A complete answer to that question requires me to re-illustrate my addiction experience in a slightly different way.
My porn addiction, as I described in more detail in Part I, was driven by shame and denial. Every human being experiences denial to some extent, but my denial was so powerful and controlling because it was driven by intense feelings of worthlessness and self-loathing (shame). As hard as I tried to overcome the sexually problematic or dysfunctional behavior that resulted from my shame, I was truly powerless against it.
I was so powerless and unaware, yet so determined to stop my morally incongruent behavior, that I eventually resorted to cutting myself with a blade to stem the tide of addiction. And the surprising thing was that it sort of worked for a while, or at least that's what I was telling myself. This equally (if not more) unhealthy habit was functioning, only in the beginning, as a way to keep myself from relapsing into porn addiction (compulsive cutting created a chemical reaction in my brain that superseded the chemical reaction created by a porn relapse). But what really happened was that it reinforced my shame and denial. What it really did was cause me to slowly spiral down into an even more subtle version of sex addiction. That version of addiction, with roots in self-loathing like before, led me into a depression that eventually brought me close to suicide.
When everything came to a head, and I sat there alone with a blade in my hand realizing I was contemplating suicide, I did recognize that my behavior was not congruent with my value system, my moral code. But the addict part of my brain (my limbic system) was not allowing my higher-thinking, and more rational, self to acknowledge the reality: that this was more complex than simply choosing between right or wrong. I still did not recognize that I was addicted to pornography and that I was powerless against it. This experience gave me a bit of a nudge toward asking for help, but my close call with suicide STILL wasn't enough for me to emerge from the powerful denial of addiction and depression.
OK, pause for a minute.
Are you, the reader, frustrated yet?
Are you asking how in the world I could NOT see this stuff for what it really was even after a brush with what could have been certain death, inflicted by myself?
Does it make you question my intelligence or my sanity?
Is there the teensiest possibility that you, yourself, are harboring some level of denial about your behaviors and thoughts?
Does getting inside your own head and digging around for problems and dysfunction, in a state like I just illustrated for you, sound like something you are capable of?
I'm not asking these questions to try and make you feel any guilt nor to incriminate anyone. I'm trying to bring you to a place where you can empathize with me and with the millions of other addicts around you, most of whom are still in denial. That means you can't even know whether or not they are addicts. They themselves don't even know that yet. This brings me to the most important part of my answer: denial.
Denial is the key to understanding this madness. Denial is the antithesis of authenticity. If denial were a person, it would be a super spy; a highly trained operative who can be anyone and do anything to escape discovery, ten steps ahead at every turn and always at the ready to fight tooth and nail to keep his or her identity secret. It's kind of like a sociopathic version of Jason Bourne, whose motives are to cast darkness and doubt instead of discovering truth and light.
Is it any wonder then that, for so many addicts, it takes a tragedy or horrific event to even take a tiny step towards recognizing that they are powerless against their addiction? How many times do we have to watch news media in shock and awe when they cover the discovery of sexually risky or illegal or abusive behavior from the guy, or neighbor, or ecclesiastical leader, or coworker, or senator who was the "most caring citizen" or "best father" or "most righteous Bishop" in the area before we start believing the power of denial? I'm no longer shocked by this media. I'm no longer shocked when I hear that a friend or acquaintance has been struggling with addiction and has never told a single soul other than me. It's denial, folks, and unfortunately we live in a society and culture that not only feeds denial, it embraces it wholeheartedly. We live in a society that actually values secrecy.
And it's not just the group of people that we, my fellow believers in Christ, refer to as "the world" that values secrecy. Yeah, yeah, I think that we Christians can sometimes be self-righteous, separating ourselves from the "world" in order to feel like we are better than others rather than out of love for our Heavenly Parents, but that's another (and maybe even related) topic for another time. WE do the secrecy-valuing thing, too! We reward secrecy so often and so naturally we don't even realize it's happening! Have you ever been told not to share your sins in church or that you just don't "need" to share that part of yourself? Have you ever been pulled aside and "gently corrected" or even chastised for sharing too much of your sinful self or for bringing up "inappropriate" personal things to open up for discussion to the class or quorum or group (even if they are directly related to the gospel topic at hand)? Have you ever shared a very raw and intimate part of yourself in church only to be rejected, disbelieved, or hushed by those around you? This stuff happens, people. It has happened to me. Heck, I have been the one doing it sometimes! It has happened to people I love. If we don't at least acknowledge this then we ourselves are, of course, in denial.
And I'm not saying that we should all stand up in church and share every grisly detail of our sins and mistakes. I haven't felt that such a behavior is necessary or even helpful in any way during my own healing and recovery. I'm saying that we simply do not share our burdens with each other. We deny or deflect or discourage openness to personal struggle and even to personal questioning. And from my point of view and the point of view of every single truly recovering addict I have ever had the pleasure of talking with, this behavior is common enough that it is creating pain and isolation within our congregations and our culture as a whole. This behavior is a large part of what fed my drive towards suicide. I was hiding my addiction and depression because I was afraid to open my wounds up to people around me; even to trusted, loving, and gentle church leaders, and even to my incredibly loving and supportive family and friends. I didn't trust that anyone could love me if they truly knew my whole self.
I found out, miraculously (no joke), that there is a safer and far more powerful way to recognize and recover from addiction than the false recovery that my self-mutilation was providing. It's so very simple, but so difficult to find in our shame- and denial- and secrecy-ridden society.
Are you ready for this groundbreaking, life-changing answer to the question I posed a thousand words ago?
When I met someone who was lovingly open with me about his own pornography addiction and recovery, I immediately began to recognize my own behaviors as addictive. It’s honestly that simple. In that moment I was able to commence the long process of drawing out the denial from my life. It was like drawing poison out of a wound so that it properly started to heal. It is so powerful to have a close friend who trusts me to know all his secrets and who shares his burdens with me. It empowers me to then trust him with my own secrets and share my burdens as well. Isn't that just so simple and beautiful?
That is what addicts need. They need a friend who is not only a completely safe companion, but who trusts them enough to actively participate in sharing each other's burdens. Addiction groups can help start this un-denial-ing process. It's great, even necessary at times, to be able to go into a safe environment with other addicts and share myself openly. The most powerful tool for my recognition of addiction and my recovery, however, was to discover that someone who was my friend and associate, who I perceived as a "normal" and "good" member of my church also had dealt with sexual struggles similar to mine. I'm being honest. When I was in denial myself, I perceived other people who are open about their socially taboo struggles, so often related to sexuality, as abnormal and weird. I perceived the people in the addiction recovery groups as weird exceptions to normal society. I still have that immediate response or tendency sometimes and I'll bet I'm not the only one. With that problematic and egotistical perception deeply rooted in place, it was powerful and touching to me that my friend was so open about his struggles with addiction. It brought us closer as friends and, as I shared more and more of my secrets with him, I climbed further and further upward out of my denial. My emergence from denial required complete and bilateral trust with a peer, an equal. And guess what? That process is still happening because denial ALWAYS finds a way to creep back in. Always.
Fortunately, the other "always" that is just as much a reality is that there is ALWAYS someone around me who I can trust to love me completely, wholly. Even if my primary attachments, my loving companions, are not immediately available for me, there is an abundance of people with whom I can safely and intimately connect. They are everywhere and all I have to do is reach out for help. As a human family we are all capable of so much love and strength and burden-sharing. We need to trust each other more. We need to try.
