6 months ago, I decided I would try not to look at porn or masturbate (masturbation without porn being impossible to even be thought of) for three days. I did this spontaneously, after looking at this interview of the singer I was in love with at the time.
Why did I decided this? First, because she is my absolute role model as an artist and I wanted desperately to try anything she did in order to be more efficient creatively. But the real reason is, I was sad. I was extremely, extremely, extremely sad. I’m 19 years old. This is very young. For New Year’s Eve, instead of going to the seaside with my family, I stayed at home. Alone with my cat. I just wanted to be able to have as many orgasms as I wanted freely, with tobacco and alcohol. I ended up drinking alone, and believe me, this is the last thing that makes you happy. Instead of being with friends or having true fun, I talked to guys older than my father with their cocks on their avatars. Like an addict. I’ve attempted suicide twice, but fuck, THIS was the lowest point of my life.
So it was around 3am. I was in my bed, the one I’ve slept in all my childhood, the one I watched porn in for the very first time, looking at this interview, and I saw an image, I don’t remember which one sadly, that triggered my decision. It was about how girls are tricked with the idea of prince charming, and boys are tricked with pornography. I had 2 and a half years of favourites on xhamster. It’s not very much for many… But it was a lot. I asked myself: ok, do I delete it all?… And I did it.
At first, I wanted to try for 3 days, so I warned everyone on xhamster that I would not come for 3 days, but I ended up deleting my favourites, and then, I deleted my account. I told everyone on Facebook I did it, I searched for “pornography addiction” on tumblr, ended up on this ted talk, leading me to reddit, and as I don’t have reddit I went on this forum and registered. Boom, life changed. Forever. The rest is history.
Have I changed that much?
I’m still listening madly to CocoRosie like I was paid for it. I still prefer to worship songs than the Catholic God I believe in as it appears. One of my most prized talents is the ability to listen to the song “Raphael” on replay for several hours. I still have Skyrim’s map engraved in my capillary veins better than the town I lived in since I was 3 years old. I’m still not nice. I constantly hurt the people I love. I’m still neck down in debt. I’m still lazy. Still fucking overweight due to my gigantic screw up from the three past months. I’m still a huge fangirl and this is a massive pain in the ass (boys and girls, I strongly advise you not to watch Orange Is The New Black if you’re not a billion percent sure to be rebooted. Fuck you Alex Vause, you’re too hot for me, I said I’ll NEVER be in love with a ghost anymore and you’re fucking with me). I’m still procrastinating like a madwoman. I’m still a computer addict, still a bitch, still a bad Catholic. And most importantly… Sadness still is the best girlfriend I ever had sometimes. It’s not because I’m extremely happy on the long term that I don’t have some severe depression periods. Because it’s hard. Fuck everyone that says that it’s easy, including me. Yes, I took the decision to quit, and yes, this is the absolute proof I’ll never relapse, but it’s hard as fuck.
But you know what guys. I have changed. I’m a totally different person. I’m not the “opposite” of the girl that registered here six months ago. I don’t hate her – I used too.
NoFap is not a war. It’s not a fight. It’s not something you win. It’s a story of reconciliation and love. More precisely, quitting addiction is. I don’t believe NoFap and quitting are the same. NoFap is the challenge. Quitting is forever. Never ever forget your past, but forgive it.
What I’m not anymore:
- in love. I cannot possibly fathom how important this is. This is not just about not being a slave of a celebrity life anymore – I do still love Bianca, I adore this woman. I’m just not in love anymore. This doesn’t mean that I “gave up” and acknowledged the fact that I’ll “never be with her” or something along the lines; it’s a perfectly clear feeling that what I feel is not the love of a lover. How to explain something that is so natural to feel?… I will not be in love with a ghost ever again. This past week, I was depressed guys, extremely depressed actually. Because I was feeling that I was falling in love with a fictional character again. I think I managed not to, but Lord of Heavens was that close. It’s such a thing that I know by heart. This is the way I lived for 19 years. It’s tough to let it go.
- chronically depressed. I’m a happy girl. I’m a super, supra happy girl, the happiest girl you’ll meet. I’m beaming all the time. But sometimes, my shell breaks a bit. And sometimes, life’s simply hard. And it’s ok to bend down a bit. I don’t hate myself anymore. I’m still quite not my best friend, but I don’t want me to die. In fact, my only mortal foe is Evil, I’d say. Point is: I don’t want to kill myself even remotely at all anymore. And this is the most precious gift I could receive. I will live, and I will live fully.
- a smoker, a gamer, a youtuber, on Facebook, and on Tumblr. I miss games a shitload. I miss the universes, I miss being invincible and saving the entire world, I miss poetry and adrenaline. But… I just don’t play. “It’s not something I do”. I quit games, for the very reason I adore them. And sometimes, I want to smoke. Usually when I’m sad. But at the end of the day, I don’t buy any packs of cigs. ”I don’t do it.”
- an addict. Could talk about this endlessly. But it doesn’t matter. I quit.
- Sexually, I’m fully rebooted. I’m excited in ten seconds, it’s embarrassing, literally anything makes me sky-high. It feels good though. And anyway, if I’m aroused, I don’t remotely see how that would be an excuse for me to masturbate or watch porn. I want reality, period. I had a lot of wet dreams because I’m particularly talented to trigger myself though.
What I’m becoming:
- a runner. Ok, so I screwed up, and have gained A LOT of weight back, but I refuse to believe that it means I’ll never reach my goal weight. And I will run a marathon. I will run a marathon for my mom who can’t, and for me, BECAUSE I CAN.
- less attached to material stuff. The pure beauty of quitting PMO addiction is that, when you remove the chemical pleasure given by PMO, your brain desperately tries to absorb every single tiny pleasure it can get from anything. I don’t know shit about it, mind you, but it’s definitely how I feel it. As a result, I’m enjoying every small pleasure in life x1000000000. I am dead serious. Simply walking in London is enough for me to be HIGH. Like, drug high. I never took any drugs, because of my addictive personality, and never will, but man, I don’t know if I need it, because I get SOOOO high just by living. On top of that, I’m less and less feeling the need to possess things that fills void with void. PMO filled the emotional void I was feeling, it was my beautiful boyfriend hung like a horse, my sex slave, the most intense pleasure I’ve ever had. It’s ok. I needed it at this time. I also needed to quit. I did it. “I had fun, it’s over”. When PMO was gone, I discovered an ocean of secret wounds. And I’m healing them, one day and hill at a time. No wonder I was depressed, I was a wreck when I quit. The same way PMO filled a void, all my other addictions did. And the less addicted I am, the less the need of materialism is what I feel. I badly suck at distinguishing “need” and “want”, but I’m becoming better at it. Sometimes moments and feelings are most precious than artifacts. I’d give my most treasured physical possession for a second of losing myself at the front row of a concert.
- more money-wise. And it’s a hell lot thanks to you my friends. I’m not yet a minimalist, but I’m definitely fucking on this beautiful track. I gave a lot of my clothing and stuff. My goals allowed me to finally understand what I had to do. I’m in debt, really in debt, and I will act according so. Just as much as I’m becoming a runner. Train like an athlete…Eat like an athlete. When in Rome, do like the Romans do. Well, I owe some people a lot of money, and spending money I don’t have doesn’t seem that much fun anymore, now that I know I’ll live in New York. I will be half a hoarder, and half minimalist. Trust me – nobody but me can I refuse to be normal. It’s cocky, right? I just don’t give a fuck, à la Marshall Matters. I will not be unemployed. I will be successful and I will accomplish my dream. FUCK FATE. FUCK DESTINY. I believe in Providence, hard work, and hope.
- I simply believe more in God.
- always happier. Nuff said.
- always progressing. Never stop improving.
Thread: 6 months.
BY – Anne-Dauphine