I remember returning to the office on a Monday.
Sitting down in my usual spot, joining in the mundane conversation as usual.
And all that would run through my mind, even as words flowed out of my mouth, was criss-crossing thoughts of "can they tell?"
"Do they know what I've looked at?".
These anxiety-inducing thoughts showed up after I'd cascaded into a binging session, ending up at sexual content on social media which no longer even aligned with my sexual desires.
I felt like a fraud. Like there was another part of me I was hiding from the world.
And I wrote about this in my remember letter. One page of A4 which documents my experience of living in a porn addiction.
Fast forward to today and that remember letter is like a horror story which now evokes the strongest feelings of sadness and tenderness in me. Living in a porn addiction was scary.
I'm glad I got out. And this weekend that has just passed was something which would have once been unfathomable in those porn addiction days.
I spent the vast majority of my time reading. I spent time cooking.
And I spent time with friends at the local book club I host, discussing the paradoxes and philosophies ravelled within the book Orbital which I, alongside most members of our informal book club, only finished yesterday.
Gone are those days of wondering if "they can tell what I've looked at".
Such thoughts now belong to the past.
That is the power of changing neural pathways correctly and going porn addiction for good.