There isn't really a focus to this post... I was just rambling to myself to pass the time, and I was going to delete this once I finished writing. But looking it over again, there's this progression (well, it's fairly abrupt) of despair to hope that accidentally happened, a hope from Jesus that somehow made its way through. I figured I'd keep it.
I've got a case of the Sundays yet again. I'm sitting next to my bedroom window, watching new snow fall like down feathers. There's a pineapple-scented candle burning in front of me and I'm typing on my dad's iPad (I left my laptop at the office as a new initiative to avoid pornography).
It's been a while since I've wrote one of these. To be honest, adding to this blog is the only time I really pause to think, to take a moment and consider, what do I even want to say?
Writing is also what I do when I really want to act out, so I write to distract myself. As my parents left to take my sister back to her college town this afternoon, I was left alone in an empty house (well, my brother is here, but he's glued to the TV) with a million options for spending my Sunday afternoon.
One in particular hovered at the front of my mind: you could read something bad. Or watch something bad. Or think something bad. And for a few minutes, that is how I believed this afternoon would go.
Lately, my sin in this area has been pre-meditated. I plan for it to happen. I look forward to it happening, thinking I can get away with the guilt that will follow (I never can). My brain has been programmed to act on instinct, act on desire, no matter the consequences.
Last night I dreamed that I liked a guy and he liked me, typical for a single girl. But this morning I woke up with an intense feeling of loneliness, the kind that cripples me, that makes me want to stay in bed and not face whatever Satan has planned for me today, some kind of master plan to exploit my feelings.
This morning I knew this afternoon would happen, that a battle was going to take place all day, and I was already planning to lose. I dreaded it.
Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be let out of sight. Likes someone under suicide watch, I should be under pornography watch. Seriously, that's how bad it is.
How could I have lived this way for 12 years? How did it all begin? I see people find freedom instantly. Why is it taking me so long? What lies am I believing? What am I not getting here?
I contacted a counselor last week when I reached a point of desperation. Upon learning of the cost of each session, I gave up and didn't email her back. It's gonna have to be just me and God.
And that's the problem. How much am I really involving God? When I want something badly enough, God is no longer in the picture. It's as if He's calling and I'm putting Him on hold. "Sorry, can I put You on hold? I'm getting a call from porn. It's urgent."
I need a panic button. Like a real, actual panic button. Something I can hit to escape, something that will chain me up so I can't act out, something to distract me. But it has to happen right away or else it's too late. I have several friends who tell me to call them whenever I get the urge... I've never tried it, because I don't believe it will work. I'd probably just wait 'til after the phone call to act out.
Do you ever get that frustrated, claustrophobic feeling when there's so much you need to tell God but you can't sit still long enough, you can't forget sin long enough, you can't think straight, you don't want to, and then you give up and ignore God? That happened yesterday.
Yesterday I thought about how I'm not much different than a pimp, or a john. Uncontrollable. Twisted. Broken. Needing release. Apathetic. Programmed. So what if I act out online and they act out offline? The same people are affected, whether directly or indirectly. The same sick desire is there, at least at the core of it.
These trafficked girls I'm advocating for... I'm part of the problem.
I just looked out the window and saw that the sun has come out, and oddly enough, I really am filled with hope. Actually, nope, now the sun is gone again... Geez, that was short-lived. But you know what, the hope is still there. I've been sitting here for almost two hours, just thinking and writing, a little crying here, a little praying there.
I need to hit my knees and pray. That's my panic button. Sometimes it works, and other times I'll admit it doesn't. But I've got to keep trying. And I've got to keep praying. I need my Jesus.
And I need to get up in the mornings, not because there's a battle to fight but because there's a battle to win.
