Creating something beautiful out

of the ugliness of my life - MA's

story
Submitted by a reader on Mon, 22/09/2008 - 21:51

MA very kindly explains his struggle with pornography. His

articulate account of the events that led to porn addiction, and
his sources of empowerment in the face of this challenge, makes
for a fascinating and inspirational read:
By way of providing a little background before speaking to my
sexual addiction, my biological father left my Mom and I before I
was born. I dont know the reasons for it other than to say that he
was immature and unprepared tobe a father. I had the
opportunity to meet him for the first time at 21 only to discover
that nothing much had changed I never heard from him after
that despite my attempts to contact him. Dad number 2 was an
alcoholic who fancied slapping my Mom around in front of us kids.
Dad number 3 had kids of his own and always made me feel less
than adequate and had the ability to inflict a lot of damage with
words. Dad number 4 was drunk the first night we met and I
made it my mission to make his life miserable so hed leave. He
and my Mom have been married over 20 years now and I still
struggle to feel the level of love and acceptance from him that I
desire. I know he loves me but he has difficulty expressing it and
so weve always had this somewhat guarded relationship with
one another.
My journey down the path of porn addiction began at a very early
age. I recall being about 7 years of age when I saw my first
Playboy. The neighbor boy across the street had smuggled the
magazine from his fathers stash and we would frequently hide
out in his backyard to peruse its pages. Gazing at those images
was both confusing and wonderful. I was amazed to think that
these beautiful women would willingly take off all of their clothes
and display their bodies for the entire world to see. I burned

those images into every corner of my memory so that I could

easily access them anytime I wanted.
The more time I spent with these images, the more I began to act
out in sexual ways. I was..here comes the M
word.masturbating daily..often to the point of injury.
Childhood exploration went beyond the bounds of normal. I was a
child attempting to deal with very grown-up feelings and it
frequently manifested itself in inappropriate ways.
As I reached my teenage years, it became more difficult to
control my urges and impulses thanks to the addition of
hormones to the mix. Voyeurism became part of my repertoire as
I began spying on my sister, sometimes taking enormous risks to
do so. It was during these formative years that I began to feel the
first pangs of guilt over my activities. Addiction was not part of
my vocabulary back then all I knew was that it just felt too good
to stop. I was active in the Mormon Church and made many
attempts to stop sinning sexually. I would squirm in my chair as
the bishop admonished the youth to keep themselves pure or risk
eternal damnation. Feelings of guilt overwhelmed me and, with
each failure to overcome the desires of the flesh, I felt more and
more hopeless.
My addiction escalated during my high school years after I
discovered a small stash of porn magazines under my parents
mattress. I also happened upon a couple of videos tucked inside a
dresser drawer and a whole new world was opened up to my
discovery. These were actual moving images and I found that
sensations were heightened as never before. I was soon renting
soft-core videos of my own and secretly watching them when
no one was home. I found these activities to be a therapeutic
release of the frustration and rejection I felt over being every
girls friend when I was really longing to be their boyfriend. The
women in the magazines and videos never said no, were always
ready, willing, and able to fulfill my needs, and were always
available. I think it was during this time that I began using
pornography as a means of escaping from all the negative
emotions bottled up inside of me. For that few minutes, I could
forget about the hurt and the guilt and the shame as euphoric
chemicals saturated my brain and I became addicted to that
feeling much more than the images themselves. The magazines
and videos simply became a means to an end.

When I finally did begin dating, my developing perception that

every girl was ready and willing to service my sexual needs
clashed with reality but I couldnt see it. I had trouble maintaining
relationships because I was eager to practice the things I had
seen in the videos and magazines and I put a tremendous
amount of pressure on girlfriends to have sex. This pressure
escalated to the point that it would eventally break us up and the
rejection drove me deeper into my addiction.
Shortly after graduation, I moved into my own apartment near
my parents home and began a life of partying. Up to this point,
God had been an active prescence in my life. I had remained a
devoted member of the Mormon church during my high school
years. I was wracked with guilt over the things I had done and
promised God (and myself) over and over that I would stop. When
I began to feel pressure to go on a mission, I left the church and
began searching for something anything to fill the void. My
apartment was frequently filled with beer, drugs, and half-naked
girls and I began turning to alcohol to drown out the voices in my
head. On the surface, I seemed to have it all together. I had a fulltime job, a car, an apartment, and was enrolled in college fulltime. Underneath it all, I was scared, lost, and riddled with
emotional pain. Alcohol provided quick relief and I was drunk
much of the time. I was able to stay straight-laced on the job but
couldnt wait to come home and get hammered with my friends
(I learned how to shotgun beer so I could get drunk very quickly).
I experimented with pot but never understood the appeal and
stuck with alcohol as my drug of choice. My place was party
central for all types of females who were also drunk and therefore
easy targets of my inappropriate behavior. God, church, & religion
became the furthest things from my mind.
Around this time I also discovered strip clubs, wonderful places
where I could see and touch the objects of my desire up close and
personal without the pesky problem of emotional attachment.
They became my personal utopia and further served to warp my
sense of relationship with women. They became a commodity,
intimacy a business transaction. I was young and had a wallet
full of disposable income that is, if you consider the monthly
rent money to be disposable income.
I continued on this path for more than a year before one night
shook me back to reality and brought my party life to a

screeching halt.
My roommate and I decided to have a New Years Eve party. As
usual, I was smashingly drunk early in the evening. I continued to
drink wine coolers and peach Schnaaps until I passed out. I woke
up the next morning curled up in my bedroom closet, facedown in
a puddle of my own vomit. When I staggered into the bathroom
and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, eyes bloodshot,
skin pale, my hair caked with dried puke, I knew something had
to change.
I was forced to sober up and take a good look at my life and
where it was heading. Due to poor choices in roomates and bad
money management, I was hundreds of dollars in debt to my
landlord for back rent and damages to the apartment. I had
racked up several hundred dollars more in telephone charges to
976 sex line numbers. My parents graciously agreed to let me
move back in with them until I could get my crap together and
start acting like a man. Although this period of boozing lasted less
than two years, I went after the party life full-throttle in an
attempt to mask the pain I was feeling inside a pain I couldnt
even put my finger on. As I think back on all of the stupid
decisions I made while drunk and/or stoned I know it was purely
Gods grace and protection that kept me out of jail, the hospital,
or the morgue.
I enrolled in broadcasting school, graduated, and landed my first
radio job in a tiny timber town 100 miles from everything I knew.
When I moved away, I was sent off with a handful of Dads porn
magazines for company. They became my nightly companions as
I tried desperately to ward off overwhelming loneliness, boredom,
and fear. One weekend a former high school classmate came to
visit me. I took her to the local country bar where we hung out
with a couple of fellow DJs, linedanced, and drank pitchers of
beer. I ended up falling off the wagon and getting pretty drunk.
We made it back to my cabin where one thing led to another and
we ended up in bed together. I mention this because I had no
romantic feelings for this girl but I was still a virgin and the
enemy actually convinced me that I could get a handle on my
addiction if I were to just have sex. As if getting it out of my
system would somehow lessen my desire for it. Needless to say,
it didnt work. Not long after that I entered into a whirlwind
sexual relationship with my boss daughter. This relationship was

where my co-dependency issues first came out to play. Deep

down, I knew the situation was not healthy. Her father warned me
repeatedly to stay away from her and, a few months into our
relationship, I learned she was also sleeping with her exboyfriend. But, I couldnt let go. I was desperate to fill the
loneliness. I had begun experiencing crippling anxiety attacks
shortly after moving away from home and I clung to the
relationship to escape the fear that enveloped me. One night her
father confronted me with a baseball bat and I threw whatever
belongings I could fit into my car and I returned home - broken,
defeated, riddled with anxiety, and determined to straighten up.
A few months later, I met the woman who would become my
wife. It was love at first sight for me and I was instantly attracted
to her physically. She was a blond-haired, blue-eyed, tan & trim
goddess in a Payless smock and I was smitten! As I walked away
from our initial introduction, I turned to my buddy and stated
confidently Ive just met the woman Im going to marry. We
began dating and I knew immediately that this was the woman
God intended me to spend my life with. I proposed shortly
thereafter, and we were married 4 months after our first date.
That was 17 years ago!
I honestly believed being married would change me and, for a
time, it did. We were newlyweds it was all good! My wife was
pretty open-minded and was down for just about anything I
suggested. It was not long before I introduced porn into our
marriage bed under the lie that it would make our marital
relationship even better. It did nothing of the sort. Bringing porn
into the marital relationship only created a false intimacy that
would eventually drive a wedge between us.
In year two of our marriage, Crystal became pregnant with our
first child. Although I was overjoyed by the idea of becoming a
father, pregnancy put a damper on the sex life I was accustomed
to and I soon found myself sneaking off to the local Plaid Pantry
for the latest issue of my favorite porn magazine. I also began
purchasing porn videos and watching them whenever I was alone.
I hid my purchases in an old locking briefcase that I kept on the
shelf of our bedroom closet. One day, my conscience could no
longer bear the weight of my secrets and I tearfully confessed to
my wife about those magazines and videos. To my surprise, she
said I know. I was just waiting for you to tell me. Her response

was loving and reassuring and I knew then that I could be honest
with her about my struggles and receive her support. However, I
also heard her giving me permission to continue. My viewing of
pornography did not seem like a big deal to her and I continued
to skirt around the fringes of addiction even after promising to
stop.
By the time I graduated to Internet pornography, our lives had
been turned upside down by the loss of our first baby, the birth of
our second, and a third difficult pregnancy that resulted in the
loss of one twin and the birth of another. The deaths of our
children and the pressures of parenthood had exacted a toll on
my psyche and I began to free-fall into severe addiction. I was
unbelievably angry at God and completely turned my back on
Him. The panic and anxiety attacks I had suffered from a few
years earlier returned with a vengeance. I was also suffering from
a deep depression and surfing porn on the Internet became a
means of escaping the pain. Interestingly, I entered into
psychotherapy but never once mentioned my addiction to
pornography. I simply did not recognize the connection between
the porn and my mental/emotional state. Porn was the CURE for
what ailed me, not a CONTRIBUTOR. At one point, I checked
myself into the psyche ward at St. Vincent Hospital only to check
myself out a few hours later because everyone else in there was
crazy! My addiction took on a life of its own morphing into
something I lost any control over. I no longer had to slink around
convenience or adult video stores. The porn came to me right
there in the comfort of my own home! At this point, I was
primarily a stay at home Dad (primarily because I found it difficult
to give up my porn surfing time for the productivity of
employment) and I literally spent hours surfing endless streams
of pleasure. Rather than spend time nurturing and enjoying my
children, I detached myself from them in favor of the next mouse
click. I would often become angry and yell at them if they
distracted me from my fantasy world with such mundane needs
as eating or diaper changes. It was not uncommon to find me
scrambling around the house at the last moment, rounding up
kids and cleaning them up before my wifes expected arrival so
as to give the impression that I had actually cared for them while
she was away. I was becoming a hollow shell of my former self,
concerned with nothing more than feeding my lust, checked out
of reality in favor of shooting up the next fantasy. I became

suicidal and often found myself locked in the bathroom with a

handful of pills trying to work up the courage to swallow them.
God met me in one of those moments. I was sitting there with a
handful of Xanax & Luvox. Just as I was about to swallow them
down, my daughter Savannah, who was 2 at the time, knocked
lightly on the bathroom door and said, I wuv you Daddy. It
shattered me and I vowed at that moment that I would do my
best to never leave them fatherless.
But the battle with my addiction continued to rage inside me and
I found that my viewing tastes were becoming increasingly
hardcore. I would frequently seek out sites specializing in areas of
sexuality I never imagined and then become physically ill
afterwards at the thought of finding such things a turn-on. I
began to frequent internet chat rooms and would frequently
engage in cyber-sex with strangers online. Lord only knows who
was actually on the other end of those conversations and, frankly,
I didnt care. It was through one of these sessions that I met a
woman in California. Apparently, I impressed her with my ability
to talk dirty and we exchanged phone numbers. I began calling
her nearly every day for phone sex. Sometimes I would engage in
these conversations while my wife sat alone in another room. I
began to think that I was in love with this woman and I often told
her so. We were discussing the possibility of meeting in person
when my wife delivered a shocking wake-up call.
I thought I had been hiding my activities pretty well. Turns out
she took note when I would quickly turn off the computer when
she walked into the room. She noticed the long distance calls to
an unfamiliar number on the phone bill. She had plenty of time to
ponder what was happening as she lay in bed all alone late at
night while her husband surfed the Internet. She confronted me
with the fact that my actions were far more damaging and far
less innocent than I imagined them to be. As strange as it may
seem, our marriage was saved that day because I understood for
the first time the depth of hurt I was causing her. I know my wife
and I know that hurt and feeling of betrayal had to run very, very
deep for her to risk sharing how it made her feel. It was a catalyst
for change in my behavior because I never again wanted to be
the source of that kind of pain in her life.
That episode was followed by a long period of sobriety. I installed
filters on our computers, cancelled our cable television, and will-

powered my way through temptation. I tried extremely hard to be

on the up and up with my wife and earn back her trust. Several
months into my sobriety we were devastated by the loss of a
baby girl 6 months into the pregnancy. A year later, our youngest
son, Joey, was born with the same infection that took the life of
our first child and spent several days in the NICU clinging to life.
He survived but within weeks of that event I found myself once
again sliding back into old habits. I would scratch and claw my
way back out of the pit only to fall right back in. Guilt and shame
once again overtook me. By this time, we were actively involved
in the Mormon Church again, after years of inactivity. I realized I
did not have the power to stop this runaway train and I turned to
my bishop for help. A tearful, heartfelt confession resulted in a
few words of reprimand, an admonition to stop what I was doing,
and a period of probation during which I was stripped of any
privilages I had as a member. There were no words of hope, no
words of encouragment, no explanations on where I stood with
God. Only words of condemnation. Because a Mormon bishop is
understood to be a representative of Christ, I felt like I had just
been rejected by the Lord Himself. Worse yet, as I began to speak
with close friends about my struggles I found myself becoming a
social outcast in a church that prides itself on its sense of family.
In a time I most needed the love and support of my fellow church
members, I was shunned and left alone. I believed the message
was loud and clear: You are no longer good enough for us.
Therefore, you are not good enough for God.
I rapidly slipped into a cycle of depression, which led to acting
out, which led to guilt, which led to deeper depression. Perhaps
some of you can identify with this pattern. I tried crying out to my
Father but my desperate prayers seemed to go no farther than
the ceiling. Bitterness set in and I felt completely isolated from
God. I despaired over my hopeless state and thoughts of ending
my life once again crept into my consciousness. Many times I
would watch stories on Christian TV about addicts who were
immediately delivered from their addictions and I would hit my
knees and plead with God to let me be one of those people. But, I
understand now that, while God does sometimes work in
immediate ways, more often than not He wants us to go through
trials to build our faith, character, and dependency on Him.
It was not until I left the Mormon Church and found a new church

that I realized my Heavenly Father loved me, unconditionally, for

who I was warts and all. No matter how many beers I drank or
joints I smoked or porn sites I clicked on or dirty thoughts I had,
NOTHING was going to change the fact that God loved me. I did
not have to knock myself out trying to achieve unattainable
standards of perfection. And, when I got tired of rolling around in
the mud with the swine and sheepishly returned home with my
tail tucked between my legs He rushed out to embrace me and
He hasnt let go. Over the last several months, as my relationship
with Him develops, I have come to see God not as an impossible
to please disciplinarian but as a doting Daddy who wants the best
for His children.
A few months into attending my church, I went to a Mens retreat.
The topic was male sexuality and I listened in disbelief as guys
opened up about their struggles with pornography. That weekend
opened up my eyes to the fact that I was not alone in my
addiction and it inspired me to reach out for help. A previous
attempt at a faith-based 12 step program was a failure, largely
because I was looking for a quick fix. When I realized how much
work recovery is, I bailed.
I continued to struggle mightily with my addiction never
achieving more than a few days of sobriety. I returned to the
program 10 months ago, broken and desperate. This time, I
entered determined to do the work and allow God to be in control
of my recovery. As I work the steps, I realize that I have spent my
whole life using porn to cover up the father-hurts I mentioned
ealier. I am also just beginning to understand that much of my
past and some of my present has roots in co-dependency: being
driven by my compulsions, being tormented by dysfunction in the
family I grew up in, low self esteem and the struggle to see my
value, the constant worry over things I couldnt change, my
perfectionism, my desire to be in control of my circumstances,
and the relentless pursuit to fill the emotional vacuum within
myself and find meaning in my life. I have a lot of reprogramming
to do as I attempt to clean the hard-drive of my mind and
overcome years of negative thoughts and perceptions about
myself as a man, son, husband, and father. It is a daily battle to
manage my thoughts living in a society that sexualizes nearly
every aspect of everyday life. However, I know that God will
complete this good work He has begun in me and my past will be

used to glorify Him. There is a Genesis week taking place in me.

Just as God created something beautiful out of nothingness, just
as He replaced the darkness with light, He is creating something
beautiful out of the ugliness of my life, replacing the darkness
inside me with His light. I trust in His plan for my life and have
peace in the knowledge that His love for me is unconditional. I
praise Him for what He has done, and will yet do, with my life.
I also owe a debt of gratitude to my wife. I call her my Beauty
because she brings so much of it into my world. Other wives with
struggling husbands ask her why she stuck it out, why she isnt
angrier with me. I wondered this myself until recently. God helped
me to see that it was Crystals faith that sustained her through
my darkest days. She understood that she could not fix me, no
matter how desperately she might want to. As painful as it might
have been for her to do, she was willing to place me at the foot of
the Fathers throne, get out of His way, and trust Him to change
my heart in His own way and in His own time.
There really is little I need to add here.
Some readers may be suprised to read such strong advocation of
a faith-based recovery approach on my site. It's true that my
work does not focus on faith-based or 12-step plans, but my
approach certainly doesn't exclude either. I will always advocate
building self-insight, and pulling together the principles and
resources that we have available to us.
The essential key is learning, and fitting together a recovery plan
that works for us in the long-term. I am indebted to MA for
highlighting this, and much more. Thank you.