#TBT to a post from my old blog that I think is worth re-posting here. About the end of my addiction to masturbation: “For the First Time, In Technicolor”.
The day I found freedom from my addiction haunts me. It haunts me like a beautiful mysterious lady haunts you after a simple hello. And I desperately want to have a conversation. I had given up on conversation right before this. I had tried talking and conversing for so long and still I was saddled with this ugly, hidden “habit”; this thing that made me less woman in so many ways and made me certainly not worthy of God, and it seemed there was nothing He was doing about it.
I self identified not as Theresa but as Masturbator. It had been with me for so long– 20 years of “the habit” itself and approximately 10 of those 20 in actual addiction– that it seemed like who I was. I could no longer see Theresa as separate and innately different from Masturbator. I didn’t think God could either.
But, as is often the case, I was wrong.
The day I found freedom from the addiction to masturbation hit me like I imagine dying and going to heaven to be like. The old self not just melts but is violently ripped away and you are submerged into so much glory there is no possible way for you to take it all in, except in eternity. The veil had been lifted. As though I were the in the nitty underground of a black and white picture, I saw color for the first time.
This post first appeared on my old blog, The Fetal Theologian