Hei all, just wanted to share my story so far and get a sense of where I can go from here. I'm addicted to pornography and erotic literature (and more broadly, just surfing the internet). I define it as addiction for myself because it's a habit that interferes with my daily activities and chores, and that threatens my relationships. And I've been fighting this addiction for easily ten to twelve years. I've done things to satiate my addiction that make me profoundly ashamed, but I'm now finally facing up to it and trying to turn it around. This post is lengthy, for which I apologize.

It's been a winding journey. I feel some background is appropriate because I think it provides some insight into how I've ended up this way, how some factors compounded my problems. I grew up in what many would call a religious household. Church every Sunday, prayer daily, frequent discussion of religious and spiritual topics. Sex was sacred ground reserved for those who'd committed to the holy ritual of marriage. Anything sexual outside of that was verboten (though sex within the confines of marriage was to be encouraged). Discussion of anything sexual, largely discouraged (though sex was never described as disgusting or bad, just not talked about).


I hit puberty, and suddenly I now have this sex drive that I don't feel like I can discuss with anyone. But, I was at the time a voracious reader, and low and behold, what did my mom have stashed in the crawlspace? Smutty romance books. Those were my nightly inspiration for some time. Then I found more books, and slowly amassed a small collection of faves. Conflicting with this was my shame born of the religion I'd been raised with. I went through a cycle of burning and re-amassing collections until I got tired of it and just kept them because I knew I'd just get more, so why bother? I started seeking out other inspirations (because I can only skip through so many romances before they all blur together, lol... frazzled woman serendipitously meets rich handsome man, they're stuck together through some mad-cap circumstance of her life, they end up boning a couple times, then they get married and have some kids, rinse, repeat... harlequin's finest).


I was best friends with the kid down the road, thick as mud we were growing up. His family had tv, whereas mine didn't. They also didn't share my family's religious mores. I often ended up spending the night at his place, hanging out watching movies or tv shows till we passed out. One night, he fell asleep while I didn't, and I started cruising the channels. This is when I discovered the sex channel (If I remember correctly, it was straightup named SEX, but my memory is suspect). Oh, the joy of discovering soft-core porn! Already, though, I'd learned I should keep my budding sexuality hidden, so I turned down the volume before clicking in to the channel. I've still got a soft spot for Emmanuel to this day (terrible as it was). Oh, and does anyone else remember the... "blue slipper" or "blue ribbon" specials or some such? I can't remember the exact name.


Anyway, this too became a habit, a habit that escalated. My friend and I discovered his dad's porn stash. I started looking for any excuse to spend the night at my friend's place. And I tried to keep the extent of my activities as hidden as possible from him, because even I knew my behavior was damned weird. I had let myself get so dependent on this fleeting source of fodder, that I had actually made a mental note of when my friend and his family would be gone to visit their extended family for a visit... and I would have a rare opportunity to their home tv unfettered. So when that time came, I snuck out of my home, walked down the road to theirs, and let myself in. For whatever reason, I kept the volume down, perhaps out of habit, and started watching. About 15 minutes later, I heard noise upstairs. I panicked, clicked the tv and channel box off, and as quietly as possible bolted out the door through the gargage and then pressed myelf against the garage wall, waiting and listening. I heard voices discussing, saw lights clicking on, and then off, heard them retreat back upstairs after they finished looking for the disturbance. Around this time, my guilt set in, the deepest shame I'd ever felt. A rock in my throat, and ice in my veins, I went back and knocked on the door to face my friend's parents.

The shock, disappointment, sadness in their faces is still fresh in my mind. They were incredibly understanding, though also still angry with me for the trust I had violated. They called my parents and sent me home for one of the hardest and most searing soul grilling discussions I'd ever had with my parents up to that point. My parents made me promise to never look at pornography again, and that I would never ever violate our neighbors trust like that again.

I failed on both counts.


My relationship with my best friend and his family was irrevocably damaged after that night. However, slowly I was allowed back into their lives. I don't think my friend knew at the time what had happened (he actually had been gone), but one can still sense this kind of disturbance. I was eventually allowed to stay over again. And for a long time I was "clean", not so much as even clicking on their tv. But, eventually, I let temptation get the best of me, and I found myself turning on the tv late one night and turning down the volume to scroll to that channel... to find it was locked. "Oh. Ok, well that's that." Yeah, they didn't trust me that much, and all too rightly. Roughly another year later, and they needed a house sitter. I got the job. And what did I do? I went looking for that porn stash. It was gone, and I looked in places I knew damn well I should never have looked. I don't know if they knew I had went looking, but it doesn't matter whether I was caught or not. Just the fact that I succumbed yet again and stuck my nose in the private spaces of people who trusted me remains one of my greatest shames in the dark recesses of my memory.

These are not the only similar experiences in my story, but I feel it does an adequate job of depicting the lengths I went to in order to satiate my growing NEED for all materials sexual. For a long time, I blamed the environment I grew up in, and I still think it played a part, but it can't shoulder the burden of my own failures. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did it anyway because "I need to get off!" I came to think I was hypersexual, and perhaps I am, but I've never been officially diagnosed as such. I do know I've a more aggressive sex drive than most, just through my own observations. Not an excuse, but again, I feel it plays a factor.

My early adulthood was a repeating cycle of gathering sexual materials, be it books or dvds or magazines, usually by purchasing them (even when I shouldn't have because of tight funds), then experiencing self loathing, getting rid of most or all... and then starting over again. I would stay up way later than I should have on work nights, trying to satiate my need, or wrestling with myself mentally to not go get more materials. Show up to work extremely tired and making mistakes or just being slow. I tried to shift it into video games, which had similar problems but at least I didn't have the same associated guilt, didn't hate myself as badly. I was frequently called in to see management over either being late, or being too tired to perform at my usual level (which was normally a high bar for me, despite all). This all cycled into the depression that was increasingly manifesting itself.


My addiction, coupled with my depression, had so frequently made my life such self-loathing hell, Eventually, I came to grips with my sexuality, accepted it while shedding my religion. I went through a period of exploration, joining sex-oriented communities and even being part of a polyamorous group for a while. It felt good to no longer hate my sexual side, to let it out and recognize it as a good part of me. To have it accepted by others was even better. I was now holding my job down, and could now afford internet, which I explored porn on freely. But all of this was just a mask. I was still addicted, but now I was living a life where I was free to orient myself around my addiction. This worked for a time... but of course, it was doomed to crack, and fail.

During this time, I met a girl, and though I didn't recognize it then, it was love at first sight. We started seeing each other, and it quickly became serious. It wasn't long before we moved in together... and that's when the cracks started to show. After the intial shower of sparks from our love igniting had faded and died, and it was time for the slow burning embers to take hold, my dependence on porn very quickly began to interfere. I wanted to grow my life with this woman who I now, miraculously it seemed, had a serious relationship with, but I... was stunted. Short of time. Unable to share of myself fully with her. I was failing to provide that which she needed to feel loved and cared for.

Again, I was spending too much time on porn, on satiating myself. Hours spent, gazing at a screen full of lewd material. Meanwhile, she was right behind me, waiting for me to turn my attentions to her, the woman I professed to love. I was messaging other women in the community I had been using to orient myself before, instead of addressing our own mounting problems. I was burying my head instead of facing our growing needs, and even now failing to address our already existing ones. My crutch was showing it's cracks.

How she stayed with me through that, I don't know. I've railed against her, cursed her, mentally hurt her in so many ways. Yet she's still here. One of the strongest women I've ever met. She helped me see how I was failing her, and failing myself, and though I stumbled frequently, she helped me pull myself out. I shut down my sex-only accounts on the web, and severely curtailed my porn viewing. I started my tumblr up again once, but after she found out... god, that still eats me inside. My betrayal. I've stayed true on that front since... but I'm still failing elsewhere.

And here's where I'm at now: I'm still struggling hard with my porn addiction. I've taken to sneaking it behind my girl's back, lying about it. And about ten months back, she caught me in an emotional affair with a mutual acquaintance. I almost lost her then, entirely. I initially blamed it on her "not understanding" and "needing someone I could talk to", but that's such ********. That is the most hurt I've ever seen her, and I never want to put her through that again, but I'm seeing the signs, the cycle spinning up again. She's caught me in my lies about the porn, visual and literary, and I've been failing in my personal responsibilities at home, which so far hasn't impacted my work, but it will. I feel like all my progress (of which I have had some, I have to keep reminding myself) will be for naught if I don't find a way to break this cycle. But I feel caught between a rock and a hard place, like it's inevitable. I've been through this cycle so many times in so many ways, and this past year, the suicidal thoughts have started to come back. Not severely, they're fleeting, but they're there when I hadn't had them for a long time. I can't go back to where I was, that hell, and I can't put my loved ones through more of this. I've tried telling her to get herself out now, multiple times, but she refuses.

I've got one way out, and that's addressing this life long struggle of mine in a much more effective manner. I just have not a clue what that is. So here I am. Searching.

Sorry for this long *** life-story post, but I couldn't figure out a better way to put it, and believe me, I tried my best to cut it down. I skimmed a lot of detail, but this stuff at the very least I needed to put down in words.