How Sex Was Once The Only Way I Felt Attractive Or Desired

Have you ever had sex with someone just so that you might feel attractive or desired for a moment? Sadly, I have, as both of these were the sole motivating forces for the majority of my sexual relations until I learned to love myself a whole heck of a lot more.

To be perfectly honest, I grew up believing I was an ugly duckling. Being a tall, lanky, or rather skinny type of guy who acted kind of goofy never gained me much in the way of attention or attraction from anyone. I didn’t go to my junior or senior prom because of this, nor did I ever feel like I had any real uplifting support at home either. What I mean by that is I don’t remember my parents doing what many parents tend to do when they tell their children how handsome or beautiful they are. Instead, I remember my mother being more focused on me not becoming overweight. And I also remember both of my parents focusing more on me overachieving in school and athletics. And even though I was never actually overweight at any point in my childhood, except maybe as a baby, and even though I did overachieve in all of my schooling and sports, I never felt like I was good enough, was anything special, or that anyone would ever want to be in an unconditionally loving relationship with me.

Alcohol and drugs became a great way to suppress all of these feelings as they helped me to cover up the fact that I had no idea how to offer any love to myself. When I became clean and sober from them both, I was still that same insecure little boy who felt ugly and alone. And even though there were people around that time who began telling me I was attractive, I still didn’t feel it within me. But then I discovered another type of drink and another type of drug that helped me to feel a lot more attractive and desired in life. Sex.

I had only had a few minor sexual experiences prior to becoming sober from alcohol and drugs, none of which I really remember. But with a mere two months of sobriety under my belt at the young age of 23, I had my first sober sexual experience. It not only gave me an incredible rush, it also provided me temporary relief outside of myself that I was a handsome and desired man in this world. And so began a very long list of allowing many to get in bed and have their way with me, over and over and over again. But there was one thing I always noticed and felt after each of those sexual acts. Empty.

I know now that’s because I didn’t love myself enough. Instead, I was trying to seek that from others, for pretty much two decades of my life. Just like a drink or a drug momentarily offered me some ease and comfort from this lack of self-love, having sex with people that were my type also did the same. It validated me for brief interludes by helping me to feel attractive and desired on a temporary basis. But it never lasted.

Until I began to develop an unconditionally loving relationship with myself, none of these sexual behaviors changed. In fact, they grew worse and worse, as I settled for less and less. Eventually, I allowed myself to be sexually abused by those who found me attractive and all that did for me was drive me to severe anxiety and depression.

How all of this finally changed was when I spent 11 months completely celibate. No sex. No masturbation. No nothing. During that time I fully learned how to give myself the love my parents were never able to give me, as well as learning to love myself for who I truly was within. In all reality, on some level I guess you could say that I fell in love with myself and because I did, I stopped seeking sex as a way to comfort myself.

Today, I view sex quite differently. It’s something I treasure with only someone I deeply love and who loves me unconditionally. In many ways, I’ve become somewhat of a prude nowadays and rather old-fashioned when it comes to sex. But I like who I am today and I don’t need to have sex to feel desired or attractive at all.

In all reality, I know I am both handsome and beautiful today not because of something happening between me and another naked person, but because of what I feel is being generated from within. I unconditionally love myself enough now to see that I don’t need to have sex to define me at all anymore and I thank God for helping me finally get here…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson

Practicing Recovery In The Midst Of Another’s Resentment

Sometimes I find life in recovery to be rather difficult, most noticeably when someone is holding some pretty serious resentments towards me, and especially when that person comes in the form of my sister’s husband.

As I sit here at the airport and reflect back on the last few days I spent with her family, I realize the most challenging part of it all was in my ongoing tension with her husband. It was quite stressful to say the least given it felt like I was walking on eggshells the entire time I was there. Unfortunately, he continues to harbor resentments towards me that at this point, I’m still unclear of what they’re about and why he’s been unable to let them go. The only thing I do know is that he continues to openly claim I’m not doing my work in recovery and cites out each time I do anything that he deems as selfish.

Much of what I went through on this trip there, as well as several others prior to this, continue to remind me of a past that still haunts me. What I mean by this is how I’ve done my absolute best these days to rectify my past wreckage and practice selflessness in as many ways as I can. But even with that and even after doing a long stream of things selflessly, one action that could be deemed selfish is the only one ever commented on or apparently seen.

Sadly, this has been all too true of my relationship with my sister’s husband. I have spent the last three years trying to repair the damage I did to him and his family. I have not only made my amends but have also been practicing a living amends by demonstrating I’m not the same selfish person I once was. While my sister has definitely seen and thanked me for my changes and grown closer to me in the process, her husband has harbored some very strong negativity towards me and done his best to avoid me when I’m around.

On some level because of this, I always feel like a leper when I visit my sister’s family, as I watch her husband not have much of a desire to play board games or watch movies or even engage in a simple conversation with me. While I gave it my all this past trip to be overly friendly to him, to compliment him on several occasions, and to show him the same love, forgiveness, and peace that I know God would ask of me, there was an overall level of iciness still felt from him during my entire stay. Unfortunately, I’ve learned that this can happen sometimes in recovery from addictions.

I understand today that not everyone is going to fully forgive me for my toxic past. And I also accept that not everyone is going to like or embrace me, even if I am doing everything I can to live a spiritually centered and unconditionally loving life. Sadly, I know I can’t make my sister’s husband see the hard work I’m placing into my recovery these days, nor can I make him let go of any resentments he continues to hold onto towards me either. After all, recovery has taught me the only person I can really work on and change is myself, which is what I’m going to keep on doing.

So whether my sister’s husband ever changes or not, I don’t know. Regardless, I’ll continue to offer him the same unconditional love I’ve been offering and pray he’ll one day fully let go of his resentments towards me and return the same. And hopefully he’ll also eventually grasp one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in my own recovery to date in that the only person who truly suffers from carrying any resentment is actually themselves…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson

Andy’s Woodsy Adventure – Chapter 3

Q: Why did the can-crusher quit his job?

A: Because it was soda pressing!

Hey there people! It’s time for another entry in my ongoing adventure story! I hope all of you had a great Christmas and got lots of cool presents! Andrew was a Bah Humbug this year and didn’t buy me anything! Can you believe it?! Oh well, Mr. Beanpole is alright I guess because he gives me lots of gifts year round, which is kind of how it should be right? Anyway, here’s Chapter 3 of Andy’s Woodsy Adventure. And in case you might not have read the first two yet, here’s the links to each.

https://thetwelfthstep.com/2014/12/10/andys-woodsy-adventure-chapter-1/
https://thetwelfthstep.com/2014/12/18/andys-woodsy-adventure-chapter-2/

Andy’s Woodsy Adventure – Chapter 3

“AHHHHHHH!”

“AHHHHHHH!”

“AHHHHHHH!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs several times hoping that each might do something, anything, like possibly reopen the entrance to the cave. But nothing happened of course, except for me growing hoarse, and my heart racing quite a bit more. I became totally frozen in fear half expecting to suddenly feel some warm heavy breathing on my cheek.

Note to self. STOP WATCHING SCARY MOVIES IF I EVER MAKE IT OUT OF HERE ALIVE!!!

I frantically fumbled in my pocket for my small flashlight only to hear it crash to the floor due to my hands shaking so badly. Now I had no way of seeing anything other than the thick blackness around me. A few tears dripped from the corner of my eyes as I began to wonder whether I was going to perish in this dark prison. But then I remembered the numbers of the floor and how they lit up in purple each time I had stepped on one of them. Maybe if I just slowly moved in one direction, I’ll walk on one again making it re-light?

My left foot slowly crept forward in the direction of where I thought the room’s opening had once been. Then I moved my right foot. And then the left again. Surprisingly, a very dim purple glow abruptly appeared. I looked down to see it was the number “8” relit again, which helped me to breathe a small sigh of relief.

While there was still a considerable amount of blackness surrounding me, I was at least able to see my small flashlight lying nearby. I quickly grabbed it and turned it on, grateful not to see any weird creatures staring and snarling at me anywhere in the large cavernous room. After taking a few deep breaths hoping it would stop my heart from feeling like it was going to jump out of my chest, I pondered what to do next.

Somehow these numbers on the floor are a puzzle. But how do they work?

Ugh! I never really liked puzzles much. They always hurt my brain. I fondly remembered one time taking an old Rubik’s cube that I had grown tired of trying to solve and peeling its colors off just so that I could put them all back together on each respective side. A smile briefly lit up my face with the thought, and with it thankfully came a spark of inspiration.

Scurrying over to the closest number nearby, I illuminated a “16” after placing my foot upon it. I rapidly then jumped onto the “19” again, which was still only a few feet away as well. Now both were lit up causing the room to mostly be visible again in that bright purplish color. This time I didn’t extinguish the light from my flashlight though as I stepped on the “77” once more. One by one the lights of each of the numbers disappeared again descending the room back into the same darkness as before with the exception of the small light still emitting from my flashlight.

“8-16-1977” I said aloud. Like anyone was really listening to me…

“1-8-1977” I repeated the other number combination aloud as well hoping desperately to find some type of connection. I got they were dates. But what kind of dates?

“I REALLY HATE PUZZLES!” I screamed at the top of my lungs hoping the cave would understand my frustration and help me out.

Dates. Dates. Famous dates? Dates of…UGH! I don’t know!!!

“WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A STUPID PUZZLE?” I shouted angrily at the cave. I half expected it was going to talk back to me. It didn’t of course.

“Birth dates???” I mumbled to myself.

Hmmm…Birth dates…I moved my flashlight around the room and thought about my own birthdate. It couldn’t be that easy…could it?

Looking around I saw the “6” not too far away and stepped on it watching as it began to emit that eerie purple glow. The “11” was on the other side of the room though, which forced me to tiptoe around a bunch of other numbers to get there. After doing the same on my way back to get to the “19” again, I observed how most of the cave and myself were basking once again in that almost soothing purplish color.

But where is the number 72???

I panicked for a moment and then I saw it…tucked away almost all by itself in one of the far corners of my current prison. After reaching it in somewhat of a weird movement to get there without touching any other number, I slowly placed my right foot down upon it, causing it to burn purple like the rest of the numbers I had already pressed.

At first I thought nothing was going to happen other than them all going out again, but then…

I began to hear separate noises from two different locations around me. Both were similar to each other and similar to something I had heard not too long before. It actually sounded as if large rocks were grinding and crunching against each other. Relief started to set in as I watched the granite door reopen to the cave, emitting a very dim light from way above. And then I saw it…the source of the other similar noise.

A clear crystal pedestal, about the height of one you would see in a church for baptism, slowly emerged from the floor, directly in the middle of the cavern. And directly in its center was a much tinier crystal pedestal several inches high and wide. At its top lay a brightly glowing purple crystal. It was slightly larger than the size of a golf ball and shaped with many sides positioned in weird angles.

As the pedestal came to a complete rest at its full height, the enchanting radiance of the purple crystal beckoned me to come closer…

Peace, love, light, and joy,

Andrew Arthur Dawson