Not the Poster Boy of Sobriety

Let me be clear—I love my wife, deeply, and in all the ways I know how.

That makes writing this all the more difficult. I’ve spoken before about my struggles with pornography and sex addiction—mostly online, never physical—but sharing it again still knots my stomach.

That did not make this any easier to write.

You see, when I read the challenge title and prompt, I was a bit unsure how to proceed.

"The Metamorphosis of the Mind—Share a transformative moment from your mental or emotional journey."

You see, for many people, there’s a big life-changing moment they can point to—some clear transformation when everything shifted. That's brilliant. Though I am sceptical a little, I accept people's views and own experiences.

My experience was not exactly the same. There was no big change... no complete transformation. Even now, years of relative cleanness (sobriety, whatever you want to call it) I don't feel like a wholly different person. Maybe I've not been successful? If that's what you're thinking—maybe you're right.

I think there is more to it, though.

To start, let me be clear. I've loved and been fascinated by the female form for as long as I can remember-since my early teens. Kylie Minogue was probably my first proper crush, even before I fully understood desire. Just the clothed body alone, was enough. The shape, the idea, the allure, had hooked me young.

I imagine many have a similar experience.

Why am I telling you all this?

I'm getting to that.

You see, my first dalliances with porn, especially online, weren't full-on or extreme.

I'm of the generation that remembers the tedium of dial-up internet connections, that joyful noise the modem made and waiting ages for a single image to load from a newsgroup (yes, remember those?).

You've likely heard that the porn addiction epidemic that we are experiencing now can be blamed on high-speed internet.

I wouldn't spend hours on end looking at porn in those formative days. I'd get bored easily and my sense of decency and shame was strong as a teen that I'd never have dared pick up one of those "magazines" in a convenience store. Even when I was old enough to justify it.

In the beginning, I was mostly drawn to idea of nudity—of the female form, specifically. I wasn't comfortable with anything beyond that. If there was another man involved in what I was looking at or watching, I was put off. Let me be clear—it wasn't moral outrage—I just didn't want to see that.

Sex scenes in movies were endlessly intriguing. The sounds, the rhythm, the mystery of it all.

Chatrooms became an outlet after that—faster than image downloads and comforting in a sense when I didn't have many close friends. I didn't think of it as addiction then. It was more about connection, or at least the illusion of it.

I even met my wife on a chatroom. So, there is evidence to suggest that they are not 100% bad.

But, everything changed with broadband. Suddenly everything was easier, faster, always available. And my curiosity turned into a compulsion.

My love of sex and the female form grew and intensified and eventually my disgust for another man's genitals being in shot, were replaced with desire for the act, to watch and imagine the act.

I love my wife. When she was just my girlfriend/partner, I loved her. But, the addiction was starting, even back then to get its claws into me. Its lust-dipped, intoxicating claws that disrupted my shame, my conscience and carved out brand-new neural pathways in my mind.

I loved my wife—but I loved porn too. I never fully appreciated how terrible my addiction had got until it was far too late really. Over the course of the first decade of the new millennium, it developed and rooted itself in.

I had tried to play it down. When trouble would arise, I'd argue and give excuses.

After 12 years, at least, when things got so bad my marriage was threatened, it was only then that I considered there might be a problem. I proceeded to keep my head in the sand, though.

After each slip-up, I'd get clean and stay clean, we'd use software to block the computer (eventually I was working online, so I needed to use the computer for that, at the very least). I always believed, or wanted to believe that it was more I was bored, lonely, any old excuse other than that I was ill, had a problem, had a sickness.

I guess it's like that for a lot of people.

Then we went through some of the worst years of our shared life together and it was only then that I started to approach the idea I was addicted and it was a serious problem. It wasn't just dabbling with harmless fun, it wasn't just a case of "it's not proper cheating". I was addicted.

I had gotten into a very serious, or what felt like at the time, a very serious relationship with someone online. My wife and youngest boy were away for a long-stay down at her mother's. I wasn’t nearly as okay as I believed or professed—otherwise, I’d never have been fine with her leaving. The months leading up to that period, I had sunk into my old ways. Started looking at pornography. The jarring pains that I initially experienced were nullified with repeatedly dipping my toes into that world again. I didn't speak up when I should have, didn't let Ruth in.

Our world was shaken to its core more than anything else I had done previously to that. I even came close to leaving—because my head was up my own arse and I was just not dealing with anything well. My poor wife was hurt beyond anything I could ever have done physically and we are still trying to piece things together to this very day. A few years further down the line.

That was the moment things changed. That was the moment I started to understand and believe and admit I had a problem. I even picked up a book I’d long avoided on porn and sex addiction, and enrolled in an online, at-your-own-pace course. (For the record, I have stopped it for sometime right now, because I came to a roadblock - something I need to work on more).

The book, which I thoroughly recommend is called "Understanding and Treating Sex and Pornography Addiction" and is written by Dr. Paula Hall, who as it happens, is behind the online recovery programme called Pivot Recovery.

So, here comes the big headline-making transformation. "I went from Chronic Masturbator to the Clean-Living Poster-Boy of Sobriety"

Not quite.

As I said at the outset, I may have had revelations, big heart-sinking, gut-wrenching and life-altering revelations, but the actual transformation part. Nothing quite as dramatic or intensive.

Do I feel different? As a cleaner person? As a person fighting their addiction every day, sometimes with every ounce of my being. Sometimes just wanting to click on the computer and sink away into the faux-euphoria of watching badly-paid or well-paid actors and actresses selling a fantasied and brutalised version of one of the best things people in a loving relationship can do together. Yes, I feel different. I understand the fight I need to fight. I know my foe, my weakness, but it's not a big glorious conversion.

Sobriety is a bitter-pill at first but one that is easier to swallow as time goes on. I feel much freer in my mind, because there is not a catalogue of lies I need to manage. I feel better when I look at my wife, because I know I am doing my level best to not hurt her again.

I also feel the pain in her eyes, when we exchange glances at times and I know the hurt is there, hanging in the air between us. I accept that it's never going to go away, not for a while, and that it's not as simple as saying sorry for what I've done and stopping what I was doing. It's a start, though.

That is oversold and misrepresented so often I think.

For the people who have experienced that—I applaud you. Again, I am not going to pick holes in other people's journeys and transformations. That's not my job.

I don't have enough letters after my name for that.

In my case, though, the transformation is still occurring. There is no such thing as being cured of addiction.

The changes are there. I am different person. But, the transformation has taken lots of individual hard-fought battles and some are still raging.

Addiction recovery is lifelong. It gets easier and you feel better, but it's very much like being in remission from cancer.

My wife and I are not where we were—and we're not where we want to be either. But, I'm still breathing, walking, still choosing to fight and my wife is supporting me. We may never get back to where we were or where we should be—but I'm not giving up without a fight.

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Thanks for reading!