What if you confess, hope to get over it, but are pretty sure that you won’t, if it’s deeply ingrained? As I’ve stated elsewhere, I come from a Protestant background where it’s not even regarded as a sin. I’ve hard to work myself into a state of feeling bad for it.
There seems a part of me that is determined to get over it, but another that says, “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. You enjoy it too much and you’ll be back.”
And falling and failing gives feelings both of sadness in the failure, but also the sort of perverted enjoyment akin to that of playing hooky from school–part of the thrill is knowing it’s wrong. My sinful nature tells me that once I’m in a state of mortal sin I might as well commit a few more now that I’ve screwed up, that I can straighten things out in the confessional.It’s chain-sinning, like the notion of chain-smoking, where you light one cigarette off the butt of the last one.