Addiction Counsellor Uncut by George Atiase

Addiction Counsellor Uncut by George Atiase


My 13th birthday, I
thought that I would actually go out and give myself a birthday
present that I wanted, and that was the first time I had sex. At 13, with a 26 year-old man. And I didn’t realise that that was abuse. I felt so desperately lonely, and alone. And I, I wanted someone to love me. And I thought that him
fucking me was him loving me. At the age of 13, my addictions
kicked themselves off alcohol, drugs, sex, bulimia. They all started round
about the same time. Sex addiction is not having satisfying, connecting, empowering, wonderful sex. It’s degrading, it’s humiliating, it’s doing things that
I didn’t want to do, with people that I didn’t
want to do them with. I’d wake up and my first thought would be fuck, I’m still alive. And then my second thought would be where are the drunks? And then my third thought
would be gotta face the world. And I’d open my door, and
when I’d open my door, I would go ta-da! And
I would laugh and joke. Ah ha ha who who he he And then I’d say bye, see
you tomorrow, ba ba ba bye. And go home and take drugs again. I had to learn, not just to accept my
feelings and emotions, but I had to learn to
challenge my thinking. Why did I think that I was so ugly? Why did I think that I was so bad? Why did I think I didn’t
deserve a place on this earth? And I chased it back
to childhood messages. The childhood messages that had been rolled out and repeated to me. And said to me over and
over and over again. That I then took into myself and endlessly repeated them to myself, over and over and over again. To such an extent that they
became as normal as breathing. And I remember one time someone, I was talking ’bout this
voice inside my head, that rules my fucking life, and someone said to me,
but whose voice is that? I thought to myself that’s
quite an important question. Whose voice is that? Whose voice is that? Is it
mine? It sounds like my voice. But is it my voice? And I worked out that, yes, after two days of contemplation, yes, it is my voice. And then I asked myself a question but whose words are they? And it’s like aahhhh,
’cause they aren’t my words. They are words that were
given to me as a child. And I realised, if they’re not my words, then I can stop saying them. And I stopped saying them to myself. And I stopped beating myself up. And one thing I have got from
all of this long journey, is it’s okay to be me. I never thought it would be okay to be me. And other people loved me,
when I couldn’t love myself. And other people accepted me,
when I couldn’t accept myself. And now I can accept myself.
And now I can love myself. And I love and accept other people, when they can’t accept themselves.

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