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A part of my life, part 1.


paranoid

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Hello to willing readers,

 

I am going to write about my life in terms of some of the major factors that lead me to here. I will try to be as concise as possible, without going into unnecessary details.

This entire post is just one of the factors the lead me here.

There are inherently embarrassing issues I will write about. Just a heads up/.

I feel that writing about myself here may help me organize myself.  I have written much of anything in a few years, so bare with me.

 

 

I grew up in a wealthy neighborhood, my parents were very much the "keeping up with the joneses"  type, although they appeared to be living well, behind the scenes was constant financial struggle, debt, etc...They argued a lot, and well, in retrospect I should have left the house.  But I stuck it out in there along with my younger two brothers. Where does a 14 year boy with no experience in the "real world" run off too?

In high school I was a very, VERY, anxious person. I could go on about how this is probably my parents fault, but that is not the point of this post. Anyway, I often had a few very close friends, but was never had very much social status. I made an effort to hide from the world most of the time. My efforts to hide from the world became entirely obvious when I closed off all relationships with my former friends, to allow myself more time for computer gaming, and internet porn addiction.

Gaming and porn took over most of my life. I did not really do anything in school, the bare minimum to pass, sometimes less then that. I did not know who I was or what I was doing, I was just allowing myself to dissolve into nobody, hopelessly denying myself the outside world, slowly internalizing every bit fear, resentment and anger that came my way. Obviously I never met any girls, and resorted to an ever increasing addiction to porn. while other's were putting their energy towards socializing and going to parties, or learning their math, or playing football- for me 100% of that effort went into masturbating to porn, or gaming. Now I am not saying that is entirely unusual- but the shear hours I put in, in combination with minimal outside real world stimulation-- years of this--began to destroy me.

One day at around 17, I was making a conscious effort to do something productive--I picked up a  book. I don't know if it was just being 17, or the fact that I was so addicted-- the idea of porn entered my mind, distracting me entirely from reading. I was SO frustrated that could not focus for 10 minutes on a book that I took it out on, well, myself. I remember being so annoyed, and saying to myself "JUST GO AWAY" . I death gripped my "member bellow the waist".  It swelled up. It was completely dead for 2 months. I never went to the doctor because I was young and embarrassed.

It eventually regained some ability. It was never close to what it was before--but only I would know/believe this.. I could not have sex. I could barely masturbate to porn. After two years I finally saw doc, and was prescribed Cialis, it definitely helped enough that I was able to have sex, But it was still very much subpar, not to mention extremely expensive--good enough for the doc. I was to see a specialist (urologist)  and take the drugs when needed.

I saw a 'specialist'. However, upon laying eyes on me, he decided that whatever my problem was, it was not of physical origin. I contested this but he had none of it. I left the office being told that there something wrong in my head.

I used Cialis from the ages 19-26, with no understanding of why I needed it.

I saw many prostitutes: why prostitutes? for one my high school education left me with no ability to be a normal social human being. second, the few relationships I did try having always ended when I ran out of money to buy expensive Cialis drugs, and had unexplained inability to have sex. Some thought I wasn't attracted to them, Other's suggested I was gay, others just offended me and never talked to me again.

But with prostitutes, I could have sex on my terms, that is, when I could afford Cialis, along with the additional, and even more expensive cost of a prostitute.

I worked in every shitty job available, and most my money went toward the Cialis/prostitute combination for years. This of course became an a addiction in it own right. There is something very intriguing about having sex with a beautiful women you just met.

At the same time however, I hated everything about it. It was dirty. It was inauthentic. Nothing was genuine. I was feeding something I didn't want to be a part of. I hated the thought of what I must have looked like to those girls. I hated who I was.

Eventually, realizing the sheer amount of money I had been spending, I began to question things:

I decided to believe what the doc said. I mean he's a doc, he must know better than me.

So I decided that my problem was in my head.

To keep things short, I basically deduced that it was not depression or anxiety, or some kind of suppressed sexual memory that made me unable to have sex. Most shockingly to me, it wasn't my porn addiction that didn't allow me to have normal sex---I refer you to: ( http://yourbrainonporn.com/).  In my mind the only other explanation was that I was perhaps, somehow into men, only I did not know it.

This was a perfectly reasonable possibility given that "its all in my head," yet my head seemed reasonably stable.

So I went ahead and forced myself through an " experience".

Without getting into it, let me say that coming out of it I was fairly certain wasn't gay. Or at the very least, I knew I preferred being with a woman.

I felt quit low after this. I smoked more weed than I ever knew I could smoke. I drank continuously while worked a kitchen job, slipped into cocaine use.

I developed all kinds of other weird habits.

One day it dawned on me that I was becoming something of an idiot.

 

I decided to stop everything I was doing, to turn a new page over. I applied for university as a mature student. I took an interest to math--something I wish I realized I enjoyed in high school. I am completing my degree next year.

I am currently in a relationship of 3 years with a girl who knows about my issues.

Last month a saw a specialist. Upon doing a proper examination and test, he discovered that in reality, I have  'venous leakage'.......I have normal blood inflow, but it leaks out too easily...

There is a surgery for this, but it does not tend to work very well, and any good results tend to only last a maximum of a couple of years.

Luckily there exist, rings. which, although somewhat crude, effectively block the venous leakage----no more Cialis necessary, and its better than Cialis ever was. Wearing this ring is pretty much just as it was when I was 17 before that day I screwed it all up.

My GF is quite happy with the results....and I don't know what to feel. I feel  relief knowing that it is not "in my head." I feel relief that I do not need to depend on expensive drugs anymore.

I hate all the BS I went through because I did not have this knowledge earlier on.

Apparently the knowledge of cause of venous leakages is somewhat foggy. In my experience, knowledge of erectile dysfunction of any form is still in the dark ages. It not something people want to put  research into since the 'quick' fix Cialis available---I mean those drugs must be making somebody lots of money.

I whole heartedly believe venous leakages CAN be caused by physical trauma, just like the trauma I inflicted on myself at 17.

I am going to see surgeons in the future, but I don't think I will attempt having the surgery since the results are unsatisfactory most of the time. However, I would like to ask those specialists to direct me to anyone doing any research on this. They should know that trauma is a likely cause. I don't want other people suffering like I did, I'd like to help push the research forward.

I am not all positive, because this was just one part of my life that I have shared here. I have many other issues I'd like to write about here... but given the length of this post already, I will save those for another time.

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