A concentrated experiment

Neuroplasticity is an interesting thing. I’m at the one month mark and one of the biggest things I’ve noticed is that I’ve been actively shying from any sort of visual input that even comes CLOSE to porn. I’ve averted my eyes to underwear commercials, sex scenes in movies, even skipped over parts in books or social media posts. And I got to thinking if my rewriting was working. So I peeked. Not in a “can’t wait to jerk off” peek or an “I need to see it” peek but a “does this even arouse me anymore?” Peek that lasted Less than 2 mins. Like a newly sober man walking past a bar. Nothing. Not even a twitch through my body or mind. Only pity. The faces of these people look so…sad? I never noticed it before. Any video or photo you see these people with this caricatured face of lust on and it looks so hollow now. The act of them between their flesh so empty. It’s so obvious how performative it is to me now. How dehumanizing the cues to get there must have been. These men and women have families, some have children, entire lives behind that dopey look on their face. Like they’re playing as if their entire being is a toy. It made me honestly sad. Now I’m sure some hyper evangelical guy is gonna tell me I’ve broken some sacred covenant that aligns to his version of how this works but I’m not resetting my timer. If anything, walking into the lions den wasn’t an act of lust or failure. It was a barometer for myself in how far I’ve come. And by my goals, I’m doing beautifully. Stay strong guys.