Alright folks, here’s how I actually started this chastity journey, step by step. No fluff, just real talk about what worked and what made me wanna chuck the key out the window.
The First Week Was Brutal
Honestly? Day one felt like I’d signed up for torture. Woke up buzzing like a fridge motor before coffee even hit. My brain kept screaming “just five minutes, c’mon!” like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Stuck my phone on airplane mode and buried it under laundry piles—outta sight, outta mind kinda worked.
Getting Through The Awkward Phase
By day three, my body basically staged a mutiny. Couldn’t sleep worth a damn, kept shifting around like I was lying on LEGOs. Shower thoughts went nuclear too—water hitting my back? Instant battle mode. Started blasting trashy pop music loud enough to drown out my own brain. Worked shockingly well.
Game-Changer Routine Shifts
- Swapped shower temps last-minute: Full cold rinse for 30 seconds right before hopping out. Hurt like hell but zapped urges dead.
- Morning chaos shuffle: Stopped lingering in bed scrolling. Now I bolt upright, chug water, and slam pushups till my arms shake. Can’t think about touching anything when I’m gasping on the floor.
- Snack warfare: Kept trail mix in every jacket pocket. Craving hits? Shove almonds in my face till the moment passes.
Nearly cracked twice that week. First time was at 3am scrolling memes—don’t do that. Almost nuked my progress. Second time? Frickin’ laundry detergent commercial. Shut off Wi-Fi altogether after that.
Where I’m At Now
Month three finally feels normal. Slept eight hours straight last night without phantom itches. Morning routines? Automatic now—water, push-ups, protein shake. Hell, I caught myself ignoring a thirst trap reel yesterday. Big win!
Biggest lesson? It ain’t about perfection. Fell off once hard around week two. Instead of wallowing, I wore running shoes to bed—woke up and sprinted till my lungs burned. Saved the streak.
If you’re starting? Expect brain fog, weird dreams, and shower arguments with yourself. Stock up on nuts, freeze your sheets sometimes, and sweat like you’re escaping prison every urge wave. You’ll crawl outta that fog eventually.
