The Long Road Ahead. Starting Our Journey Together.

What is a porn addict to do at 3:00 AM when he can't sleep. I don't know why I am awake, nor do I understand why I smell chocolate cookies baking. I had to get up to see if my 16 year old was up baking. No, I can only smell it right here in my bed. The brain can do weird things in the middle of the night.

In the past when I can't sleep I have turned to viewing pornography. Now I think this is a great time to work on recovery. T and I went to an addiction recovery meeting together last night. She has addictions also. Unfortunately I believe most people have some form of addiction. The church might do well to add an addiction recovery meeting one night a week as a normal part of church attendance for each member. This may seem like an exageration, but the statistics are very frightening. Pornography alone is a huge stumbling block for many men in the church.

The meeting was a positive experience for both of us. Afterwards we were able to open up more and discuss our feelings. One thing that came up was our lack of kissing. I don't mean the usual quick peck, but the passionate one that is part of the intimacy that a husband and wife enjoy. I mentioned to her recently that the longer I go without pornography, the more I desire to kiss her in this manner. I don't know when we stopped this kissing, I just thought it was part of us getting older. Like we didn't need to do it any more. I should state at this point that we do have an active sex life together, it is just less of an act of love than it should be. Last night during our discussion T told me that she would have a hard time opening up to me in this way and that I need to be patient with her. It hurt a little to hear her say this, but I understand. I haven't been honest with her for so long that she has closed herself off to protect herself from being hurt. This kind of sharing we are doing is an important part of our recovery. I am so optimistic that we are making progress. It is going to be a long road. We have a lot of work ahead of us. At least we have started our journey. It will be a difficult one, a joyfull one.

Now where are those dang cookies?

B.

Hesitantly Hopeful

Complacent is an adjective that means; pleased, especially with oneself or one's merits, advantages, without awareness of some potential danger or defect; self-satisfied.

It's interesting that we both decided to blog about relatively the same thing today. This week has been very emotionally taxing for me. In addition to all that is happening in our marriage, it has been a really rough week at work. I've also had some emotionally charged conversations with a couple of different friends and my mom has decided that every time we talk we need to rehash her concerns and feelings on my husband's unemployment. I'm spent, so it's no wonder to me at all that I start to get wary when I start to see "B" becoming complacent.

It happens every time. He starts to rely on himself to change instead of turning the battle over to Heavenly Father. He has a few good weeks, even some good months, and starts to trust in his own ability to stay in recovery without using the tools that helped him get "sober" in the first place. It scares me when I see this happen because I know each day that goes by without him using his tools put him that much further away from where he needs to be. When this happens I start to close myself off again from him, which then pushes him even further away. It's a vicious cycle, and one I am happy that he chose to break today by blogging.

I had a small victory of my own today. I had a rough day at work and I needed to talk to someone. Normally I would call my sister because she just gets me. She will listen through my blubbering to hear what's behind my words. Today, when I needed to talk she wasn't the first person I called. I wanted to talk to my husband and get comfort from him. I don't know when the last time that happened was. I haven't trusted him with my feelings or my heart for a long time. I am so afraid to hope for change, and yet my heart felt otherwise. It was hopeful that if I called he would listen to me cry and just be supportive. He did. He was. I don't know if that has ever happened before, it most assuredly hasn't in a long time if it has. I turned to my husband for comfort and he provided it. That may seem like a no brainer to a lot of people, but it really hasn't been that way between us for a long time. It felt good.

This isn't even talking about the favor he did for me later in the day. I have told him time and again that it is the little things that make the difference. If I can trust him to keep his word and take care of the little things. I will start to be able to trust him to take care of the big things.

I don't want to hope, it's too scary. I have been hurt so many times before when I let a little hope in. I am hopeful though, despite my best efforts not to be.

Thank you hone for being there for me today. Thank you for being a man of action today and for shrugging off your complacency.

Hesitantly Hopeful,

T.

Peeking Out From Behind The Mask

I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who's husband is also a porn addict. She said to me "It seems like you are dealing with this better than I am." My first thought was, no freaking way am I dealing with this better than anyone else. But, even if that is the case, I have learned that I can't compare my reactions to anyone else's. They don't have my trials or my circumstances and I don't have theirs. All I can do is reach out and give what support I have to give. I want to let you see how I feel, how I've reacted and see into my eyes behind the mask I wear every.single.day.

The mask I wear makes me smile and laugh with acquaintances and coworkers. The mask forces me to be polite to others I encounter. The mask makes it look like I'm whole, like part of me isn't broken. Today I'm going to peel back a corner of the mask and peek out for you. I'm not ready to take it all the way off, I'm not ready to be that vulnerable. I'm not ready to go back to the beginning yet. Part of me doesn't remember it all that well and the other part of me is afraid that some of the numbness will wear off if I go back that far. I'll let you see the most recent part of me, the part I am trying to work through right now. 

It's not pretty and I'm not proud. I'm angry. Not like a little bit angry and I'll get over it right away, but boiling, raging, throw things at the wall MAD! The other day I got so angry about something so completely unrelated and was stomping around and slamming things down, it was so bad I scared my son. I scared my own child because I was mad about something completely unrelated to him. I didn't touch him, I didn't threaten him, I was just making so much noise to vent my anger that it scared him. That's not fair, nor is is the way I want my kiddos to see me. I don't want them to remember me as the angry mom that was scary to be around. I'm a work in progress and slowly but surely I am gaining control of that anger by sheer faith and prayer.

Here's another corner I'll peek out of, it's the corner that's gray and dented and it's called hopelessness. I have almost completely given up hope of recovery. I have had faith so many times, I have hoped so many times, I have believed so many times that he was truly trying to change…only to be disappointed and that much more devastated than the last time. It is so much easier for me not to hope. I want to hope. I want to heal. I want to trust again. I want to love my husband wholly and freely again without constantly feeling like the rug is going to be pulled out from under me at any moment, but right now I am too scared. I'm too afraid, of being completely crushed, to hope. 

That's enough of the ugliness that is behind the mask for now. I know the only way I am going to peel off the mask and leave it off is to begin to heal, begin to hope and let go of my fears. I'm not there yet. I hope that I will be someday soon.

T.

P.S. I read B's post today and it made me cry. It touched me. Nothing he has done or said in a really long time has touched me, because I haven't let it. Maybe the hope is finding a pin prick to squeeze through my mask after all.

Hello My Name Is...

Hello, my name is…well I'm not going to tell you what my name is because this is an anonymous blog. You can just call me B. I am a middle aged LDS man. I have been struggling with a sex addiction for many years. I am at a point in my life where I am determined to change. This blog serves two purposes. First, I have a hard time being 100% open with my wife when talking face to face. I struggle with ADD and am a poor communicator. When I write I have time to slow my brain down and organize my thoughts. This way I can share what is going on inside of me with my wife. She will also be posting on this blog. The second purpose of this blog is to share my recovery with others. I would like to be able to inspire hope in others. An important part of recovery is to make restitution to those I have harmed. I can do this with my family, but what about all the women who have been exploited to satisfy my lusts. In these situations I can make restitution indirectly, by helping others to recover, and to fight against the proliferation of pornography.

My story begins many years ago when I was about 10 years old. A friend of mine showed me a pornographic magazine that was hidden in a wooded area near my home. The feeling I had when I saw these images was probably the most powerful feeling I had ever experienced. I knew that it was wrong to look at these images, but I was so curious, and it felt so good to see them. I was instantly addicted, just like an alcoholic that takes his first drink. 

Over the next several years I came into contact with pornography in its various formats. I was very curious as my parents never discussed sex or the dangers of pornography with me. There were several occasions when magazines would be hidden in the same wooded area. My father had several photography books that had pictures of which were supposed to be "art". I would often satisfy my lusts be looking at my mother's womens magazines. They may not have contained what is normally considered pornography, but advertisements for bras and other things would often work for me.  I also would sneak romance novels that my mother or sisters had. I somehow could flip through the book and quickly find the sex parts.

Throughout my teen years I wanted to quit. The shame that goes along with this addiction is as strong as the addiction itself. I was afraid to confess to my bishop or my parents. I was actually afraid that confessing would lead to excommunication. This may sound silly but I had no idea what would happen because it was never discussed in my family. I was afraid my parents would be very upset because I wasn't supposed to know about sex because they hadn't taught me about it. 

I managed through sheer willpower to quit my addiction for 6 months before I left on my mission. I confessed to my bishop, who thought that I was cured. I think it is very common for young men with this addiction to go on a mission and do very well. A missionary is so isolated from the media and life in general that it is easy to be good.  I thought I would never struggle with this again. This may have been true if it hadn't been for the internet.

When I returned from my mission the internet was just starting to become popular. Again, curiosity got the better of me. Suddenly I could access pornography very easily and not even pay for it. I quickly fell into the depths of addiction once again. I was able to "quit" long enough to be worthy of a temple marriage. For the first year of marriage I did great. I loved my wife and I felt like I would never need pornography again. What I didn't know at the time was that this addiction is something that I will battle for the rest of my life. At some point I began to view pornography once again. I hid it from my wife for a lot of years. Finally, when going through a struggle with anxiety and depression, I confessed to her. She was very hurt and angry. I confessed to my bishop, and began going through the process to overcome the addiction. I met with my bishop regularly for a while. But it just wasn't enough.

Since this time I have confessed to bishops several times. I even went through some professional counciling. Nothing I have done has seemed to help for very long. This brings me to this blog. This will be a very important tool for my recovery. I am attending the LDS church's 12 step meetings, for addiction recovery, several times a week. I realize I can't do this alone. I often wonder what I can become once I have this addiction under control. 

I would like to end this post with my testimony. I know the gospel is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he translated the Book of Mormon by the power of God. I know that it is important to attend church weekly even when I don't want to. I need the to feel the Spirit on a regular basis. I also know that I need to get back to the Temple. I haven't held a recommend for a few years. To all who struggle with this addiction, don't give up. Look to the Lord. Ask for his help. Let other appropriate people know of your struggles. You will need their help.

B.