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Finding Her Way, continued...
Everywhere I went, every room I entered, I scoped out and had my feelers working. Everywhere I was I brought destruction and pain, requiring even more self-medicating and avoidance of reality. At 25, I married the most sensitive, loving man I had ever known. I assumed that my wild days were over, that I'd entered a new phase in my life. My husband would be there to help fill that empty void and I wouldn't need to degrade myself anymore. Marriage slowed me down some, but after 18 months I became restless. I missed that feeling of "aliveness" that I could only seem to get through increasingly devious sexual experiences. Realizing I was in a dangerous place, but still not understanding that I was an addict, I brought my husband into the addiction with me. We discovered swingers clubs and acted out together. At least I wasn't cheating on him, I told myself. But eventually I did cheat, because swinging wasn't exciting enough now that I had permission to sleep with other people. Cheating on my husband brought back those old feelings of power and acceptance; it also kept the shame and guilt going. I could be faithful for months or even years, but eventually I was right back in that pit, more frustrated and disgusted with myself than ever.
Some months ago my husband was busy with some serious obligations. I had an opportunity to escape the summer heat and boredom and I went out of town with someone in my own family, never suspecting anything sinister might happen. We were related, for God's sake — what could possibly happen? I was in deep denial despite my history. Within six hours of stepping off the plane we became sexual and for nearly a week I lived in a fantasy. I was the center of the universe and this person became my latest Higher Power. I still thank God for what happened because it had to happen this way. I could not have stopped acting out without having hit bottom, and this was bottom for me. I had never felt such shame as I did when I got home after that trip. At first the shame was based on the fact that I had wanted to continue the sexual relationship and my family member did not. This quickly turned into humiliation, then feeling completely rejected, followed by inexplicable anger at him and myself. I knew in my heart that what I had done was really a symptom of a much deeper problem. I knew I had to face this problem NOW. This time I was not going to allow myself the luxury of fantasizing about suicide, I wasn't jumping into another affair. I could finally see that something in me was broken and that there might possibly be another way to live if I could only figure out where to start.
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