My struggles began at 12 when I first encountered pornography. I was a curious kid seeking escape from feelings of loneliness and sadness that I was barely aware of. It seemed harmless, a personal refuge, but I didn’t realize the magnitude of the chains I was wrapping around myself. By 16, I added alcohol to my list of escape routes, indulging in both secret and social addictions.
In college, miles away from home, I was free to live as I wished. I partied, I laughed, I lived—yet, in my quiet moments, the shadows of my addiction loomed. The secrecy surrounding my actions amplified my feelings of guilt and shame. I felt lost and isolated, even in a room full of friends.
At 22, I started to realize the damage my behavior was causing. I dreamed of a future family and understood my addictions were roadblocks to achieving that dream. While I managed to step away from alcohol and partying, the chains of pornography and masturbation tightened, revealing the formidable nature of these addictions.
I spent the next ten years grappling with these issues, tumbling down a rabbit hole of self-loathing and despair. I sought solace in the very sources of my pain, trapping myself in a vicious cycle. I once thought marriage would be my saving grace, a way to satisfy my urges. I learned the hard way that love and lust aren’t interchangeable. Love is personal, unique, and shared, while lust is impersonal, common, and solitary. I learned that marriage doesn’t cure this.
