Contrary to popular thought, a heavy addiction to pornography is not about one’s personal sex life. It’s not about “getting some.” It’s about escaping. Running from stress, issues at work, family problems, anger. It was my husband’s doorway into a world where the sucky parts of reality DIDN’T EXIST. He found fantasies that took him away from what he saw as his failures. He ran from his world falling down around him. He ran from his consequences to poor choices.
He ran. And ran. And ran. Until the need and the pull to view more and to view harder pornography overwhelmed him. It desensitized him. He became numb to what he was viewing. HE COULDN’T GET ENOUGH. It affected only him, after all. This was HIS life, HIS secret, HIS vice. He couldn’t see past the beautiful blooms to the strangling vines that were ensnaring him. Trapping him.
He wanted more. The next level.
And so he had an affair.
And what he thought affected only him broke the hearts of those who loved him most. See, viewing pornography is not a lonesome activity. It’s not a solo ride. The arguments remain: Boys will be boys. It’s natural. It’s a part of stress relief. It’s normal.
I get it. I’VE HEARD IT.
But guess what? I’ve also LIVED it.
