Reflection on Complacency

Boy, I’ve been lazy. Sometimes, I get in a funk and need to take a step back from my normal routine. I don’t think that by itself is so wrong. After a certain amount of time on a hiatus, it becomes exponentially difficult to return to normalcy. I’m beyond the point of self-care and feel I have drifted into self-indulgence. It’s like taking a week off from exercising; it’s nice to have the physical break, but it’s easy to settle into complacency. I begin to question if it’s all worth it. What’s one more day off? Do I even want to get back into the gym?

I started this blog website with a lot of stoke. I noticed it was getting challenging for me to post something of quality each week. Not wanting this blogging endeavor to become an obligatory chore, I took a little break. I can say it has become very hard to return.

I’ve been buying into some negative cognitions about a lot of things, and I haven’t had much inspiration for writing. I think it’s better to admit this state of being versus pretending it’s all fine and pushing through. This recovery journey becomes tiresome at times. There are periods during which I can’t find my courage.

I suppose this realization has affirmed the need for a healthy community. Like many others I know, when I get into a low mood, I tend to isolate. This is precisely what I ought not to do. I want to be strong. I want to have the ability to muster my own courage. The truth is that I need other people. We all need some outside help at times, and I am no exception. There’s a faulty belief to which I subscribe sometimes that says I’ve got to do it all on my own. When I try to put this into practice, I end up becoming irritable, distant, and burnt out.

Even though complacency is, by definition, more of a passive thing, I’m seeing how pride is a major contributor to it. In it, I’m saying I don’t need help from anyone—I don’t want help. Maybe I’m not so bad after all; I can afford to coast for a while. All sorts of alarms are going off as I type these words.

There’s a tension here I want to address. I can easily flip flop and report I’m a worthless slug who can’t do things on his own. This is self-pity and self-abasement. It tells me I’m lame and needy. This is not the opposite of pride, though. It’s actually energized by the same spirit. Shame puts the focus on me, baiting others to rescue me—the victim.

Anyway, I don’t have anything groundbreaking to say here. I’m more offering a personal reflection so that perhaps others can relate and know they’re not alone. My pride is being challenged. I admit I need help and can’t keep going alone. Recovery from sex addiction—the daily drudgery and vigilance—can be exhausting. This is no 100-meter dash; it’s an ultra marathon.

I’m stuck between feeling maybe I am “good enough” as a “mostly-recovered” man, and the simultaneous belief that I’m not “good enough” to keep up the pace of this race.

Sometimes, I wish I’d wake up from this nightmare. It feels like this life of hyper-vigilance and sense of defectiveness won’t get any better. My heart gives me this grim sense despite my mind knowing better. I’m a much better man today than I was 5 years ago. This is no accident. It’s time to regain intentionality and take the next step forward.