Article : Obsessed and Consumed

Emerging from The Prison of Pornography

My name is John. My father left us when I was 11 months old, so I never knew him. My mother raised my brother and me the best she could. But I grew up with a pretty big chip on my shoulder. Father-son days at church were embarrassing; I was always adopted by someone else’s dad. I grew up knowing something important was lacking in my life. I remember just wanting a man in my life I could talk to – whom I could love, and who loved me.

I was introduced to pornography when I was about 11. My brothers’ friends had "how-to" books, dirty magazines, and we’d all look at them. From the beginning, I was deeply infatuated with sexual things. When everybody else went outside to play, I’d stay inside, poring over the magazines. It felt euphoric, seeing naked women; it was overpowering. Since we never talked about sex at home, I guess I thought it was normal – just guys looking at Playboys. Over time, the fascination grew.

During this period, I also gave my life to Jesus Christ. A stepbrother of mine confronted me while we were fishing; he asked if I knew where I’d go if I died. I’ll never forget it: out on the water, praying to receive Jesus. I took Jesus seriously, but my vow to Him didn’t stop me from using pornography. I was young and had no godly mentors. My fantasy life had taken root. Looking at pornography, I started to masturbate, "acting out" my fantasies. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t have the means to fight it. By age 14, I was masturbating once or twice a day, maintaining a large stash of pornography in my closet. It was a potent combination that spelled the beginning of a full-blown addiction.

I know it will sound hypocritical, but because of my Christian beliefs, I stayed a virgin until I was married – my escalating addiction never spilled over into premarital sex. I assumed when I got married the preoccupation would chill out. I met my future wive (I’ll call her Sharon) when I was 18. I knew Sharon was the one. We dated a couple of years, then got married. Little did she know she was marrying a practicing sex addict.

Our wedding night was a big disappointment. I’d brought the only sexual experience I knew into a loving relationship, and there was no connection. Bringing something wrong into a right relationship put a wedge between us. I was crushed to realize sex with my own wife wasn’t exciting. Sharon was understanding; I was fairly honest with her about my struggle, but I was soon back to using pornography. The video age was dawning, and I jumped in head first. Sharon would leave to see her parents, and I’d come home with six Playboy videos. Talk about dysfunctional: we’re only newlyweds and I’m already submerging myself in pornography.

I was convinced our marriage was fine – we just had a sexual glitch. I’d rededicated my life to Christ and wanted to grow spiritually. But I couldn’t shake my addiction. I’d "act out" and feel conviction from the Holy Spirit; then I’d confess and repent. I’d do fine for a while, but, like an alcoholic, I’d slip. I wanted to end it, but I was still tolerating a double life. I tried to rationalize: I’m just a sexual guy. But I was obsessed with sex.

My first temptation with adultery came when a woman at work started flirting with me. It was a rush to think someone else was attracted to me. I felt guilty. My dad had been a womanizer, and was on his sixth marriage. I didn’t want to go there, so I resisted. But it stirred up a hornet’s nest in my heart: Maybe a sexual connection would be there with someone else.

Sharon and I drifted apart. She was pregnant with our second child when I became interested in another woman. (She was in a bad marriage; we were testing the waters to see how far to take it.) Then, shortly after birth, our newborn son contracted meningitis and spent six weeks in intensive care. He came home totally incapacitated. I wanted so badly to pray with Sharon, but because of my addiction and emotional flirtation, I couldn’t even talk to God. I’d left our marriage totally unprotected.

In coming months, the flirtation lapsed into a full-blown affair. Preoccupied caring for our son, Sharon knew something was up, but I was oblivious to her – almost catatonic – totally consumed with my sexual gratification. I hated myself, despised who I’d become. Over time, I tried to end the affair. And after numerous attempts, I finally did. I begged God to heal me, to save my marriage. His answer was blunt: tell Sharon everything. So I did. It was the last straw. Sharon took the kids and filed for divorce. Even my pastor stopped seeing me; I’d been lying to him, too.

Suddenly, I was alone, so I simply indulged my addiction. I subscribed to Showtime, HBO, the Playboy Channel; I sat in front of the TV wallowing in smut. After a few days, I realized how desperately sick I was. I had no life – only fantasy. I was revolted by who I’d become. My prospects were pretty hopeless when a friend referred me to a therapist – a Christian – who worked with sexual addictions. I knew it was from God the first time I talked with Phil. He encouraged me, seemed to see my true heart. He took me to his men’s group, where I began to share my struggles. I was so used to blaming everyone else for my unhappiness; this was the first time I ever took responsibility for myself. Phil showed me in the Word where I could lay my lust at God’s feet. Over time, he convinced me I wasn’t too sick or depraved to ask God for help.

I began working a program of daily prayer and devotion, starting each day with the Lord; putting on the full armor; learning to deal with my impulses, to have a game plan; to make a phone call when tempted. I finally got up the courage to talk to Sharon. I told her nothing would thrill me more than to reconcile, but that with or without her, I was determined to get the help I needed. She was taken aback.

Through counseling, I also realized the gaping hole I had inside me growing up. I understood the only reason I was estranged from my father now was because of me. I knew I had to consciously put our "stuff" aside. After all, it was hard to judge him after I had been granted so much grace. When we finally reconciled at my grandfather’s funeral, it was like a ton of bricks was lifted. The junk was gone.

Today, Sharon and I are together, going strong. It’s been four years since I’ve "acted out" to pornography. I’m not perfect, but I win battles as they come. I get up every morning and admit to God that I’m powerless over sex and lust – then turn the day over to Him. Our sex life is vital and healthy. If an unclean image pops up, I immediately admit to God that I’m powerless and ask Him to take it away – and it’s gone.

Remembering Sharon’s pain, recalling the tears running down her face, helps keep me on the straight path. People are so afraid to talk openly about these things. But honesty with God and our loved ones is the key. I’ve realized we’re only as sick as our secrets.

"John" is an anonymous PK man living in the Pacific Northwest.