The past three weeks had been good. Good until today.
For the first time in a week, I thought about looking at porn.
(Thought about. Isn't that incredible? I had not desired porn for a single instant in a whole week!)
But it's here. The desire is back and can be fanned into flame.
The wife. Still going through trauma counseling for her past. Can't seem to get a grip on herself, and so she clings reactively. When she is sad about herself, I can handle it. When she gets anxious and controlling of me, it's like cat claws ripping into my skin. I growl! Show my teeth. She backs off. For a bit.
Home is supposed to be a safe place. So why does it feel like I've left weeks in paradise to come back to hell? At first, it was pure relational bliss; now, it's a field of anxious, controlling energy.
The best thing to do is to go and comfort her. Be gentle. Be loving. Be patient.
But I am so damn tired. And empty. I can't keep giving out of an empty well.
I don't even want Brother right now. In my state of misery, I feel like I just can't rely on anyone. Isolation into pornography feels like the safest option.
I'm going to sleep. In the basement. By myself. Maybe things might get better tomorrow. Maybe.