supposed to be and continuously scare people away from a genuine christian community and into the communes they’ve come to create and love. i want to live in the middle. i want to be able to not threaten my husband by asking for the occasional use of a silicone toy or alcoholic beverage and share the outpouring of loving nonjugdedment to our friends and family alike. seek to truly show what ‘community’ and ‘loving thy neighbor’ really means. not stand atop a soapbox of the self-righteous and pious.

compunctious: feeling remorse or regret

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

do you cut off the hand you sin with?

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

going out on a limb

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.

living the lie

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.

is anyone out there?

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?