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The Cleansing Sacrament of Confession

I love a big electrical storm that lights up the skies in quick successive flashes accompanied by tympanic thunder. You can feel the tingle of excitement, but the thing I love best is the cleansing smell of ozone and the sense of renewal that the storm leaves behind. The grass always seems greener, the skies bluer and the air crisper. The whole world seems to be brand new.
In many ways, that's the sense of renewal I get from a good confession. But even though I know that my sins have been absolved, hanging low in the sky remain two dark clouds that threaten my peace. The first one is the knowledge of harm, pain and anguish my past sins have wrought. This is the cross I must carry but I still hope for Christ to lift it from me.
The second burden I also need to lay before Christ but I don't know how. This second cloud is the knowledge -- burned into my every fiber through repetition -- that as before I will crash again. I don't know how to prevent it, this seemingly inevitable capitulation to primordial instincts that form the bedrock of my addiction. In the past, my conscience has played a major role in my decision-making processes. A little nag here and my actions were redirected; a stinging reprimand there and my course was corrected. But little by little, with each poor decision, each self-indulgence, my conscience has been damaged and now seems little more than a flagging remnant. Like a flag yet clinging by one last grommet in the crashing storm, my little voice of Right flaps in the direction of the more powerful winds, only barely resisting the pull. I fear for that last grommet, or more accurately, for my soul -- and my family's well-being -- if and when that last grommet gives. If it does, can my conscience be recovered? What pain and humiliation will I put my family through?
It's not that my conscience is absent. When I am at home, with my family, doing fun things, and when everything is good and right and ordered, my conscience is appeased and I feel no need to stray. In fact, at those moments I am very focused on doing what's right and committed to holiness and wholeness. But step away from that scenario just briefly and I ignore my conscience. It's like the kid in school that everyone makes fun of. I'm attentive to my conscience when no other pressures are around, but if the popular bully comes in the door, I'm joining the antagonists and throwing rocks at my conscience.
I want to restore my conscience to the center of my thinking. I want to be guided by right thinking, right judgment, courage -- all the gifts of the Holy Spirit. I just don't know how to do this. I have come up with a million ideas, but have stuck to none. Can anyone provide any suggestions out there? Pray for me, as I will be seeking counseling tomorrow. I missed it yesterday because of fear and flesh. Because I ignored my conscience (speak up, Jiminy! I can't hear you!).
My fear of counseling is more a fear of exposure. Not so much to the counselor (I will try to touch on my honesty issues later). I know I desperately need help. But help costs money, and that is something we don't have enough of. More importantly, my wife writes the checks for us, and if she receives a bill from a shrink, she'll think I've fallen again (she knows of my past sins, but thinks I'm fine). She has threatened to leave me if I fall again.
So, my hope for my meeting tomorrow isn't as big as healing. I merely hope that my counselor and I can formulate a plan of healing that will keep my family intact. I suppose either way I risk my family. Either I condemn my family to certain anguish and probable destruction through my continued selfishness, or I risk my possible spousal (or familial) ostracism by the route of healing I pursue. I think the latter is the better choice.
I know this rambling is not the highest quality of writing, but I doubt anyone is reading this. If you are reading this, I hope this helps you in some way. At any rate, please pray for me and my family.

The picture and others like it are available at: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?picture=lightning-strike&image=685

Missing Blog!

As many of you may have notice, I have been following some blogs that are relevant to my addiction. One in particular has hit home because the gentleman suffers from the same addiction that I do. But today I noticed that this particular blog (SEXUAL ADDICTION BLOG) has been removed. How depressing? I hope that the closed blog is a sign that Steven has found true healing elsewhere. Steve - you're in my prayers!

New Day Sunshine

Woke up this morning refreshed and recharged. At least a little more hopeful. Maybe that's overstating it. I think I'm depressed, as evidenced by my fatigue and general malaise. I lack motivation to get a large job done. Partly because I'm balking. Fear of failure. Fear that my nudity will be exposed. But I took a few steps toward healing - at least it felt as if I was going in that direction. I reported a few websites that are not filtered. I'm not trying to police the internet. I just recognize that I need to hinder the ease of access to these toxins.

I love my wife and kids

I want to add that I love my wife and kids very much. At least as much as my brokenness allows. I know I find true intimacy very difficult and don't often express my love, especially when caught up in my addiction. I don't often show my appreciation for all my wife does and seldom vocalize it.

Can a person so deeply self-focused and yet so profoundly self-loathing really love anyone else? It's as though my emotional growth is severely stunted and I have the emotional maturity of a toddler.

In what subtle ways am I sabotaging my children's growth? By failing to be a good role model. But what about other subtler ways? Am I teaching through my actions and expressions unhealthy attitudes toward sex, intergender relationships, marriage? I can't imagine all the nuances and intricacies I miss in my lust-clouded state of mind. But also, what opportunities to teach positive life lessons am I missing at the same time? I come home after a day of acting out in a sort of daze with a strong hostile undercurrent. I wrap myself up in an emotional cocoon and don't let my wife or kids in.

On A Personal Suicide Watch

Why is it so hard to ask for help when you need it? I know suicide attempts are often desperate cries for help. I don't want to do that to my family. But when I imagine myself asking for help, it seems so pathetic: "please help me. I can't stop myself from doing things that anyone else can see is self-destructive and can only end very badly for myself, my wife and kids! Everyone else can stop!" Maybe I'm too proud to admit that I really am pathetic.

The thing is this: I'm addicted to lust. I waste innumerable hours at work looking at porn. Then I take it another step and start browsing classifieds. This often leads to chatting or exchanging emails with another possible addict. Sometimes a meeting follows. The cycle is only interrupted - short circuited - if I masturbate. After momentary elation, I plummet into despair and self-loathing and I find myself once again swearing off the stuff and going clean for the moment. Until the next hit, and the cycle starts again.

Any moment I will be caught - by co-workers who see my porn, by an acquaintance who sees me hooking up or visiting adult bookstores, by my kids walking in on me at home. My face flushes red and my heart stops every time I imagine this. But I only carry this realization briefly during momentary periods of sanity. Once I get into the cycle, nothing seems to stop me.

I've lost jobs - indirectly - because of this addiction; my efforts to give my employer anything close to 50% of my time and energy are futile. I've put my family at risk, health-wise and financially.

So I'm stuck in this quandary. I don't feel my family benefits from my existence, except that I know that my absence could be more harmful, especially depending on the nature of my exit. I understand that children of suicide victims are more likely to follow the example. And there's that fear of pain and death, too. Plus, I like living.

I'm too weak to stop my behavior and yet too cowardly end it permanently. I am severely flawed and lack any character. On top of that, I am incapable of any real honesty or intimacy. I lie to myself and anyone who has tried to help me with this.

I guess I'll take a break here and continue later.

Hoping this is therapeutic!