Good in Parts

I wanted to write a post about something my counselor told me and my wife this week. He calls it "viewing ourselves in parts."

The basic idea is that Satan loves it when we think in black and whites. It's either "I'm worthless. No one is as messed up as I am. I'm unfixable" or it's "I'm fine. We could easily fill the conference center with people who struggle with this issue. No problems here."

The truth is that we each are made of countless parts, some of which are contradictory. There's a part of me that's humble. There's a part of me that's prideful. There's a part of me that's addicted to pornography. A part of me that loves my wife and children. A part that is service oriented. Part that's selfish. Wise. Guilty. Confident. And on and on.

The story of the old cherokee grandfather telling his grandson about two wolves battling inside him is applicable here. Except instead of just two wolves, there are dozens, of every color, shape, and disposition. We sometimes feel like our addiction erases (or at least trumps) every positive aspect of our past. The truth is that there are parts of us that are still worthy, valorous, and spiritual. But they've grown comparatively smaller because we've been more preoccupied feeding the selfish, the dirty, and the corrupt.

One final thought. Sometimes I don't work on feeding the best parts of me because I fall into all-or-nothing thinking. I think, "if I can't read more than five minutes in the scriptures every day, it's not worth it." I got to thinking, though, how much is five minutes a day? Let's say in five minutes I can read one page in the scriptures. If I would have spent that five minutes over the 17 years of my addiction, I would have read the standard works two and a half times (The Bible--1590 pgs + The Book of Mormon--531 + The Doctrine and Covenants--294 + Pearl of Great Price--61 = 2,476 pages; 6,205 days). 

Or, if I would have spent five minutes a day reading general conference talks (assuming I can get through two a week), I would have been able to read every single general conference talk since 1971--including from the women's meetings/Welfare sessions...with a few hundred left over (I didn't count every one, but I randomly sampled this many--41/36/32/35/38/36/38/38/37 with an average adding to about 1,540. 1,768 bi-weekly talks over 17 years). Imagine if I'd spent ten minutes a day and done both the scriptures and the general conference talks! How would my life look if I had read the scriptures two and a half times and studied every conference talk available on the church's website? I suspect if each day I could make a slight, even imperceptibly minuscule effort to improve any part of me, over the long term there would be monumental changes.

It's easier to give up trying to improve ourselves because Satan tells us we don't need it (cuz we're so awesome) or it won't help (cuz we're so messed up). But we need to trust that God--who knows us perfectly, including our  messed up parts and our amazing parts--loves us and sent his son to atone for us because we can change and are inherently of great worth.

Is Pornography Addiction a Disease?

I think we can all agree that Ebola is a disease. It has a variety of violent symptoms, it is clearly communicable, it's universally recognized as one, etc. A disease is something that spreads by sneezing in someone's face, right? Is calling pornography addiction a disease a way to minimize it? As if we're saying, "Satan coughed in my face and I contracted a pornography addiction." Or is calling it a disease a helpful way of thinking about this widely misunderstood topic, including by addicts and their loved ones? Let's look at the definition, so see if we can get a better sense of what a disease is:

a disordered or incorrectly functioning organ, part, structure, or system of the body resulting from the effect of genetic or developmental errors, infection, poisons, nutritional deficiency or imbalance, toxicity, or unfavorable environmental factors

So "infection" is only a small part of what causes a disease. "Poisons" and "toxicity"--according to this definition--both can be factors causing the "disordered or incorrectly functioning" body part. Another definition is more general: "Illness or sickness in general." In this extremely lenient definition, almost any unfavorable, abnormal body function could be considered a disease.

So there's no help in the definition of "disease" that would disqualify addiction. Those who recognize pornography as the driving component of their addiction would probably call it a poison or a toxin. They would certainly conclude their inability to stop was a sign of incorrect function. However, there are many people who don't view addiction this way. As I talked about in a previous post, there is a sizable part of the population who view sexual deviants as those who merely possess a high sex drive and a few unreasonable behavioral expectations. The only thing they would say is abnormal about "pornography addiction" are those who want to fight it.

Back to the dictionary: more interesting than its current use is the root origins. In 14th Century Old French, "disease" was "dis" (without, away) + "aise" (ease). It was used to mean "discomfort, inconvenience." Other words associated with it include  "lack,want; discomfort, distress; trouble, misfortune." I find this so fascinating not because I consider addiction to be a discomfort and an inconvenience, but because I find that discomfort, lacking, trouble, etc to be the root cause of it. It's because of my inability to cope with discomforts and wants that I self-medicate.

The problem I have with calling addiction a disease is that it sounds like we're throwing up our hands--"It's totally not my fault that I contracted it, and there's nothing I can do about it." I think this attitude comes because almost always someone who contracts a disease isn't really at fault. Still, a lot of the Ebola news going on recently (whether or not you think it's ridiculous hype) focuses on people who have put themselves at risk and how those decisions affect them and everyone they come in contact with. There's a focus on agency and choice there that I think is very applicable to this discussion.

If we say that pornography addiction is a disease, I think we need to be very clear what brought this disease on--choices to repeatedly put oneself at risk--and what causes it to continue--more choices to not seek treatment or to not follow the "doctor's orders."

One more factor. There is a growing body of research that indicates that pornography addiction is a real thing that manifests itself physically...in changes in the addict's brain. So regardless of where it came from or what it will take to overcome it, the impairment is real and will not just go away. Andrew from rowboat and marbles compares it to diabetes--asking someone "why don't you just stop looking at pornography already?" is like asking someone with diabetes "why don't you just stop having diabetes already?" That's about as helpful as this psychiatrist (Bob Newhart):


I'm going to say yes, pornography addiction is a disease. It's NOT a disease like the Ebola that a person unknowingly contracts who's next to a person with a fever on an airplane. It IS a disease like the Ebola that a person contracts who intentionally travels to an area, choosing to put themselves at risk (though the reasoning for the analogy--selflessly helping Ebola patients--is clearly different than for pornography addiction--selfishly pursuing pleasure). It's a disease that the sufferer contracted and repeatedly aggravated while putting themselves at risk, whether or not they knew the extent of the danger. It's a disease that is extremely difficult to treat, and has a physical component that won't go away just through will power and positive thinking. But pornography addiction is a disease that can be treated--through following the example of those who have already beaten it into remission, taking advantage of the tools provided through organizations like the Addiction Recovery Program/Sexaholics Anonymous, and by turning to the Master Physician.

Three Pillars of Recovery

So I'm still struggling, even though I've made great strides in building up my support network. It's taken me a while to come up with a theory to explain why reliance on others isn't enough--I've decided that successful recovery requires more than any one type of action. In fact, (caveat: this is "Recovery According to Robert") I believe recovery can be effectively described as having three key factors, and if any one is lacking the whole thing comes tumbling down eventually.

Safeguards
This is the area where I'm currently lacking. This was the area that I started working on (by getting rid of my smart phone) before I even confessed to my wife. And now that I think of it, this was the area that I was having a lot of success controlling when I was doing the best in my recovery.

What I mean by "safeguards" are those recovery actions that make it harder for the addict to come into contact with triggering material. So getting rid of my smart phone was a huge thing. Setting up a filter on the computer (which is more of an accountability thing, since it sends an update email to my wife instead of stopping me from accessing anything), getting rid of triggering media (whether directly triggering or only closely connected with it--like video games for me), etc. These are those kinds of things that I will set up when I'm in recovery because I don't even want the temptation later on when my sanity wanes.

For example, I've struggled recently with getting sucked into video game news online, which impacts the work I get done, which makes me feel guilty, stressed, and more prone to act out. SO, I'm planning on not even bringing my laptop on campus for the foreseeable future--there are computers on campus that I can use, and I won't even have to face the decision.

Accountability
Safeguards are only good if you have a way of enforcing them. And, for me, if I'm the only one who knows about the safeguard, that means the only thing that's actually keeping me from going down the path to acting out is me, and maybe a few seconds to get around whatever barrier I've put in my way. And that's not effective. This is where a support network comes in. When I have a group of people who I'm responsible to contact and update about my recovery, that means it's not just me anymore.

A support network requires work to set up (exchanging phone numbers with recovery folk, getting comfortable contacting them, setting up counseling, reporting to bishop, talking with friends/spouse, etc.), but when I'm in the habit of reaching out, my support people become my safety net to catch me when I start to fall.

Recently, I've made progress in this area. My problem is actually reaching out to my support folks when I'm in trouble. My desire to not bug people and my dislike of phones in general shouldn't be an excuse, but it has been. Also, I'm working on setting up counseling. Like, literally present tense--as I write this sentence I'm on hold with family services setting up an appointment. Ok, appointment set. See, writing this post (and having a desire to not write in the future tense about counseling) already has had a positive effect.

Motivation
This is a tricky one, but this much I'm sure of: all the safeguards (short of complete immobility, 24/7) and all the accountability in the world won't count for anything if I'm not committed to recovery. How does one build motivation for recovery, though? ...asked every spouse of an addict, ever. One big thing is hitting rock bottom (so setting and holding firm to boundaries makes the reality of the addiction sink in, potentially increasing motivation). Another is the effects of the other two things I've mentioned--having effective safeguards and being accountable/not wanting to let people down is a big motivator. But perhaps the best thing of all is seeing recovery in action, which is why actively attending recovery groups is such a huge thing.

Recognizing and owning the truth about oneself is probably at the heart of finding motivation. Breaking down the lies I tell myself--through interacting with others or journal writing or whatever--is part of what defines "hitting rock bottom" for me. 

My scripture study is the biggest thing I can do here. It's been really helpful to link my inventory to specific scriptures. Still, this is a subject I probably will write on in the future, since I sense motivation is more enigmatic than I'm representing it here.

It often feels like I'm teetering on two legs of a stool, trying to keep from tumbling down. One firm gust of wind can send me over unless I find a way to get all the legs firmly on solid ground. Still, I'm confident it will be worth it, even if it takes more--and smarter--work to make recovery happen.

A Stellar Analogy

Discovery.com

Our sun fuses 655 million tons of hydrogen into 650 million tons of helium every second. And while 655 million tons seems like a lot, it's barely a fraction of the total mass of the sun. This process has been going on uninterrupted for a very long time, and will continue to go on for several billion years until the sun converts so much hydrogen into helium that there's a fuel crisis. What happens when the increasing amount of helium in the sun's core interrupts the fusion process is the subject of this post and an analogy to help illustrate the relationship between what we do and who we are.

But first, a few caveats: I'm not an astronomer, and I don't really know these complicated systems that well. I undoubtedly will get things wrong. Still, I'm not concerned with the numerous ways stars develop and can end--this is one possible way that I find interesting and applicable. Also, I recognize that there are a number of significant flaws in this analogy. Try to take what you can from it and ignore the illogical parts.

Ok, let me switch from talking about our sun to a much larger star, which has slightly different rules/outcomes. After the helium chokes the hydrogen fusion in the core, the fusion process shifts to a shell around the core. The fusing shell of hydrogen compresses, heats, and ignites the helium in the center to start its own fusion process. The helium in the core fuses into carbon, which eventually collects enough to choke the helium fusion at the core, which creates a second shell around the core. So the outside of the star is a shell of hydrogen fusion, inside of which is a shell of helium fusion, inside of which is a core of fusing carbon. You can probably see where this is headed. The carbon creates neon, which creates oxygen, which creates magnesium (or silicon?), which creates iron (this is a gross simplification of a very complex and poorly understood process, but whatever). Here's an illustration from wikipedia:

The star has always fought a battle, with gravity pushing in and internal pressure from fusion pushing out. At this point the increasingly ineffective substances nearer the core (iron as a fuel is about as "inefficient as stones in a fireplace") don't provide the pressure to keep the gravity at bay. Without the outward pressure of fusion, the star collapses in on itself. Depending on its size, it will either completely collapse (forming a black hole) or it will collapse then ignite, exploding much of its fuel at once in a supernova. Either way, the star is no more.

Ok, analogy time. We are the stars. And while actual stars burn substances that they've had all along, we get to choose the type of substances that we put into our system. Hydrogen is efficient--it stands for healthy gospel living: selflessly helping others, working to understand ourselves and our place in God's plan, etc.--anything healthy, good, praiseworthy, or virtuous. The other elements stand for other, increasingly less noble actions. Helium might be a hobby that doesn't help further your long-term goals, carbon might be an off-color Youtube video, neon might be a dependence on sugar, etc. Iron and its ilk are the really destructive habits--pornography, drugs, etc. Once these are clogging our life, a major breakdown is inevitable. 

We might have a portion of things we do that aren't conducive to healthy living, and we tell ourselves it doesn't pose a huge problem. Like the sun right now--it has 25% helium, but that doesn't mess with its core process. Similarly, we might feel like we can spend time on good things--instead of better or best things--and it won't affect us. Eventually, if we're not careful, we find a shift in our habits. Instead of being excited about daily prayer and scripture study, we are more pumped about watching uplifting movies and reading happy novels. After a while the movies aren't quite as uplifting and the novels aren't quite as happy. Each shift of action provides less outward force to overcome the pressures we face. At some point we don't "have the energy" to work on that skill we've always wanted to. More TV takes it place (carbon and a bit of neon). 

Eventually, if we haven't carefully filtered what comes into our life, we're producing and trying to use iron as a fuel. And iron is not a fuel. Pornography does not provide anything of worth to us as human beings. It's a waste and if we try running our lives on it, we will end up imploding (becoming spiritually dead and morally bankrupt) or exploding (becoming criminally obsessed with sexual stimulation until we're no longer safe to be in society).

A star can't get rid of the iron or other elements it's created, but that's where we're different. We can replace inefficient substances with more efficient ones. Still, it's not enough to just overcome iron. We need to get rid of all the other elements that lead up to it and replace them with the purest, most efficient fuels. Only a pure source of fuel can propel us through all life's pressures. And unlike this analogy, there is upward progression. We can be purified, building ourselves upward "line upon line and precept upon precept."

We need to figure out what things we put into our lives that we justify because they provide "energy" ("I need to play video games when I come home--I've had a stressful day and I need to relax"), ignoring the fact that they can lead to potentially crippling actions that will destroy our ability to overcome life's pressures. We also need to ask ourselves if the things we fill our lives with are wholesome and uplifting enough to provide us with the force we need to resist outward pressures. Today when I met with the bishop and talked about my plans for recovery, he shared a great insight that resonates with what I've been saying. He warned that I not get too caught up with the recovery actions (going to recovery group, checking in, etc.) that I miss the most important question about my actions--"is this something that's going to invite the spirit into my life?" Similarly, the process of purifying our fuel might be as simple as being sensitive to the things that offend or invite the spirit.

In other words, to become the most efficient and powerful "suns" we can be, we need to fill our life with the purest, most efficient fuel there is--The Son. 

(Re)Lapse in Judgement

When I started going to Sexaholics Anonymous about 8 months ago where we used to live, I met a guy named Kyle whom I came to really respect. He had great spiritual/recovery insights, he cared about his health, and he seemed motivated in his recovery (which he had much much more of than me at the time). And he seemed like a legitimately nice, decent human being. Over the space of a few months, though, Kyle seemed to slip from his confident place of recovery and his focus on others. Each week he would talk about how things weren't where they should be for him and his recovery, but each week I was glad to hear him acknowledge where he came up short--that meant he was going to be alright, right?

Eventually, Kyle got to a point where he started having close calls. One week he caught himself in obsessive thinking and fantasy. The next he actually looked at pornographic images. He caught himself before acting out, and I thought, "ok, now he's going to be alright." A few weeks later, though, and his sobriety date went from many months to a few days. What happened? He knew there was a problem. He knew what he needed to do. He seemed so solid, and he even seemed to take his recovery less for granted than I did (I was impressed enough by his recovery that I didn't think he could relapse). Yet even his amazing attitude and knowledge couldn't stand up to a lack of recovery actions.

I feel like Kyle. Not that I have such amazing insights, motivation, and knowledge, but that I've been gradually sliding from a solid period of recovery into a casual, troubled relapse. And I did. I relapsed last week. And not the "technical" relapse of breaking my sobriety definition, but to full acting out and porn (though not porn with sex acts or even full nudity...so I guess that's something).

After it happened I was dumbstruck. I didn't want to relapse! I had several months of recovery! How could this happen? When I look back, though, I see that it took months for me to get to the place where I was capable of relapsing. For the past month I haven't had a support network--my SA friends I would call, my sponsor, my bishop, and even my nightly check-ins with my wife had all gone away when we moved. I figured my conviction that I couldn't do it on my own was all I needed to do it on my own. What!?

And I guess that's not completely true. I confessed to my bishop a few weeks ago, I've been going to the ARP group, and my check-ins with my wife and brother have happened occasionally. Still, as I admitted in my last post, my recovery actions haven't even come close to outnumbering my addiction actions. Duh I'm going to relapse! (Not that that justifies anything.) Recovery programs only work if you work them! If you're not working them...they're not going to work.

So here's what I'm going to do. Actually, let me copy/paste the list I made at the end of my email to my wife that I sent within a few hours of relapsing:

I'm going to ask a few guys ([specific names]) at ARP meeting next week if we can exchange phone numbers and stay in contact throughout the week. 

I want to talk with the bishop again and confess, then ask him if I can stay in contact with him through email every week. 

I'd like to talk with him about getting one-on-one counseling for me. 

Tonight I'm going to call the guy [my former sponsor] tried getting me in contact with, then I'll call [my former sponsor] until I can get daily support from anyone else (I'm sure he will be more than happy to continue working with me). 

We need to have nightly checkins. At the very least, I NEED for us to have nightly checkins. I'd like to make "did you use solo screen time for entertainment today?" a question you ask me or that I address with specifics every single day. I think that was key. Even if the answer is yes, I'll be able to tell you if it was a healthy use or not.

I'd like to have a period of in-marriage celibacy. We can talk about how many months would be appropriate.

I am set to meet with my bishop on Sunday where I'll confess about this relapse and ask about the weekly emails and counseling. I called my former sponsor, though he didn't answer and I didn't call back. I also didn't call the guy he tried to get me in contact with since I know the guy lives 45 minutes away and I have a deeply embedded desire not to bother people (and a hatred of phone calls). Lame, I know. I haven't met with my ARP group since then, but I'm planning on asking for contact information from one of them after the meeting tomorrow. My wife didn't want our in-marriage celibacy to have a set time period, which I can understand. 

I thought of two other items for the list since then: I'm going to do daily self-assessments based on my deposits and withdrawals idea from my Recovery Account post. Then I'm going to (or would like to) email that list to a support person. If anyone wants to volunteer to get daily emails from me, it would be pretty easy! I know you want to! :)  Anyway, I have a person in mind, but we'll see. Also, I'm going to begin officially working on my steps, including writing about them. I'll probably have my brother work through that step work with me. 

I don't really feel like this relapse was starting over. There have already been a number of difficulties that have come from it that I've handled better than before. Only time will tell if I can use this setback to propel myself back onto the Lord's side, but I'm confident I've learned something about recovery that will help me avoid this particular kind of lapse in judgement in the future. 

Our Recovery Account

I'm not in the best way. (Here is where I edited out three paragraphs of dwelling on my difficulties. In short, we moved and I lost contact with recovery support and bishop. Since we've been here I haven't reconstructed my recovery network or contacted the bishop. On top of that, I've reached my max with schooling, teaching, and home fixit issues like leaks/water damage and my son almost melting our microwave...yeah, smoke stench. In all that word vomit, I came up with a comparison of recovery work to a bank account, and that's what I'd rather have this post be about.) 

If recovery is a bank account--recovery acts coming in minus addiction acts going out--I've been slowly headed towards bankruptcy since we moved. For example, after moving I didn't go to recovery meetings for three weeks (in my defense, my wife specifically asked me not to go so I could stay home and help her). Near the end of that time my wife and I had the most serious fight of our marriage. For about three days a cloud of angry silence brooded over the house, and I thought a lot of angry thoughts. I think I've mentioned somewhere about how that resolved, but that's a sign to me that not all is well in my recovery. Also, yesterday was a bad day for my recovery. (Time for honesty...you, blog, will stand in for my sponsor and bishop, won't you? Thanks.) I broke some of my personal rules, some of which were worse than others--rather than working the whole time on school work, I read news articles about Apple's new tech, watched some YouTube videos about video games, and clicked on an image search when it wasn't really essential. Actually...let's keep it really real. It was completely unnecessary to click on, I "accidentally" saw a thumbnail picture with nudity in it, and I should lose my 8 month sobriety date for it.

Back to that after I pursue this idea of the bank account. So the basic idea would be that recovery happens when we have a positive number in our account, and addiction happens when there's a negative number. I like this idea better than just "acting out = not in recovery" and "everything else = recovery." But let me get specific with a table, cuz I'm into that kinda thing:

Deposits to Recovery Account	Withdrawals from Account
Actively avoiding lust hits. Progressive victory over lust.	The reluctant, unavoided, or actively pursued lust hit.
Reaching out to fellow addicts in a moment of weakness.	Unmanaged anger or resentment for real or imagined wrongs.
Participating in recovery meetings.	Spending time or money on selfish wants instead of needs.
Studying addiction recovery materials and work on 12 steps.	Allowing mental fantasies to run wild, whether sexual or not.
Actively engaging in scripture study and prayer.	Using sex with spouse as a release for sexual desires.
Thinking about and serving family members and others.	Justifying inappropriate actions instead of owning them.
Daily checkins with spouse or sponsor.	Acting out sexually.

If I look at it this way, I'm averaging about 2 1/2 out of 7 on the deposits side and 4 out of 7 on the withdrawals side. Yeah. Sinking ship.

So what do I do from here? The first step is this blog post, admitting to myself and others that I'm not "in recovery," including giving up my sobriety date. Secondly, I need to reach out to my wife and start our daily checkins again. Also, I need to strengthen my recovery network: I need to talk with the bishop, exchange phone numbers with other guys in my ARP group, and contact my brother more often. I'm still trying to wrap my head around why I have such a hard time keeping up my scripture study and personal prayer, but I think that needs to be a part of this recovery self-intervention as well. I've been disturbed/upset by things I've read on the WOPA side of the LDS Addiction Recovery Website, so I need to stop checking some of those sites.

Ok. I feel much less disturbed. If I'm being honest with myself, I haven't had consistent progressive victory over lust during the last 8 months anyways. So giving up my recovery date, even though I didn't technically act out, will give me a chance to make the date mean what I want it to mean. And once I start making more recovery "deposits" I'm sure I'll be feeling even better. I encourage anyone reading this to make a personalized list of things that are deposits or withdrawals for you and see how you're doing. I'm planning on encouraging my wife do it. Just putting things in these terms was a pretty big wakeup call. 

The Addict's Reality Distortion Field

In our addiction we do a lot of damage. When we do things we promise we won't do, we turn our back on a lot of people--Jesus and the commandments; our spouse and our covenants; our family and their expectations; ourselves and our sense of integrity. We don't want to turn our back on these people because we love them and want what's best for them. In order to not become the bad guy, we need to justify our disobedience and selfishness, and that's where some mental contortionism comes in. I call it the reality distortion field. (Quick caveat--in case you didn't pick it up from the sketchy name ("isn't a reality distortion field something on Star Trek?") I have no training whatsoever, and I base this post strictly off of my own thinking and things I've heard in support groups.)

The reality distortion field is like a fun house mirror for the way we view the world--every problem that comes our way is bent to take an optimistic, beneficial shape. With this ability I can twist any unfortunate fact that makes me look bad into something that appears to be outside my control or unfair or not as bad as it is. For example, my "addiction to compulsive sexual behavior to deal with my character flaws" was actually only "a small problem with pornography that I'm never going to do again, I promise." Facts about my performance in my parenting, marriage, jobs, etc. have all received a similar whitewashing through the years.

As I've written and rewritten this post, I've come to the conclusion that addicts don't have a monopoly on the reality distortion field. A woman whom everyone thinks is beautiful may consider herself overweight and hideous. A parent who's pressuring their near-tone-deaf child to try out on American Idol may be convinced their child is a musical genius. A person investigating the church may decide it's completely unreasonable in the kinds of behaviors--tithing, standards, weekly meetings, callings, etc.--it requires of them (I experienced this last one a lot on my mission in a Scandinavian country). The common ingredient between all of these--in particular addicts--is pride. Here's how a guy in my support group put it: each of us have a throne inside of us, and either we can sit in it, or we can let God sit in it. And God is a pretty cool guy, because if we want to sit in it, he'll stand aside and say, "No, go ahead. You sit there as long as you want...let me know how that turns out for you." It never turns out well, though we often optimistically tell ourselves it will.

I believe in optimism. "The gospel" is literally "the good news"--if we focus on the gospel, we're focusing on the good news. Faith, including having faith that we can change, is the first principle of the gospel. If we didn't have hope for the future and that things can be better, why would we do anything that we do? However, there's a difference between actual faith linked with a resolve to be and do, versus unrealistic expectations for the future based on overconfidence in our own ability. There's a difference between hope that we can overcome our addiction and become pure through the atonement versus false hope in ourselves coupled with a willful ignorance of how the gospel and repentance works.

False optimism is often the heart of the addict's reality distortion field. I can't tell you how many times I told myself, "this is the last time"...probably every time I acted out. Was it a lie? Not completely--I genuinely thought that the motivation I felt when I committed to be better was going to keep me safe when temptations came along later. Every time I acted out my self disgust was so focused, my resolve so clear, that it looked, in that moment, like finally I had solid ground to base my recovery on. Of course, I was forgetting that I had those same feelings EVERY TIME I had acted out. Why do we forget? Because this is a forgetting disease. Satan's lies or our own twisted brains keep us from realizing that we aren't actually trying anything different to change the outcome, so there's no possible way it will turn out differently. Our pride--sitting on our throne, trying to solve our problems in our way (or asking God to solve our problems in our way)--blinds us to the reality of our situation.

Like the stereotypical used car salesman who only has good things to say about his cars, we develop ways of portraying our situation that minimize our guilt and excuse our behavior. We HAVE to use porn and masturbation to numb our feelings because we're under extra pressure and deserve a break. And if we aren't under extra pressure...it's because we're bored and deserve some excitement. Or it's because we don't get enough love and support at home. And if we DO get enough love and support...it's because we're smothered by too much positivity. Or it's because of our upbringing, or the culture we're in, or ...(ad infinitum).

The reality distortion field is the biggest barrier to recovery for a few reasons:

• Recovery requires hard work. And notice it's called "recovery work." It's not called "recovery thinking" or "recovery talking." When we're in the midst of our own delusions, especially if we have some sobriety, we start to feel like we've got this recovery thing down! Our genuine excitement distorts into a false confidence that we can lighten up. We tell ourselves we're working when we're actually more concerned with seeing what we can get away with as we coast, not with doing whatever it takes--fearless and tireless action--to overcome our addiction.
• It's impossible to recovery without brutal honesty--both with ourselves and others. When we're in a habit of sugarcoating, blame-shifting, whitewashing, qualifying, justifying, backpedaling,  minimizing, and straight-up lying, how could we possibly hope to overcome the problem, let alone even know what it is?
• We can't recover without thorough accountability. The reality distortion field is a defense mechanism, which is inward and isolating: "I don't need help; nothing's wrong and I'm doing fine!" Recovery is outward and open: "I'm out of control, and I can't do this on my own." Recovery necessarily involving others--especially recovering addicts.  They know how to keep us honest since they've told all the same lies.

In this life, we "see through a glass, darkly" (1 Cor 13:12). We don't know the whole context of our actions. Everyone is forced to interpret their perception of reality, in ways that are inevitably inaccurate. However, I'm convinced that with a concerted effort, we can reshape our opinions and attitudes to be less accommodating to our fleshly tendencies and closer to the way things really are.