I Can’t Do It Alone

I crouched nervously behind the glow of our home office computer. Just hours before, my sister and her friends had called me into that very room to see “something funny.” I was trying to remember the words they searched — to replicate the series of clicks that would bring me back to those images. Alone.

I was nine years old when I was first exposed to pornography. I didn’t ask to see it. Those who showed me likely didn’t know what they were watching. If it weren’t so easily accessible, they may never have sought it out. Unfortunately, it was just too easy—a few words, a few clicks. That was the day my addiction to pornography began. I felt inadequate, unworthy… alone.

Pornography provided a false sense of intimacy — a shadow of what I hoped true connection would feel like. It progressed, like most sin, from images on search engines to videos and livestreams on porn sites. It went from “on occasion’” to a nearly daily ritual. All the while, the corrosive nature of porn was destroying my understanding of relationships, intimacy, and women.

After the videos ended, I would remember I was alone. Many events—now regrets — came to pass before I understood that I needed to gain victory over porn, and over the harmful narratives cemented in my brain after watching it for nearly two decades. A chronic abuse of pornography led me into places, situations, and habits I otherwise may have never ventured. I was taken advantage of and, regrettably, took advantage of others. I fell into toxic relationships, committed adultery, and then turned to drugs and alcohol to try and cope with the pain of my misdeeds.

The darkest depths of my journey came from the lies built upon lies I had delicately constructed to try to protect myself from the consequences of my actions. Within my own house of cards—my own constructed reality—that is when I was truly alone.
I knew something had to give. I had to change. I tried to, but after yet another failed attempt, I realized the truth.

I can’t do it alone.

I needed help. I tried to be honest with therapists, loved ones, close friends and with myself. They helped me see that sex and porn had truly become an addiction. While other destructive habits, by the grace of God, were just that—habits that I could change; my relationship to porn ran deep into my psyche.

Two major events came to pass that cannot go without mentioning. I met, courted, and married the love of my life. She has been a light for me — the real connection I had been looking for. She balances me, encourages me, and holds me accountable. She also, unfortunately, has undeservingly had to bear the weight of my addiction. Secondly, after fifteen years of confused atheism, I came to know God. There was no white light or altar call. Rather, it was the consistent and unexplainable grace of a handful of individuals and a slow, ongoing transformation of my behavior that brought me into relationship with the One who has the power to do what I never could. I realized that, with Him, I am never alone.

I sometimes wish that were the happy ending to the story, but God had other plans. The way out of darkness was paved with relapse, isolation, and new challenges. Coming to believe in God, the Creator of the Universe, awakened my conscience, and I looked back on my life with shame. My loving marriage ushered in a level of vulnerability that terrified me. I had been alone for so long, and togetherness created a tempest of emotions I could barely put into words.

But quitting porn was the hardest of all. It’s not like other addictions. I couldn’t flush my “stash,” or avoid the shady part of town where my drug was sold. The drug I was addicted to was in my pocket, at my workplace, and in my wife’s purse. Worse yet, the phones and computers where I could access porn were, in other cases, extremely helpful, even necessary.

But I knew that victory was hidden in these new challenges. I joined a 12-step fellowship which has benefited me in ways too numerous to mention. Today, I am surrounded by men and women who understand my story and are also finding their way back to God through recovery. I’ve downloaded Covenant Eyes on all my devices and taken advantage of the accountability and education opportunities I wish I had known about years ago.

My wife manages the passwords and is my ally in every sense of the word. Sometimes I think about the first day I was exposed to porn and wonder how the events of that day may have played out differently if Covenant Eyes had been installed on my family’s computer. But my story isn’t about the past. It’s about the future.

My journey is nowhere near complete. But along the way, I have come to realize the power of admitting that I can’t do it alone.
Thank God I don’t have to.