Thanks, all, for the words of wisdom, for the words of commiseration, and for the elusive junction of the two that we try to occupy.
I woke up today again with a massive wet dream, probably the result of too much touching on the long Shabbos afternoon I spent in my own company.
Today I used my creative side to conceive different URL paths that would go undetected by my filter and allow me to view not tznius images. I masturbated without ejaculating (there's got to be a word for that).
I feel like such a loser because I was up at eight-ish but I didn't want to get out of bed because I figured that if I showed up to my chavrusa today, he would expect me to be there tomorrow, and the feeling of pressure to go learn is something that I avoid at any cost. (As you might imagine, there's a history behind that.)
So here I am, day 55, with another blemish on my record, more alluring images blazed into my mind's eye. I don't count it as a fall since I didn't ejaculate. I hope that one day this sort of thing would be considered a fall, but right now I have a more limited scope of behavioral modification
There's a thought that has been weighing on me for the past little bit, but I held back from posting about it because I felt it is too deviant, too far off, too much for everyone to handle. But I will go for it, knowing that I will likely get responses from people who cannot relate and who may not have the openness to really hear me.
I come to be seen, to share deeply, and maybe by letting some light into this part I will live with myself more fully. (I discuss a fetish in here, so reader be advised.)
I am by nature a very independent person. Since I was little, I did tasks and expressed myself like someone years older than me. I never understood my teenage friends who needed a friend to go with them to do everything: I've always gone to the pizza shop by myself, selcted and applied for camp and high school by myself, gone camping by myself, toured foreign countries by myself, and gone to new yeshivos by myself without knowing anybody. I am essentially an only child, so even when I'm home I have the sense of being by myself. I never really let anybody help me with big decisions, least of all my parents.
I also always knew I had a fascination with corporal punishment. I received almost none of it as a kid, but I would look through all the chinuch books to find where it was discussed. I would go through dictionaries and thesauruses as well to try to find mentions of it. I remember envying friends whose fathers would hit them. I had a childish theory about how to determine the likelihood that a given friend was receiving corporal punishment based on the bone structure of his father's hand and the shape of his face or buttocks.
I also had an enthusiasm for the human buttocks. I remember going through my Curious George books, studying the butts of all the characters. When I went with mom to go buy a suit, I would surreptitiously look to see if the fit flattered my backside. (I think that when I was in high school, I could identify practically anyone in the school just from his bottom.)
Naturally, on the occasions that I accessed pornography, there was a bit of a focus on spanking and BDSM. The "touches and pats" that I've engaged in and that I mentioned in my first post involved the tush mainly.
(If you don't know what BDSM means, don't Google it cv"s - PM me and I can tell you what it stands for).
I never really fully leaned into my punishment fetish until eleven days ago when I was sexting with a GYE friend. I gained a clarity then of how powerful an emotion it is, and that I see my role as the one receiving the punishment.
In the past year or so I started to look at my fierce independence as more of a mixed blessing. Perhaps it is not merely a strong sense of self, but also an hesitation to connect with people that was driving it? I have lots of friends, but is there a deep part that won't let itself be known in a relationship, and that in the deepest sense, I don't let anyone in?
The association with my punishment fetish went off like a lightbulb. To me, being punished is a symbol for having someone who is bigger and stronger than me take responsibility for me, maybe even take pride in me. To draw clear boundaries for me so I don't have to carry the great load of life's consequences on my own, as I've been doing for so long. To have someone who can handle me in my entirety, and to whom I am willing to submit, unlike my feeble, timid father whose very existence gives me the fright that I could turn out like him.
To take the weight off independent little Yitz's shoulders.
(This all worries me. I realize that if I was in a gay relationship right now, I'd be the "bottom." I would have a husband to take care of me emotionally, to be there for me to lean on, to pick me up when I'm down. Am I ready to be that husband for some girl out there? To be her rock, to give to her unconditionally, every day, forever? Where will I get the strength from?)
Thanks for reading. I hope that no one feels sullied from reading this. Please hear it as the אנקת אסיר that it is.