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.

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?