“I swear, this is it. This is the final straw. The last time I’m giving in to this disgusting, awful habit. The last time I’m degrading myself and letting down the people I love. I’m done.” Those were the thoughts playing in my head as I pondered the weight of that in which I had just indulged. Shame and inferiority swept over me in waves, leaving me desperate for some glimpse of rescue. My only way forward was my willpower. I had to be better, and I would be better.
This was back in the spring of 2012, after I had spent hours in my apartment bedroom, avoiding my grad school homework by masturbating to explicit videos online. Or was it in the fall of 2016, after I had spent over an hour of my work day tucked away in the office bathroom stall with my cell phone, feeding my insatiable desires? Or perhaps this was the winter of 2008, after I snuck into my college research lab after hours, craving a private space with a computer to surf for all the sexual content I could handle. Heck, maybe I’m even thinking about that summer some years ago, after acting out in my office, even after seeing just how much my actions were crushing my wife’s spirit and self-esteem.
I guess that’s the point: it was the same cursed thing every time. The rush, the elation. The bliss washing over me like a soothing wind that carried away my resentments, my anxieties, my earthly burdens, and left me soaring up towards the heavens. Friends, in those moments, I knew how to fly. But my wings were only a vapor, and as they dissolved into the empty air, I would suddenly come crashing back down in a terrifying, dizzying descent, striking the earth in a mangled heap, pitifully picking myself up and resolving never to let myself be so fooled again. And in a matter of days, I would be back up in the clouds once more. See, it’s not that I forgot about that sudden, precipitous drop. I just forgot how painful it was to hit the ground at terminal velocity.
I was a “good person.” I was always generous with my time, constantly putting the needs of others before myself, never saying a bad word about anyone, and trying my hardest to make sure nobody had a bad word to say about me. I wanted to make sure everyone around me was happy, and felt taken care of. I excelled academically, succeeded professionally, and set an example spiritually. And all of this was hard work. Exhausting, really.
So even though I didn’t want to succumb to temptation, even though I hated giving in to my baser desires, it was the one thing I had for myself, the one place that I could just be. I was working so hard to uphold an “acceptable image” of myself, and my addiction seemed like the lone beam of support keeping me from being crushed under the weight of this impossible task. And there was no way I could reach out for help or be honest with the people closest to me. The lies and deception required to uphold this image were just a necessary evil. If I didn’t have their approval, what did I have?
Well, it turns out even my addiction couldn’t save me. As my façade finally came crashing down around me, I had to face the fact I possessed a deep, spiritual wretchedness that couldn’t be solved by porn, couldn’t be solved by avoiding porn, couldn’t be solved by willpower, or by trying my very hardest to be a good person. This agonizing revelation came to me after a long night wandering the streets and sleeping in my car upon being kicked out of the house. Or maybe it was after my wife tearfully exclaimed that she was ashamed to be married to me, ashamed to have made such a poor choice of a husband. Or perhaps it was just seeing so clearly my failure to live up to the values of love, integrity, and wholeness in which I claimed to believe. Whatever the case, I knew I needed an answer that was beyond me.
As I found my way into these rooms, that answer gradually came into view as I worked the Twelve Steps and heard the testimonies of my fellow program members. Admit your powerlessness, stop feeding the obsession, practice the actions of love, hand your will and the care of your life to God: work the Steps and keep coming back. It was time for me now to decide if I was willing to live in the answer.
This moment felt daunting. I was at the base of Mt. Everest, the peak reaching high into the clouds. Could I really see a new way of life after 15 years of continual hiding and acting out? Could I deny the lustful cravings that rang within my very bones? It seemed every day held countless opportunities to fail, to come tumbling back down to earth. But I kept going forward, day by day–surrendering my fear, my powerlessness, my anger to my Higher Power, the only one who could keep me sober and rescue me from my insanity.
And by that letting-go, I began to see that I didn’t have to live for the approval of others, that I didn’t have to hold tightly to fear and resentment. I began to see that my flaws and shortcomings didn’t make me unlovable, they just made me…human. For the first time in my life, I could connect honestly with people, show them my true self, truly love and be loved. I was free to admit my faults, and free to humbly let God remove them. And I could do all of this without lusting.
That being said, I don’t do much flying these days. Instead, I am marching up the hill of recovery, as God shows me the path forward. Sometimes I stumble, but there’s always a hand to grab on to if I just faithfully reach out for help. The addict in me looks to the sky and desires to take flight just once more. But instead, I keep marching up this hill, slow and steady, for this is by far the better way to get to heaven. Thank you for letting me share.
Asa A., Baltimore, MD
