Memoir of a Female Sex and Relationship Addict

Addiction is a disease that does not discriminate based on race, gender, social status, religion, or lack thereof.

I am a recovering sex and relationship addict.

I didn’t know this about myself for years, but whenever the clouds of denial parted for a moment (and they only parted for a mere moment), I knew something was fundamentally wrong.

In any new relationship, even when I felt myself to be terribly in love, I engaged in what sex, love, and relationship addicts call “intrigue” by corresponding with at least one other person. Often more than one. When I was caught, I crumbled. I promised never to do it again and meant it, but then I did it again. I became a wizard at hiding from everyone I knew.

I could not tolerate a relationship after the intrigue phase was over; I completely disengaged. A lover’s nearness and need for me made me aloof, cold. Often I would hear, “It’s like you’re not even here.” I distanced myself utterly, but never on purpose. I simply cloistered myself in separate rooms and took my meals at different times for weeks without every realizing this was hurtful to the one I loved. I didn’t know it at the time, but the emotional closeness required of adult love frightened me; I felt very, very far away from even myself.

After I had acted out in some way, I felt guilty. I would pull my lover back to me-charm them with touch and attention. If my lover became embittered and chose to withdraw from my advances, it threw me off balance, and the process began again. I felt abandoned, although I was never emotionally honest enough to speak my true feelings. Above all things, I could not be vulnerable to anyone. This meant, of course, that I was always vulnerable, afraid, and so I pretended-master of denial-to be invulnerable, impenetrable. It was an act that I perfected.

While in a committed relationship, I found myself unable to say no to a married man I did not like, and with whom I did not want to sleep. I could rarely say no to anything provided the person was sufficiently interesting or attractive. The only way I was willing or able to meet another’s needs was sexually. The charge from this engagement kept me distracted from all the other things I’d left unattended since childhood.

I entertained every possible form of kink outside of those that could cause illness or permanent bodily harm, and even those I considered. I acted out with men as well as women. I met strangers in bars and had sex with them in cars and hotel rooms and strange apartments. I led these strangers back to my home.

As I became more conscious of my problem, I tried to warn my lovers. This only served to keep them at a distance, which triggered my cycle of pull-in/withdraw/act-out.

I met too many people on too many online dating sites, and no matter how much I liked someone initially, I was soon repulsed. This was my unconscious way to keep authentic love at bay, to keep playing the broken record of intrigue and seduction over and over again because it fed my need to remain shut down to emotional intimacy. If I truly opened myself, something in me warned that I would be annihilated the way my mother had annihilated me.

For the process addiction known as sex, love, lust, and relationship addiction (they are intimately intertwined and cannot be reduced or parsed), the traumatic source often goes back to childhood, to how we formed attachment bonds to one or both parents. If these bonds were not healthfully formed, we are at risk for reengaging negative attachment styles in adulthood.

The attachment style I developed to my mother in childhood was insecure. Most of my life-then and now-I have played the role of parent to her many needs. Her version of love is all-consuming. It is toxic and powerful, and it overwhelmed me for years.

My mother had a traumatic upbringing and little education, and from that vantage point, it isn’t a surprise that she reenacted much of her trauma with me. I was emotionally, physically and sexually abused by my mother. She trafficked me to men for drugs or cash. In those times, she often participated as a sexual seducer and more. I was given drugs even at a very young age-tranquilizers and alcohol-in order to keep me complacent, and likely so that I would not remember what was happening.

I remember what was happening.

In the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous literature, I am what is considered a “love-avoidant” personality, or someone who is averse to the lasting emotional depth required by love relationships. Women are not often seen as love-avoidant; this is a characteristic usually designated to men. But given my history, it’s no wonder that unconsciously I would find the prospect of love too enmeshing, too consuming. In my fear of its cloying grasp, I run. The reality is that I am running from the way I was taught not to be loved.

Sex addiction (and its attendant other addictions) is a disorder of emotional intimacy. I had to come to recognize that despite the fact that I am socially skilled and can often and easily charm others (not necessarily a positive trait for a SLA), I almost never fully disclosed myself to anyone. And this was true despite the fact that I have always held the core value of personal authenticity. I remained in denial-deep.

Sex and the lust that is generated during the intrigue or romancing stage of a relationship lets down dopamine and oxytocin in the brain and bloodstream. These chemicals make us feel very good, very alive, and it is these chemicals to which I’m actually addicted. I should have experienced this chemical let down often and naturally with the bonding love of my parents (being held and loved securely produces both), but I and others like me simply did not.

Sex is a quick, high-inducing behavior to keep me distracted and closed down to my problem of not being able to honestly and intimately engage over the long term. Romantic intrigue functions in the same way. The challenge for me today is how I choose to interact with an addiction that has its roots in early development-in my very formation. Can I forgive those who harmed me, forgive myself for those I’ve harmed, and continue to remain accountable? Can I practice deeper and more personal emotional intimacy with everyone in my life? This is the work I do moment by moment.

If you’re engaging in compulsive sexual and/or romantic acting out and it has caused you to feel unhappy, out of control, or afraid for your relationships, you might consider finding out more about what process addictions are and why we develop them. Finding a system of support is absolutely key. As a love-avoidant and someone bent toward long periods of isolation, this part was hard for me, and I know it’s been hard for others. But it is integral to recovery. Still, it isn’t enough to find a system of support to help you stop acting out. Healing sex and relationship addiction requires that you unravel the core problem of your attachment style, where and why it developed unhealthfully, and how you can begin to heal today.

If you’re in recovery, I wish you every good thing. If you know you need to be, I wish you the same.