Intimacy (Part One)

Disclaimer: Because, as I'll establish, I'm no intimacy guru, the purpose of this post is for me to learn rather than impart knowledge. I've recently come upon these ideas, and I want to explore them more in depth.


"Intimacy" to some people is synonymous with "sex." A few months ago I probably wouldn't have been able to say much more about intimacy than that. Still, I've become convinced that there's much more than a single act to creating a healthy, intimate relationship--especially with a spouse. Even when it comes to physical intimacy with a spouse, there's much more to building a strong relationship than just "doing the wild thing." In fact, I believe that understanding the principles of intimacy, whether or not you call them that, is essential to healing a marriage affected by sexual addiction.

The word "intimate" comes from the Latin for "very close friend."  It has no sexual connotation and indicates friendship reaching to the innermost, deepest parts of each individual. You might think that sex addicts are experts at being intimate, but, ironically, an acting sex addict is incapable of being truly intimate with anyone. One reason might be because as addicts we are ashamed of our innermost selves--opening up fills us with terror and thoughts like "she could never love me if she knew what I am." So we disconnect from people--emotionally and physically. Another reason might be because lust addiction creates a false sense of control and safety. Creating actual intimacy requires shared vulnerability, so addiction lures with the promise that we can control when and how we feel pleasure, with no danger of being hurt by any living breathing human. It's all a lie, though, because not only are we not in control, but the lust--the thing promising control and safety--is slowly poisoning us, hurting us more than failed intimacy ever could (there's a full post on this idea coming up).

There is another word that is spelled the same as "intimate," though it's a verb who's third syllable is stressed (to "in-ti-MATE"). It means "to indicate or make known indirectly." It could be used in the sentence, "spouses who don't communicate well will try to intimate their desire to be sexually intimate through lame, half-spoken requests ending in 'you know'--e.g.: 'could we...you know...?' or 'I kind of thought we could...you know...?'" Using the verb is NOT how to build an intimate marriage! There is nothing inferred or indirect about the kind of intimacy that I'm talking about. Intimacy is intentional; it demands our deepest, innermost selves. Intimacy requires vulnerability and trust. It doesn't just happen. It's established through the conscious building of emotional, spiritual, and physical connections.

Emotional Intimacy

Emotional intimacy is more than just shared experiences or talking together. In my experience, it's most often a blend of the two. While sitting down next to each other and watching a movie/tv show together isn't meaningless, if it doesn't lead to a discussion (about how the movie/show was made, reactions and thoughts about it, analyses of the choices the characters made, or something else), it hasn't helped build intimacy. Some times after a movie it feels like the only shared experience was to get our brains dulled next to each other.

I've had relationships that are mostly based on watching movies and/or playing games together. I "hanged out" in this way with people for years, but by minimizing our discussions of hopes and fears for the future, present thoughts and plans, and past trauma and successes, our relationship was much more shallow than it could have been. Put another way, (this is from the movie Fireproof, based on ideas from the book The Love Dare) if I compare my relationship with my spouse to an education, I probably had my bachelor's degree in her by the time we were married, but I need to continue studying her until I earn my masters and eventually my doctorate degree in her after decades of marriage. Some relationships aren't even in higher education. They're repeating the same grade in jr. high over and over because they're too busy skipping school to watch movies, play video games, make out, or (insert other shared hobby here).

Here's this same idea from Jeffrey R. Holland's "Of Souls, Symbols, and Sacraments":

"... a total, virtually unbreakable union ... an unyielding commitment between a man and a woman, can only come with the proximity and permanence afforded in a marriage covenant, with the union of all that they possess--their very hearts and minds, all their days and all their dreams. They work together, they cry together, they enjoy Brahms and Beethoven and breakfast together, they sacrifice and save and live together for all the abundance that such a totally intimate life provides such a couple."

Part two coming up.

No Guilt-Free Onions (Part Two)

A few weeks ago I read a post by Andrew from the Row Boat and Marbles website about how sex is optional. In the comments was someone who was strongly opposed to this idea. Apparently, I wasn't the only one affected by this comment, since Andrew wrote a long response, and made the whole exchange into its own post. I wasn't completely satisfied with either side of the argument, so I'd like to weigh in a bit about both of their opinions as I continue my discussion of why my wife and I chose 3 months of celibacy in our marriage.

The main thrust of Andrew's post was that not having sex won't kill you, which (taken out of context) is a little vague. There are a lot of things that won't quite kill me...but are we talking about accidentally drinking a lethal amount of poison and later finding out it was actually just vinegar? Or are we talking about a failed rocket-bike over the grand canyon to break every bone longer than 6 inches in your body? Neither kills you, but one sure comes a lot closer.

Still, what negative effects might celibacy have? In the contradictory comment I mentioned, Matt S. said not having any sex has the following negative effects:

--"problems"
--failed marriage (his own)
--pedophilia (the Catholic church)
--"psychological dysfunction"
--"extreme psychological issues"
--"repression and more problems"
--"harm"

Hmmm...also not very specific. The most concrete parts like his marriage or pedophilia were also lacking in solid backing. He challenged Andrew to look at literature on sexual repression, so I decided to look into it a bit. There is apparently some support for increased aggression, and hypotheses about increased rates of rape. I saw so few studies that were focused enough on the kinds of situations that would shed light not this debate that I kind of doubt the commenter that they exist. Still, I have no doubt that trying to force celibacy on someone who desperately doesn't want it might help lead to aggression, rape, pedophilia and other terrible things. I have no doubt that Matt's marriage failed in part because his wife wasn't having sex with him as much as he wanted. But is there a direct causal link like Matt argues?

Because the addict's brain has literally been rewired by addiction, it's going to be painful to go against those embedded reward pathways! Not having any sex will be painful to a recovering sex addict. Pornography and masturbation has been our drug of choice to numb our perceived inadequacies, slights, and challenges. Not taking this drug is like exposing a raw nerve. Taking that a step further and not having any kind of sex is going to be even worse. Could this "pain" be qualified as "psychological dysfunction" or "extreme psychological issues"? That sounds like a stretch. Is it possible that a person might relapse with even worse behavior than if they had never tried to change their habits? Maybe. Is it possible that someone could do permanent damage to themselves by not having sex for any amount of time? I highly doubt it. Still, I strongly disagree that the only logical answer is to live with the debilitating addiction because there's a chance it could get worse. Like Andrew says, for a true addict there is no living with the addiction. It's up or down. And unlike the commenter, those of us who have sex addiction feel how dangerous it is to dismiss the idea of controlling our sexual appetites.

So it's going to be painful, and it may or may not feel like you're going insane. But why avoid having sex with your legally/lawfully wedded wife? Won't having sex alleviate some of the pressure/ temptations and be a great tool for your wife to show how proud she is of the progress you're making? Preview--no it won't and no it isn't.

Healing from the Damage of Sex Addiction

If you've injured your knee, you're going to avoid using it until it's healed. While there isn't any physical damage that would require someone to stop having sex, there has been damage to attitudes, habits, and the relationship.

Attitudes: The porn addict, though they may try to resist it, is going to have a warped sense of what his wife wants, what she finds pleasurable, and what sex is supposed to be like. The addict who is secretly still acting out isn't going to be able to communicate these expectations and opinions, and conflict is inevitable. After confession, the only way to figure out what opinions are unreasonable or inaccurate is to talk about it...and the safe ground of an agreed-upon period of celibacy will make such communication less pressured. Healing doesn't just happen; open conversation is necessary.

Habits: One of the biggest justifications I hear for masturbation is that it flushes out the system and helps with fertility by making room for new sperm. There's only one necessary system for making sure your reproductive system is working, and it's called "morning wood" (aka Nocturnal Penile Tumescence, a spontaneous erection experienced nightly by all men without penile dysfunction). On the other hand, it's been proven that masturbation and pornography can lead to premature ejaculation and erectile dysfunction disorder. Celibacy provides some time to completely reset the body's sex habits.

Relationship: The wife has been treated like a meat-sack sex object. Especially after hearing the extent of the addiction, she will wonder where her husband was mentally during sex, if having sex with him makes her a porn actress, and if he can ever be clean from what he's done. She needs to be so convinced deep down that he's in recovery that even a return to the source of the trauma--sex--won't bring the thoughts and feelings flooding back. And that takes time to reestablish that trust.


The third step of the 12-step programs is to trust God. I need to trust that giving up my addiction is going to end up in the kind of me that I want. I have to trust Him that I'm not going to be a sexually repressed, bitter individual like Matt S believes I will be. It takes faith to expose my nerves and endure pain...especially pain that is as easy to reduce as a quick glance to the attractive girl sitting next to me, and as easy to satisfy as a quick visit to the privacy of the bathroom. It's easy to accept the lies that say I can serve God and Mammon--after all, I know on a mental level what's morally right. Why can't I indulge in pornography just a little, and then not let it affect me as I do what I'm supposed to? It's not possible to not let it affect me, because it's infinitely more powerful than I am. I need to accept my powerlessness and let go of sex completely, with no strings attached, until I'm ready for it. And until my wife is ready for it. We're abstaining from any sexual relations because our marriage and relationship comes before sex.

Going back to onions and my wife's sensitive nose--it's true that I can be guilt-free and sneak onions nowadays since my wife and I aren't kissing anyways. But I'm not going to. I want to do everything I can to establish habits that will help heal my marriage and family, even the silly things like not eating onions--even for no other reason than because my wife doesn't like onion breath.

No Guilt-Free Onions (Part One)

It became clear early in our relationship that my wife is sensitive to smells. She insists on a certain brand of sausage because it reminds her of the kind they had on her mission. When she is pregnant she probably could make her way through a pitch black room by smell alone. Pregnant or not, she can smell whether I have had raw onions or garlic in the preceding 24 hours just by smelling my breath. In fact, she refuses to kiss me if she smells it. So whenever we have hamburgers, she jokingly (ok, half-jokingly) says that if I want any action, I better not eat the raw onions.

Back to that in a second. The first week after I told my wife I had relapsed was really difficult. I felt like I was doing everything I could to make a serious life-change: I had confessed to the bishop, I was studying the scriptures and talks, I was reading about sexual addiction every day, and I was working harder at home and at work. I was feeling a lot of resistance and temptation. I was also feeling withdrawal from my addiction and from screen-based entertainment, which we had agreed to forego for a month as a family.

During one of our nightly discussions that first week, we read the first chapter of a marriage book entitled The Sex-Starved Marriage. In it there was one paragraph addressed to wives that stood out to me:

I want you to be fully informed about what your spouse might be feeling or thinking so that you can prevent unnecessary heartache. I also urge you to consider the unfairness [in the statement that]... goes something like this: "I know you're sexually unhappy. Although I don't plan on doing anything about it, I still expect you to remain faithful." Hello, can you see what's wrong with this picture?

That night we also talked about a euphemism she had heard at a women's conference--the woman referred to sex as "polishing the husband's armor." As if the husband is going off to war every day and it's the wife's job to fortify him or else he's not fully protected.

And the last thing I want to mention was something our old bishop had said the first time I confessed. He said that now more than ever it was important for her to make sure I felt satisfied.

As we talked, I expressed how much I wanted to feel close to her, especially physically (though not necessarily sexually). So later that night when I wanted to cuddle with my wife--and don't mistake me, "cuddle" does not mean "have sex"--I was a little frustrated when she kind of gave me the cold shoulder. I wasn't expecting sex. I wasn't even expecting her forgiveness--all I wanted was some affectionate reciprocation! Or so I told myself.

Notwithstanding all that advice and how justified I felt, within 24 hours of that discussion we had decided to have 90 days of celibacy in our marriage. Here's why, and why I think all three of those--the author of The Sex-Starved Marriage, the woman who referred to sex as "polishing" her husband's "armor," and the bishop who encouraged my wife to make sure I felt sexually fulfilled--were misguided in talking about sex in that way, especially when it comes to marriages affected by sexual addiction.

The problem with the bishop's advice was that it puts the burden of the husband's recovery on the wife's shoulders. Not only is that unfair (giving the husband ammo against the wife if he fails), but it's not even possible. More sex is not going to fix the problem of lack of sexual control in a marriage! I repeat: the problem is a lack of sexual self-control...the answer needs to be more self-control, not more sex! It's a bottomless pit that will not--cannot--be filled. By images, masturbation, prostitutes, or even a well-meaning but misguided wife.

The problem with the "armor polishing" advice is similar. It implies that the lust temptations a man faces will be lessened if the woman satisfies her husband sexually. I don't know if this is true of not, but I'll share a personal story to illustrate that it's a misleading way of thinking. When my wife was pregnant with our last child, we were planning on her being induced a week or so before her due date. Because she wasn't progressing fast enough, the doctor prescribed doing "the wild thing" with me often to soften the cervix. This led to a week and a half of near-nightly sex. I wish I could tell you that I didn't have any relapses during this time because I was sexually satisfied by my wife. But I can't. Because it doesn't work that way.

One more note before I move on. Another reason this advice troubles me is the implications that if the husband fails, the wife was partly to blame. She wasn't attractive enough, or good enough in bed, or willing to do it often enough. To those who think that, let me be clear: there's nothing wrong with the wife! There's simply no competing with the addiction. To the sex addict, the brain has become hard-wired to expect new and progressively erotic situations. She could be the sexiest supermodel with an abnormally high libido and she still wouldn't be attractive or sexy enough to satisfy the black hole of his desire.

The difficulty with the reasoning in The Sex Starved Marriage has to do with the violation of trust accompanying addictive behavior. This isn't just a matter of the absence or presence of sex. When a person promises they will hold sex as a sacred thing only between them, then turns to something else to stimulate themselves, the trust between them has been seriously damaged. Adding more sex isn't going to solve anything. In fairness, I'm sure the author knows there's more to it than that, but sending this single message to an audience of sex addicts and non-sex addicts alike, without some sort of caveat, seems problematic to me.

This is where I kind of contradict myself: there is such a thing as physical touch as a love language. There is bonding that comes through appropriate sex between a husband and wife. A (worthy) husband will feel more satisfied in his marriage if his wife initiates more sex. I think each of these well-meaning advice givers have good intentions and correct ideas for many marriages...my concern is that more sex will do nothing to cure the underlying problem in a marriage marred by sex addiction--lack of sexual self-control and an addiction to lust. If anything, it can cause contention, lack of self-esteem, and slower recovery.

Back to the beginning--my wife is sensitive to smells. The smell of an onion on my breath will kill her sex drive as surely as the image of a hairy obese man in a speedo will kill mine. I've come to the conclusion though, that it isn't just onions that make me "smell." If I've violated her trust, even if she doesn't know it, I will stink spiritually. She may not even know why she doesn't feel like having sex. She may even go through with it because all the advice that encourages her to support me in that way. But not only will it not strengthen our marriage, it will continue to drive a wedge of unfulfilled expectations and manipulation between us. In part two I'll talk about why celibacy is necessary to start the healing process in a marriage scarred by lust addiction. In other words, why there is no such thing as guilt-free onions.

Juggling Surgical Equipment

The last few posts have been analytical and outward focused, though they have included personal comments and ideas. I also want to use this blog to reflect on my own person status--journal style. This post is mainly for me, but I put it here for any unexpected insights/comparisons someone might gain.

I told my wife about my relapse 25 days ago, and I've been in active recovery since. This is probably the longest I've refrained from masturbation and/or pornography in about three years. I've had a few week or two-week stretches, but not this much. Even before then, I don't know that I would consider any porn/masturbation-free time "active recovery," including the first year of my mission. So basically, in the next few weeks I'm going to break my 10-year record for no active self-medication, and I've probably already broken a 17-year record of time spent in active recovery. I almost want to write "Yay!" because I'm cautiously excited about my progress, but I'm also ashamed that I haven't had more success before, so I won't. One month doesn't really outweigh 17 years, so I'll keep my excitement to myself.

The key differences this time is the level of transparency with my wife, the amount of motivation I have, and the outside help I'm seeking. Let me talk a bit about each:

• Communication with my wife: I don't blame her for being crushed last time I told her; it was just hard for me to be transparent with her when it pained her to hear anything about it. I honestly couldn't have expected more from her, and I don't think I was ready to give more. This time, though, we've had nearly nightly discussions about physical, emotional, and spiritual intimacy; triggers, temptations, and struggles; plans, repercussions, and progress. I also told her much more about my past. In fact, I told her more, then after I started working on my addiction inventory,  I told her even more details that I hadn't thought to tell her before. Lastly, we've been doing nightly vowel check-ins. We read about this in Rhyll Croshaw's book; each night they discuss each of these topics as a couple: Abstinence (triggers, struggles), Exercise, I (what we did for ourselves), Others (what we did for others), Unexpressed Emotions, and Yay! (Success of the day). This makes me more conscious and cautious of where my thoughts go during the day, since I know I'm going to check in with my wife at night.
• Motivation: I honestly don't have an answer for why I've been so much more motivated this time. A part of it was because my wife stepped back and let me take charge more than last time.  Another part is that I've found much more inspiring material. No offense to my counsellor, but last time I wish he would have kicked me in the butt until I went to support groups and looked up blogs on the internet (although I don't think there were so many three years ago). I've kind of just run with it this time, though: I've read the SA white book all the way through, and I'm part of the way through it a second time, this time marking it up as much as I can. I read Rhyll Croshaw's book. I've been reading blogs and commenting, something very much out of my comfort zone. I've been working on various other areas of my life, like helping keep the house clean, spending more time with my wife and kids, working harder on my job, and avoiding unproductive/unhelpful media.
• Help from others: One of the big ones has been my bishop. He's been very nonjudgmental or excessively punitive, but at the same time he's taken appropriate steps that work for me. He's been very sensitive to the way my wife is feeling, which I really appreciate. He's also asked me to send him weekly check-ins. Maybe I'll share one of them one of these weeks. I've also been really influenced by blogs. In particular, I was really impressed by rowboatandmarbles.org. A fair amount of the information I found there I also came across elsewhere, but the fact I saw it there first and written so powerfully (you rock, Andrew!), blew my mind, repeatedly. I also was a bit surprised at how repetitive Andrew was about Sexaholics Anonymous...at times I even wondered if he was getting paid by them. :) Still, after going to my first two SA meetings and an ARP meeting, I can see why he endorses them so soundly.

Recovery is painful. At times it feels like juggling each aspect of my life, trying to keep everything up and running. Then I add two more balls--recovery and abstinence--and try to keep all of them still going. At other times it feels like I'm attempting to perform surgery on myself, struggling to dig deep into the problem and cut it out. It's painful and I know it's worth it, but there's a constant desire to just stop. So yes, recovery is uncomfortable and shame-inducing and painful. 

But one thing I don't read nearly enough about is how worth it it is. I'm only a few weeks into it, and I'm already noticing a huge difference in my attitude and habits. And not just from an admittedly religiously-biased perspective--I'm more productive at work, I feel better about myself, I spend less time on unimportant or destructive things in general, etc. The argument could be made that I was only debilitated because I've been brainwashed by my religion to believe these things are wrong. But I strongly disagree--I firmly believe there are many things inherently wrong with lust addiction, and, religious or not, life is going to be significantly better without it. If anything, it points to how right religion is and how misguided and unrealistic cultural norms are. They don't know the liberation of being cancer-free and the joy of being able to juggle. 

Why "Recovering Myself"?

This isn't my first blog dedicated to this topic. The first one--"My Addiction to Video Games and Pornography"--was kind of an experiment, since I had the suspicion that I didn't really know what was going on, with me or with the addiction. I've chosen this blog name to better reflect the nature of my approach and my focus. Here are some thoughts about why I chose it.

But first, to defend my previous title, I admit it was a step up to talk about it as an addiction. On my mission (after I confessed to my mission president) he had me give him a written update every week to let him know if I ever relapsed. The first time I did, I wrote, "I had an accident." To which he responded, curtly and appropriately, "This was no accident." He was completely right. This isn't a little problem, and it isn't something that can be minimized and go away. So at least I had that going for the title.

After a few posts, I realized that I may be addicted to video games, but it was extremely inaccurate to put that by itself AND ahead of pornography and/or lust. I've found video games, for me, to be a trigger that not many other people focus on, but after a little inspection it is clearly secondary to my addiction to lust.

There was something about the nature of the old title that bothered me. A few months later, I figured out what it was. One of the first assignments my bishop gave me after my recent confession was to read "Overcoming Addiction Through the Atonement" by Benjamin R. Erwin. At the end of it, I followed the link to the church website "combatingpornography.org." When I got there, I was momentarily surprised that it automatically rerouted to a webpage entitled, "overcomingpornography.org." I was slightly confused about it, until I thought about it. Our job as addicts is not to combat pornography. I've been combating pornography (half-heartedly, I admit) since the beginning. The goal isn't to combat, it is to overcome. That's why I changed my title from "My Addiction," which is simply describing the problem, to an action: "Recovering Myself."

I chose it partly because I love the word "recovery." It makes me think of someone who has been ill, and is on their way to being better. People who haven't become infected with this plague need to fortify themselves to keep from getting it. People who have need to work actively to overcome it. It might be a stretch to talk about it as something that is catching, so maybe recovering from cancer might work better. Either way, I love how the Caduceus, the symbol of medical recovery, is so similar to the story of the brass serpent in the Old Testament, the symbol of spiritual healing through the Savior.

"Recovery" also makes me think of something that has been lost, but miraculously and joyously was returned. As in, "my bike was stolen, but the police recovered it." This would be a great place to refer to the Savior's parables of lost sheep or a lost coin. Instead, I think the recovery of injured or captive soldiers behind enemy lines is another powerful way of thinking about it. I like how it emphasizes the recovery effort by church members who aren't addicted (cuz "never leave a man behind").

There are other meanings, though. If you break "recover" down, it becomes, "to cover again." Well if this is the case, what would we be covering, and how did it become uncovered? I remember a comment someone made in an Elder's Quorum years ago--we had just read D&C 121:45, and he remarked that he always thought of our minds as a polished metal ball, and if they have been "garnished" with virtue, then garbage could be dumped on it and the filth would slide right off. The garbage hasn't slid off from my mind for a long time. I want to re-cover my mind (with a protective layer of virtue?) so that it does.

The biggest concern I have with the title is the reflexive nature of it. There are so many people I need to rely on to be in recovery: my recovery group, my wife, my bishop, other blog authors, and--most importantly--my Savior. Recovering myself isn't really something I do on my own; still, it's something that starts with me. In my experience, if I'm not the one who really wants it, I find a way to avoid the help. I hide behind a tree so the recovery party doesn't find me, or I hide in the bathroom when the nurse comes with the medicine, or I don't get out of the way of the garbage that's coming towards me. I rationalize looking at inappropriate media ("it's not that bad"), or wasting time ("I've worked hard. I need a break."), or any number of other things. But I know that I'm worth getting back and getting better. And I know the Savior and others will be there for me as I work my own recovery.

What is a Pervert?

Most people have a fairly clear image come into their mind when they hear the word "pervert." To one person it might be a slightly overweight balding man with a greasy t-shirt who has locked himself in his mother's basement, looking at all kinds of sick pictures and videos. To another person it might be a stringy, squint-eyed man in a trench-coat, climbing around in trees outside people's houses trying to look in windows.

Wouldn't it be nice if that were the case? It would be convenient if there were some other, easily identifiable people who were the bad guys. Unfortunately, the reality of the situation doesn't even come close to matching these mental images. Sure, there are people trying to look through windows, and people locking themselves in basements looking at all kinds of dirty things, but these people aren't "others." They're our husbands, sons, parents, wives, daughters, and coworkers. And this isn't just exaggeration--there are shocking statistics that back this up. For instance,

• 42.7% of internet users view porn.
• 67% of young men and 49% of young women believe pornography use is acceptable.
• By their senior year in high school 100% of males have viewed pornography.

This isn't just the stringy or balding high-schoolers...this is 100%. By definition, unavoidable. I don't believe that 100% wanted to see pornography, but consensual or not doesn't change that statistic. And I don't make this point to make the innocent paranoid. If your husband calls to tell you he has an emergency at work and will be late, he's probably telling the truth. If your boyfriend spends late nights at the library working on his homework, he probably is just working on his homework. If your teen is going through a lot of tissues and lotion, he probably just has dry skin. Actually, no--scratch that--he probably has a pornography addiction. But not everything suspicious is addiction.

So perverts aren't "other"--they're a shocking number of everyday people we interact with every day. While in everyday use this is true, I want to contradict this idea. First, the word "pervert" comes from "per," meaning "all the way through," and "vertere," meaning "to twist." So by definition, a pervert is someone who is twisted all the way through. The "all the way through" is where I strongly disagree. I've read through a fair number of addiction blogs the last few weeks, and one of the main themes I see is remorse and disgust. These (we) are people who are flawed, addicted, diseased, and are working through more cognitive distortions than I can name. Still, they (we) want desperately to overcome their (our) addiction to lust. Even people who believe pornography is acceptable feel shame and remorse, whether they believe it or not. How do I know? Because pornography addiction is inherently mentally debilitating and morally wrong. And as children of God, even the most twisted, depraved sex addict has a part of him/her deep down, buried beneath piles of filth, that wants to repent and overcome. This hidden part is inherently good. So, in this way of thinking, there is no such thing as a pervert--no one is twisted all the way through.

What is a pervert? A shocking number of people may be "perverted," but no one is so warped they can't get themselves straightened.

Putting Lust in a Half-Nelson

A number of months ago, my mother in law asked me and my wife to look in a box to see if we were interested in any of the old things she was going to take to be donated. In the box was a package of Hai Karate--a cologne from the 50s or 60s that had belonged to my wife's grandpa. In it was an ad, which, I must say, transcends time with it's humor and quirkiness:

There are a few things I particularly like about it: the basic premise is that a man doesn't want to be seduced, even to the point of physically defending himself. If it was funny because it was ridiculous 60 years ago, how much more ridiculous is that idea nowadays? A man resisting the advances of an attractive woman? Even one who he is committed, or even married to! The implication, of course, is that if you use this product women will try getting physical with you, and if you're like this goofy-looking guy you can choose to resist (but of course no man actually would). 

This last week I came across this article by Andrew from the Marbles and Rowboats Blog. I'll have to admit that it kind of blew my mind. I never even considered that sex is optional! I've since read in the SA material a bit more about it. Here's a central paragraph:

"Our collective experience is that sexual sobriety will free us from a compulsive need to be sexual. We seek to restore the instinct for sexual intimacy to its proper place for reproduction and maintaining healthy ties with a spouse. When we stopped entertaining lust and sexual stimulation, the need to be obsessively sexual left us."

What an amazing idea! As someone still pretty early in the recover process, it fills me with hope and determination to know that this ever-increasing "need" to have sex--even with my wife--is not inevitable and is not even appropriate. I honestly had myself convinced that my love language was physical touch and my wife wasn't meeting my needs--which were, of course, pressing and unavoidable! It's such a relief to know that that's the addiction talking, and that I won't sustain permanent mental or emotional damage if I don't give in to those feelings. I'm starting to feel that this is true.

Another thing I really like about this ad is the nature of the encounter. She surprises him and puts him off balance. He recovers his balance, and employs his training to break her hold. Then he actively puts her in a half-nelson so she doesn't come at him again. Firstly...know that I don't advocate violence to any degree towards women of any kind. :) But secondly, I like this as an analogy for dealing with lust and temptations. When I'm confronted with some form of pornography (including immodesty), it almost feels like I'm being tackled or at least attacked. My eyes make contact and, in the split second before I have a chance to make a good or poor decision, I react a certain way. My throat feels tighter, my head feels swimmy, and my heart starts beating faster. My past actions have certainly made this reaction worse, but I don't choose to react in the way that I do. I can choose to fall over and lose my balance (or sometimes it doesn't even feel like a choice), or I can fight to keep that balance. After I keep from falling over, I'm still in lust's hold. I have time to consider what to do with the thoughts that are streaming towards me. Do I fight them, or do I give in? This is where the reliance on someone else comes in--

I remember practicing Judo with my Tae Kwon Do instructor. I was used to fighting from a distance, but in Judo you're up close and grappling for control. My instructor didn't hold back because I didn't know the moves...he overpowered me over and over, slowly teaching me moves and the best way to react. Without knowing those moves, I was absolutely powerless to get out of his holds. Like knowing moves and training to use them, knowing how to react to temptations is essential. It's possible to not give in to the temptation, but not without someone to show me the way. And even deeper, I need God's help to do something I can't do for myself. I can't take that impulse away, but he can and will if I ask. Here are a few pieces of advice about how to react to temptation that have recently made an impression on me:

• Admitting I can't resist on my own, and let God take it.
• Praying for the girl who's the source of my lust.
• Contacting someone who I can talk about it with. 

Lastly comes the half-nelson. This is where the "watch it, sister!" comes in also. I almost think of this as avoiding the situations where I know I'm going to be susceptible to attack. I think part of the reason I've had as much success with not relapsing over the last few weeks has been our family's change in screen-time policy. Before anything else, after I confessed to my wife and bishop, I signed up for Covenant Eyes internet accountability software. So I still have the choice to go to questionable sites, but I know that my wife will know about it. Also, we've all agreed to stop watching any entertainment of any kind for a while--no tv, no movies, no news, no video games, no documentaries, no anything by ourselves for entertainment purposes. I admit feeling withdrawal, but I also have to ask myself how far I'm willing to go to be in recovery? I read that it takes 3-5 years to establish a recovered lifestyle. Am I willing to not watch a single movie or show in that time if it means I'll be that much more likely to recover? Ten or twenty years from now, will I care if I didn't follow the news for a few years? Or play my beloved video games? I don't know if that's the right course of action, but I need to be willing to make that decision if it's necessary. 

Because I need a tight half-nelson.

My Origin Story

Usually when you hear "origin story," you usually expect someone to get super powers. I wish that were the case here. That would be much more appealing than what I'm about to share. Unfortunately, there will be no account of a mutant spider bite, the testing of a top secret government formula, or a devastating gamma ray burst (although Hulk fans may see some parallels between the two stories)...instead, the only super powers I gain are the powers of super-emotional-scars, super-self-hatred, super-hypocrisy, and a super-compromised-conscience.

The purpose/goal of this post is not to share every experience that relates to my addictions. Instead, I hope this post does three things: 1) analyze the subtle moral progression from smudged-to-dirty-to-filthy-to-toxic-to-radioactive, 2) explore the relationship between my hypocrisy and the growth of my testimony (it's definitely true that you can't serve two masters, but what happens if you try?), and 3) share the story of my addiction to lust as part of my effort to bury the behaviors. I hope to unravel some misconceptions for me as well as for others who find themselves in a similar or related situation.

Note: I will attempt to avoid crude language, although I want this to be as blunt, honest, and personal as possible. Also, I use the phrase “I was clean,” not to mean that I was morally blameless, but that I was successfully abstinent for a period of time.

The Beginning

I don't remember how old I was when my brother showed me and my friend pictures from a pornographic magazine, but I couldn't have been more than 10. I can’t remember why he did or what I said about it at the time; all I remember is the images themselves (though fuzzily), and my pre-pubescent mind and body tingling in a way that I knew was wrong, but was exciting because it was wrong.

By putting this first I don't mean to imply that my addiction is my brother’s fault. Even though he played a larger role later by being my unintentional supplier (I stole a lot of porn from him), I was by no means pure up until this point. From illicit schoolyard talk, excessive kissing of a neighbor girl, a brief experiment with self-fondling, and ogling of immodest girls at school and TV, I was on my way before that.

Anyway, skip forward to my thirteenth birthday: it was evening time and I was on the toilet (number 2). I noticed a razor next to me on the sink, and an impulse jumped into my head to shave the top of my growing crotch hair. I knew I wasn't supposed to do things like that, but I also suspected that the tingling awaited. As I reached for the razor, something happened that I have a hard time describing or even remembering exactly. It was an overwhelming sensation of warning--it was a distinct impression that "me in the future" wanted me in the present to not touch myself in that way. I paused for a while, slightly shocked and bewildered. [side note: I can't take this as evidence of the existence of God...although I firmly believe it is. I vaguely remember it being clear and overwhelming at the time, but over time I'm only left with the memory of a memory—not conclusive evidence] That moment is the one that I feel the most guilt about, even though there wasn't any pornography involved or any actual contact with the body part in question. I ignored the warning and picked up the razor.

The Black Hole

Over the next few years, my exploration into self-stimulation and pornography steadily escalated. You'd be surprised how many images there were in Newsweek, Reader's Digest, National Geographic, mail ads, etc that can stimulate a horny teenager. However, after many/most of my desperate searches for sexual images and self-stimulation I would throw away whatever I had found and pledge never to do it again.

One night as I was trying to find a hiding place (or a disposal area?) in the bathroom for one of these relatively-non-pornographic images, I reached into "the black hole." In a cabinet at the foot of the tub was a somewhat hidden unsealed part of wall (a gaping hole) that my family always referred to as a black hole. As my hand went in I felt loose paper. I pulled out a dated, but still thoroughly dirty, magazine. Not only were there images in the magazine, but there were dirty comics, stories, and interviews. After a while (a few days? a month? Not a year), my guilt was eating away at me enough that there was a tipping point. I threw the magazine away in the dumpster.

I felt proud; but the pattern--search, masturbation, guilt, disposal--repeated itself until I left the house six-ish years later. Over the years I stole/pilfered any pornographic or near pornographic image I could find, including ads in "innocent" magazines, dirty magazines I found, and (later) printouts from the internet and my brother's magazines and videos. Always I would use the black hole as a storage area. I never realized how fitting the name was: I was trying desperately to fill the black hole in my life, but it only grew deeper and more terrifying, refusing to be satisfied. And just like black hole’s extreme gravity, the closer I got the stronger it pulled.

Close Calls

I was almost caught on a few occasions. While trying to recover relatively non-pornographic images that I had torn out of "innocent" magazines and thrown away down a hole in the "black hole," I discovered that the renters in our basement could see my hand through a hole in the ceiling of their closet. They squealed in terror, and later I heard from my parents that the renters had seen a hand trying to reach "scraps of paper" in the top of their closet. My skin prickled and my face turned red as they told me. It suddenly occurred to me that I might be discovered. Part of me was relieved...but as the conversation continued, it became clear they had no suspicion what the scraps of paper actually were. Within the next few days I risked discovery to sneak into their apartment and retrieved the scraps of paper.

I learned to be very careful, to the point of being paranoid--one time I made a mistake though. I had taken a portion of a dirty magazine into the shower with me, and, in my self-loathing, left it crumpled up on the side of the tub. Several hours later I saw it there. Again, my skin prickled and I feared being found out.

There were other close calls. And there was always fear and paranoia.

Near Confessions

At one point in junior high school I really REALLY threw away the images and was determined not to look at immodest girls at school or women on tv, and I was successful for a few days. It wasn’t long, but I had a complete change of mind--I could feel clean for once! I felt so confident (and this has happened a number of times to post-19-year-old me) that I felt like I could mess up just once and still continue on with being good and clean. It's so illogical, but at the time it seems so convincing.

Another time, my dad took me out on a drive for "the talk." This was the only time either of my parents talked to me about anything sexual, but I mainly just felt awkward through the whole thing. The admission that my dad was attracted to other women, though he didn't act on it, and his description of wet dreams were helpful and memorable. When he asked me if I had ever seen pornographic pictures I told him the truth: that I had, and that I had thrown them away. He asked a few questions about how I got them, and I told him about my brother's magazines (which apparently wasn't too big of a surprise). Consoled by the fact that I had thrown them away, he didn't ask any more questions to gauge the extent of my involvement.

I mentioned that there are parallels between this story and The Hulk...I think Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is a more appropriate comparison, though. Dr. Jekyll chooses to take a drug to unleash his inner worst self, and is protected by his secrecy and the goodness (or at least appearance of goodness) of his "real self."  He despises himself for letting Mr. Hyde loose, but he refuses to stop. His masquerade eventually collapses when the power of Mr. Hyde grows and Dr. Jekyll can't control his transformations into Mr. Hyde or the drug. The big difference is that during this time in my life, my lies never collapsed; the big similarity was that the other part of me continued to grow, as did my self-hatred and lack of self-esteem.

My Mission

I was obviously aware of my hypocrisy and dishonesty, but I had also firmly believed that I would serve a mission. I still remember a thought I had when I was in my early teens: recalling how firmly I believed the church was true and how what I was doing was wrong, I thought, "what I'm doing may be wrong, but I won't ever doubt the church." I mainly remember my unwavering conviction in the rightness of the church. As you may suspect, when I got older, I began to doubt. Still, I had the thought, "I still have a strong belief that the church is good and will lead people to be good." Strangely, my addiction made me want to serve a mission, to warn others about the sins the church warns against, regardless of whether I could do so honestly or with power (both of which I couldn't).

So I lied straight in the face to my bishop, stake patriarch, and stake president and went on a mission. When I went into the MTC I was flooded with spiritual experiences and positive influences. I prayed hard. My testimony grew. I didn't touch myself or look at sister missionaries. I got out of my comfort zone and became bolder. I began to love the Book of Mormon. Then I left the protection of the MTC and went to my mission in northern Europe. Firstly, I couldn't completely overcome my fear of talking with people--it was true I was shy and hadn't been outside the US before, but I think the biggest problem was my eyes (there were some very immodest women there). I didn't have magazines and I didn't masturbate, but I wasn't completely clean, mentally. I had put a bandaid on a bone-deep, gangrenous wound, and it was festering, regardless of my fervent prayers and efforts. I could be good in a completely sterile environment, but eventually it came creeping back.

About eight months into my mission I was left alone in my apartment waiting for my new companion. I was tempted to do something, anything...but I read my scriptures.

About a year into my mission I had a wet-dream-turned-self-stimulation. This turned into a near-nightly habit of touching myself. Eventually, this turned into a determination to come clean with my mission president, even if it meant I would be fully exposed and sent home. During the next interview I interrupted when he started to talk about making me a trainer (which I really wanted, though probably not for the best reasons). It felt really good to get it out. At the same time, though, I never overcame masturbation (and even secretly looking at somewhat dirty pictures from newspapers/my own drawing). I came to thoroughly love teaching, the scriptures, the church, the members, the investigators, my companions, and the country. It was all clouded and weakened, though, by my uncleanness and my fear. The country I was in was difficult (no one was surprised that I didn't baptize anyone...and in fairness, I might not have baptized anyone even if I were perfectly clean), but I'm convinced that my inability to consistently be worthy of the spirit was the primary reason for my lack of success and leadership positions.

Return

Throughout the second half of my mission I noticed a pattern. Whenever I was transferred I would have a few weeks of success in overcoming my returning addiction. This was true when I returned home. I had quite a period where I was mostly clean, helping around the house, seeking out work, etc. It was somewhat short-lived, though, since I stole a few more magazines/videos from my brother. There were simply too many memories and habits that I couldn't overcome, but desperately wanted to. After not too long, I decided that I needed to get out of the house. I talked with one of my friends who had served a mission, and we both moved to nearby student housing while we went to school.

One of the things I should mention is my addiction to video games. As my addiction to pornography grew in my teens, I would escape my guilt and spiritual/emotional numbness by playing video games. They occasionally were graphic--either violent or (when I dared) sexually explicit, but they very often were excessive. Because they were so closely connected, after my mission I avoided video games entirely. I didn't know what would happen, but I also didn't want to find out.

Enter My Wife

I wasn't actively trying to date...passively, maybe. The only thing I knew was that I was entranced after I went on a blind date with an intriguing girl. I wasn't threatened by her sexually--don't take that to mean that she was ugly, because she wasn't. I was very attracted to her, although most of it was intellectually and emotionally. But she was modest! I loved that she had a body that she could show off, but she chose not to. Not only was I not tempted to think of her inappropriately, but I was strengthened in my desire to overcome my addiction to pornography and masturbation because of her. During this time my thoughts and habits were clean. As I was getting more serious with her, I had a growing desire to tell her everything about my past. I was working up to it over a number of weeks, until I decided to ask for advice from our bishop. He recommended that I not tell her. I was amazed...and relieved! He said that most girls assume that guys will experiment with pornography and masturbation, but that it was behind me and I didn't need to worry her with it. I went with it because I was clean, although I knew she would have been horrified if I told her. I also don't think I accurately depicted just how long and entrenched I was in it. I'm glad he had that much faith in me, but I can't help but think it was a mistake. Maybe not, though. Why didn't God get me caught early on? Why didn't He tell the bishop to tell me to tell her? I believe He wants me to willingly come back and change. He's not going to force me in any way, although just thinking about it brings me close to tears, wishing he would have.

After Marriage

I don't have a very clear recollection about when I started looking at porn and masturbating again after getting married. Which is strange, since it's such an unbelievably more significant event. It may have to do with a general lack of motivation—neither of us were developing healthy habits (mainly poor eating, too much entertainment, and lack of exercise). Video games started up around this time too, I believe.

Many times I tried to regain my cleanness. Often I would go weeks without a relapse—I would even mark in a little schedule book in a secret code when I would relapse; afterwards I would set goals and try to go longer. The biggest difficulty I had was that whenever I had a moment of weakness in one aspect of my life, it would open a hole that would cause a relapse. Then in my frustration at relapse, I would indulge in other bad habits. The biggest weakness that started this chain reaction was video games. I would take a break from my homework to play video games. A quick break turned into a long break, which turned into open procrastination, which turned into dark feelings, pornography, and masturbation. It was a vicious cycle, especially since I honestly enjoy video games and don’t think they’re evil in themselves.

Confession

I eventually got to the point where I couldn't delude myself into believing that I could take care of it on my own. I knew I needed to tell someone, just like I had on my mission. I wasn't going to talk with a counselor or our bishop before I told my wife, so I told her. And as I feared, it crushed her. I was surprised at just how strong her reaction was—my paranoia at getting caught and guilt of what I’d done had lead me to believe she already knew on some level. But she had believed I was completely pure, in part because I complimented her modesty when we were dating.

The next Sunday I confessed to my bishop (together with my wife), and we agreed that he would take my temple recommend and that my wife and I would go to a counselor. I was clean for a month; then (alone in a hotel room) I relapsed. I told my wife right when I got home, and it crushed her again. The bishop and we agreed that I wouldn't take the sacrament for a while. During this time the counselor was helpful—he shared some great ways of thinking about addiction and pornography that I still think about. My wife didn't like him very much, mainly because he was...lenient?...in his attitude towards me, pornography, and addiction. There was probably more to it, but we eventually stopped going, mainly because of her feelings, my lack of relapse, and the cost. I think we both were anxious for the issue to just go away. However...

Secret Relapse

I forget the exact timeline, but at some point (maybe a bit longer than the first relapse in the hotel, although I fear not), I masturbated in the shower. I justified it--and that I didn't need to tell my wife about it--by saying that there wasn't any pornography involved, and that it was just a small set back. I'd simply get back on track and it would all be fine. But there was blood in the water. The next relapse I justified by saying that it wasn't hard porn, and that I could still get back on track. After that, I wasn't strong enough to see her crushed again, and I'd gotten myself in "too" deep (how would I explain that I had relapsed but hadn't told her?), and I could still turn it around, right?

It's been about three years since I told her, and there have been a number of pendulum swings in that time. The most recent attempt at abstinence was one of my best, though it wasn't long-lived as during certain periods described above. It was always white-knuckled abstinence, though...never recovery.

Second Confession

As of writing this, I confessed a second time to my wife two weeks ago. She was still heart-broken, but knows that...Actually, I'm going to leave it at she was heartbroken with no "but" attached. Sigh. She knew that things (in marriage, in work, parenting, personally) weren't going well, but at some level she didn't want to admit what that meant. I met with the bishop, confessed more fully to her, shared this blog entry with her, started researching addiction recovery blogs, started attending recovery meetings, and kept in contact with the bishop. Things feel quite different this time, in a good way, but it's up to me to keep it that way.

So I didn’t get super powers. If anything, not only did I not get super powers, I sold whatever “powers” I may have had. I would consider sexual purity, a sense of moral propriety, a clear conscience, and an untarnished understanding of femininity "powers" essential to anyone in the church who wants to be happy. But if I sold my super powers, what did I buy? At least Esau in the Old Testament, who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage in a moment of desperation, got some nourishment from the meal. Instead, I’ve bought something that corrupts everything good about me instead of fulfilling my hunger. So I sold my super powers for a bowl of poison porridge. Still, it took me 17 years to get where I am in this mess--it's going to take a long time to undo that damage. With detox, help from God and friends, and a growing understanding of myself, I have faith that I can recover myself from my addiction to lust.