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I am a recovering porn addict. To most people I am a loving and godly husband and father. Pleasant, conservative and a natural leader. I have fooled everyone, including myself (but only for a moment or two). That is, everyone except God.     

I was the good son. I never asked for anything, not even as a baby in the cradle. This was my identity, and it was what made me valuable. Self soothing was my strength.

Even though I was raised on sexually charged media, my parents did have their boundaries as to what my young eyes were allowed to see. When a movie was being watched at home and an explicit scene came on the screen, I was told to cover my eyes. My parents never covered theirs. Then there were the movies I wasn't even allowed to be in the room for. They were "dirty" movies and only for grown ups. Sex was bad, but something you really wanted to watch other people do.

My father was U.S. Military and through what I consider to be my most critical years, he was mostly absent. It was during this time (about eleven years old) that I discovered hardcore porn (my father's videos). Though I had found Dad's soft core magazines a few years earlier, and was exposed my whole life to sexually inappropriate material, it was at eleven I became truly addicted.

When Dad was back in town however, he would often turn over an entire evening devoted to me. He would sit in his recliner, I would be standing at attention. For the next 5 hours or so he would, in very animated and emphatic language, tell me what a loser I have always been, am right now, and will always be. When he was finished fellowshipping with me I was then sentenced to solitary confinement in my room with no TV, no books, no telephone, no music, no friends until my next report card. With the justice administered it was getting about time to go on another trip. This period of life lasted for about four solid years.

 

I once found a business card in my father's work vehicle. "Silk and Satin Escort Service", and on the back was hand written a woman's name and phone number. I was devastated. I promptly asked him about the card and he got this grin on his face and tried to treat it like it was our little secret. I was not amused and went directly inside and told my mother. They got into an argument. Afterward Dad, pointing his finger, said to me with venom "This is all your doing!" and he stomped off.

 

I became a Christian at 16 (one month after Dad) with a 5 year history with hardcore porn (Dad's) and a longer history with softcore (Dad's) and even longer still with sexual material that most people would not consider porn (Mom and Dad's), but still inappropriate. Because there had never been a relationship with either of my parents there was no one I could turn to for help. Sex had always been treated in my home as something dirty, hidden, and irresistible.

 

I hoped getting saved would "cure" me, after all Christians don't do that sort of thing... just ask them. I was able to abstain for a few months, but when I fell again the shame was terrible. "Probably I'm not really saved, maybe I'm so bad even Jesus can't help me" were my thoughts.

 

In the mean time my father, appeared to have done a total 180. No drinking, or swearing, and regularly going to church: Sunday school, morning worship, discipleship training, Sunday evening worship, Wednesday evening worship, the youth group's fundraiser car wash, men's prayer breakfast, and any and everything else the church had going on- no exceptions no excuses and "son if you don't want to go this time then you're luke warm and something's wrong with your walk". With less than a year as a Christian he began preaching the Sunday morning service about once every 6 weeks. He was very gifted in his delivery, and well liked by the congregation. It was the budding of a new career, and just in time for Dad's retirement from the military.

 

My father, shortly after becoming a Christian began having dreams. One day he approached me and told me the night before he dreamed he and the Pastor were praying over me as I lay in front of them with a demon on my chest. The demon was named "Lust". When they told him to leave, he refused and told them that I was spiritually dead. "I just thought you should know." he said... Spiritually dead. I was doomed.

 

 

The truth is, the porn did make me think something was wrong with my walk, but as time wore on I noticed mostly what had changed with Dad were superficial things that pleased man. For example the emotional abuse never stopped, no real relationship ever developed between us. Church began to look more like a social club and he, and my mother for that matter, seemed more concerned that my actions or lack of zeal for being at church every time the doors were open would reflect badly on them. I would love to say that it was just my family, but I really don't think so.

 

I've spent a lot of time in churches where the worst sins people seem to suffer from are eating too many doughnuts, not making enough time for their morning devotional twice last week, or they lost their temper and nearly yelled at the fellow who cut them off at the intersection. They are familiar of course with worse sins... like porn addiction. That one was encountered when they were serving on some prison ministry. Who can be real in an environment like that? Who can grow, or be mentored? If this is church, what good is it? It is my opinion that this is not church at all. Where do the real sinners go to be healed? This I'm afraid has been THE question I've struggled with for nearly 25 years.

 

My problem grew unchecked for years. Every time I fell was the last time, and yet I would indulge again. I didn't know who I could turn to. I was too ashamed, and as a respected member of the church and a preacher's kid I had too much to loose. I was trapped by my own pride and fear.

 

I started dating Caroline when I was 19. I quickly fell in love with her. She was perfect. These were the best of times, full of hope,  and a love of life. Unfortunately it didn't last long. The porn usage, which lessened quite a bit during that time resumed in full. I couldn't stop. One day Caroline was about to tell me of her problem with bulimia. Sensing the difficulty she was struggling with to put the words together, I intercepted the moment and told her of my addiction. I thought this a good move at the time. I see now that it was a huge mistake to lay this burden on the shoulders of my girl friend with an eating disorder and history of sexual abuse. I should have found an accountability partner who would not be personally hurt by the news and would be able to offer some advice and counsel.

 

Caroline recommended I talk to the leader of a church recovery group she was going to for her bulimia. The program was for all sorts of addictive behaviors, and the leader was a recovering porn addict himself. Maybe he would have a few tricks. I would like to say that this was a turning point in my life. Unfortunately there were no tricks and the group leader didn't have a lot to offer me. He tried, but I think he was not truly in recovery as we thought, the program seemed centered around a "do the right thing- here's the biblical reference" kind of approach.

 

What followed is a long long history of succumbing to temptation, lying to cover up, lying to cover the cover up, succumbing again etc etc. A tangled and elaborate fiction was spun that had me never bringing up the issue, denying when asked by Caroline, and when the denial was not accepted, I would plea guilty to a lesser charge: "I was at the grocery store and walked past the magazine rack and the cover of a 'men's' magazine drew me in. Sorry I guess I'm still a little weak. That's why I'm late from work." Instead of "I left work and went to the public library where I found a secluded computer terminal with unfiltered internet access and spent a bunch of time looking at hardcore porn."

 

Several years back I talked Caroline into an adventure. We would sell our house for a profit, combine that profit with our savings and build a new house on a piece of property we already owned. I would do the work myself and we could be debt free. She didn't want to do it as it involved living temporarily in a LITTLE cottage that would eventually become part of our house. No plumbing, only a wood burning stove to heat us through 6 months of winter that would reach -40 degrees. As a bonus there would be very little room, storage, or privacy for us and our three (we now have seven) children. It would be like living in a walk in closet with a chemical toilet behind a curtain in the corner (affectionately referred to as "Pooh Corner") that would have to be manually dumped daily.

 

It was a deal she couldn't refuse... I had applied too much pressure and had constructed a cultish religious philosophy that promised greater spiritual growth and purity living debt free in the country. A simple existence far away from the evil influences of the city. So while my wife was still bleeding from a miscarriage, I moved my family to the "manor" in the country and I spent my days at work in the "evil" city.

 

I think it appropriate to state that I really did believe that crap. I was going to be "holier" in the country. It was morally superior to live simply. Cities were inherently evil as they were full of people who sin. Their sin is dangerous and will rub off on me. I neglected to realize that my own heart was sinful and I didn't actually need anyone else's help to sin. Furthermore I brought that sinful heart home with me to the country. I have since come to regret what I put Caroline through. It is unbelievable that I would expect her to live at such a low standard.

 

What follows is the hardest part to write and what seems to cause my wife the most pain. After years of deception and putting vile things before my eyes, and while Caroline was pregnant with our fifth baby, I attempted to find an anonymous partner to use. I advertised on an online "local hookup" site. I began to contact women to try and make arrangements. "My wife would never know." "Just this once." "Lots of people are doing this now."

 

It was only days after placing the ad that a miracle happened. God, in his mercy and grace, broke my knee cap in a ladder accident. After an emergency surgery I was bed ridden, and on pain medication. Caroline was my nurse, none the wiser of my plans for betrayal and depravity. I had sunk low. It was the beginning of my undoing.

 

Now I would love to write that this was the new beginning and that it was the end of my porn problems. It was not. Months later back at work, my sales took a dive and I was no longer making much money. I think it was the stress that brought back the desire to self soothe, but again I started to watch the porn.

 

My undoing continued as I switched employment. A position in a tiny but growing business became available closer to home. I did this small company a favor and consented to work for them. I was going to help them "go to the next level". The job was a little beneath me of course. After all I just came from a more successful organization where I was greatly esteemed, earning potentials were high and I got to wear a suit. They had a going away party for me. I was a liked guy.

 

The new job kicked my butt. Being a smaller company they required me to wear many hats simultaneously, and switch back and forth between mental gears. After a life time of brain altering addiction, my mind was not up to the task. I began seeking illicit sexual stimuli where I could, at the magazine section of the supermarket. Mild in comparison perhaps to what I was used to, but more of the same message that people are objects to be consumed at your pleasure.

 

Suddenly, only a few months into my employment, the owner died. A few months after that the store manager left, and I felt the entire burden of the company's financial needs set upon my shoulders. If I couldn't make the sales, people will lose their jobs and the company would go under. It was at this time that I discovered that the computers were no longer being monitored and... you can probably guess. Less than six months later I was laid off from the job that was "beneath me". I was told they weren't displeased with me but they had to bring in somebody who could be paid less. As far as I know, no one ever found out about the porn but I could be wrong.

 

The next year was a hard one, trying to find my way. I began disclosing tiny bits and pieces to my wife about my addiction. I'm sorry to say that the bits were purposefully misleading, indicating that though I still "struggled", I was getting better. It was a year that saw me self righteous. I had quit the porn cold turkey (mostly because of the lack of availability), but after 30 years, my thought life was still full of "vile things".

 

One evening, a little over a year ago, I was on "you tube" looking for an instructional video for a new home repair business I had started. I noticed after the movie played that a suggestive clip was on the side bar. No one was in the room so I clicked on it, then on another, then another for about an hour. Caroline came down stairs and I scrambled to close the windows on the screen. When she noticed that the movie that was loading was the same one from an hour ago, she looked into my eyes and saw right through me. What followed was a tirade with hissing and growling. I cowered and said I only looked at one movie of a woman with large breasts sweepingorshovelingorsomethinghonestshewasfullyclothed.

 

The next day I came home from working a job with my oldest son. What I met was not the same wife I had left that morning. Her lovely long hair was gone, as was her smile. And on the bed there was a bag of give away clothes that I had liked seeing her wear. She said they belonged to a different woman who is now dead. She had checked my history while I was gone. I was caught for the first time in the twenty years we were together. I had broken the one rule I had set for myself, that no trash would be brought into the house to corrupt our children as I had been corrupted.

 

We argued about the hair, and I stomped off to the bathroom to shave off the beard I had been sporting since the knee accident. She liked it and I wanted to get even. With great relish and rage I glided the razor over my cheeks. More and more. The beard was about half removed when I began to notice that face starring back at me had changed. He looked old, with flabby hanging jowls. It was my father! Too late now. I finished the shaving but kept the mustache out of fear of what I would find under my nose.

 

I walked out of the bathroom and my children recoiled in horror. My daughter was born after the knee accident and had never seen me without my trimmed red beard. She said "You're not my daddy! You look stupid!" One of my sons said " Hey Dad, you look like Oscar!", a family friend 20 years my senior. Not a compliment. I walked back to the bedroom where Caroline was. She took one look at me a snickered. I guess I showed her.

 

What followed was a few months of arguments, pity parties, despair, threats to leave (mine, not hers), more disclosure, panic attacks (hers, not mine) and finally a level of uneasy peace. Seeing her undoing revealed the lies I had been believing. What she did not know was tormenting and killing her. I had actually been a perpetrator in my own wife's story. All of the lies she was believing from her sexual abuse and eating disorders I had been proving true for twenty years. Everyday I was telling her she was too much and not enough.

 

The reality of the destruction was at times overwhelming to me. I would often curl up in bed unable to get up, hopeless about healing the wounds I had inflicted on my wife. I was certain she would be better off without me. It would be better if a pervert piece of trash like me were to die. I even went so far once to plan my own suicide. Thankfully the suicide note, when actually written out, seemed so stupid and narcissistic. My pride would not let me go through with it. I realize now what an evil thing I was planning and that it would have done far more harm to my family.

 

These fits of despair I am prone to I now realize are another form of my self soothing addiction. I am no longer acting out with porn (over two years now) and my thought life is cleaned up (because I banish the thoughts when they come) but I still have weaknesses. In addition to despair and depression I also am now prone to tirades and rages over small things that won't let me be God. I find at 40 years old, I have the coping skills of a ten year old boy.

 

Three weeks ago I did a full unedited disclosure. I think Caroline is almost dead now. At least dead toward me. The feelings of grief and sadness are frequent and overwhelming. She has panic attacks nearly everyday sometimes twice unless she can keep her stomach empty. I had not realized that every new disclosure brought her trust of me back to zero.

 

Right now my recovery is focusing on renewing my mind, maintaining a sober assessment of myself, staying accountable and seeking out community (we have very little right now). I am seeking a few good friends to share struggles with and to build each other up. I also am trying to find the root causes for the lies that brought me here.