Broken #1: Mental Sex Scenes

“I read somewhere that we, as humans, are earthen vessels of clay and without much reasoning, I immediately agreed to the truth of that statement. Of all the things an object could be made out of; wood, plastic, titanium, metal, stone, rock, rubber, or skin, objects made of clay were the most vulnerable to being broken.”

Those words, extracted from a book i’m currently writing suggest that you and I – we are clay and so, we can break. On this basis, I will share the story I have to tell today.

It all started like a child’s play. At first, I would watch a sex scene from a movie and later on, these scenes would come back to my mind and replay themselves over and over. It happened when I read such scenes in novels too. Somehow, I seemed to enjoy it, for I found myself going back to replay those scenes. For the novels, I would mark out the pages wherein they were contained, so I could go back to re-read anytime I wanted.

You know, it is funny how we think that we can help ourselves out of somethings, such that when we lie or steal, we consciously try to work our ways through stopping those things, but what happens when we are confronted with things that are seemingly impossible to control? Things more mental than physical? Then, we realize we actually don’t have any control and eventually they become addictions.

That was what happened to me, when from reading a book or replaying sexual scenes of a movie, I literally started creating my own porn. I would look forward to any opportunity to shut my eyes (only that I wasn’t sleeping) and would create my own characters and make them practise everything I had read or watched. The mind, you see, is the real sex organ and this accounted for why at some point, it started getting physically stimulating.

And then, it got addictive. Consciously and unconsciously, all I did when my mind strayed was to paint these pictures. I wanted so bad to get my mind back in control but I couldn’t. It was totally out of my hands and being a writer didn’t help my thoughts either. My imaginations were so wide, so wild and making up a new story was no problem at all. I could have as well been employed as a pornography script writer.

The worst thing was, out on the physical, no one knew what I was doing and I wasn’t sure which hurt the most – not being able to control it or the hypocritical feeling that came with it afterwards. To the whole world, when my eyes were closed I was asleep. When I was awake, I had such a perfect character, as I have so often been told. My friend Gloria used to call me perfect, maybe not in that exact word, but she did have a word for it . . . she would call me ‘pure’ and I would smile cos I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. Though I would tell her to stop, it wasn’t because I was trying to be humble. It was because in my ears, pure sounded kinda filthy.
Which is one other reason why you should never compare yourself to somebody else for you can only see as far as what’s displayed on the outside. You really don’t know what they are dealing with.

At this point, I was tired. I wanted it to stop but I couldn’t. So, I did something. Having realized that it is God who works in me both to will and to do of His good pleasures, I prayed. I told God that I had found yet another crack on my clay and that I wanted His light to shine through it. That was it. I simply admitted that I was clay, that I could break and that I had seen a crack.

I am not sure exactly when it stopped. All I knew was that the pornographic writer in me just lost it. You see, for those sex scenes to be interesting, I needed a story and I think that was where God got me. Painting a story had never been an issue, until I prayed. Afterwards, I couldn’t make out anything, no matter how hard I tried. I knew then that it was not me. It couldn’t have been, for even till now, at times when I intentionally try to go back to that place, I still can’t make out the stories.

I have decided to share this with you today, just in case you are battling any form of addiction and it’s leaving you all broken. You can’t fix yourself, but it is okay to admit your imperfections before God and ask Him to fix you. He does answers prayers and He is more than willing to help the broken. That I can vouch for.
I will stop here and share other stories in subsequent articles. Don’t forget to subscribe to the blog or visit the other pages we have in here. Till later then, #breathe #pray #believe #youdonothavetokeeptrack #butyouwillseeanyway.

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Author: seun olagunju

Just a simple 22 year old all out to making an impact.

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    • Thank you, Segun. If you are comfortable sharing your experience now and would like to share it with us here, you can just send it to my mail, you know. We’d really like that.

  • ‘I told God that I had found yet another crack on my clay and that I wanted His light to shine through it. That was it. I simply admitted that I was clay, that I could break and that I had seen a crack.’
    #off to pray
    #seunthanks

  • ‘I told God that I had found yet another crack on my clay and that I wanted His light to shine through it. That was it. I simply admitted that I was clay, that I could break and that I had seen a crack.’
    #off to pray
    #seunthanksforthis

  • OMG…I thought I was the only one dealing with that..The stories just keep coming to your head and you can’t make it stop. And then when you wake up you feel disgusted with yourself. It feels really good to know I’m not the only one. Most of the time I waved it off as being creative or acting. Now I know better. Thanks Seun. God bless