This is Me, Responding to Responses to NFL Kneeling

For those have served in and been served by our US military, I can understand and empathize with—although not completely, nor in the same way, because I have never actually served in the military—how hurtful it might be to witness a group of highly influential individuals take a knee during the national anthem and raising of the flag. I have been a recipient of the safety and protection that our military gives us as well and I feel truly grateful for this protection and for the flag and anthem that can symbolize what this sacrifice (the sacrifice of those who died for our liberty and protection) means. 

My parents taught me this respect since I was a boy, and I’m grateful for that. It’s that respect that drives me to go out of my way to verbally thank any service man or woman that I run into during my business travels in airports and airplanes. It’s that respect that has driven me to give up my business class seating to a service woman traveling home from a tour. I feel it and I’m grateful that there are individuals who feel that respect and honor so deeply.

So when I see a photograph of someone perform the Sieg Heil salute—a symbol of oppression, hatred, supremacy, and genocide—while holding our beloved United States flag at a white supremacy rally, I feel deeply disturbed.

(Photo credit: Darren Hauck, Reuters)

When I see groups of our nation’s citizens use the color and symbology of our flag in combination with the Nazi swastika, I am disgusted. 

(Photo credit: AP Photo/John Flavell)

These displays of pride in white privilege and power in our nation, using our nations beloved symbols of liberty and freedom, are truly sad and even scary to me. 

And I wonder how much time and effort the general white american populace has spent combating this level of oppression within our nation. How many white americans have written letters to these organizations, pleading with them to refrain from disrespecting these symbols that our beloved United States stand for? How many of us have blown these acts of treachery up all over the media (like so many are doing with the NFL kneeling), citing how evil and awful it is? How many of us have even given these specifics acts any considerable and serious thought or (even better) strategic oppositional action? I don’t know the answer to these questions. I do know that I personally haven’t spent enough time, if any time at all, doing so. I am, therefore, part of the problem. I am ready to admit that and to start doing something about it. 

In comparison with these displays of everything that is offensive to me about how some individuals choose to use the freedom that our service men and women sacrifice their lives to protect—and that opposes the liberty and justice for all that our nation stands for—the display of silent protest below is acceptable and even appropriate to me, personally. 

(Photo credit: Michael Reeves, Getty Images)

There is a very clear and a very big difference to me between these two responses to, or displays of, our nation's flag and/or anthem. 

These football players have a great deal of influence, more so I believe (and thankfully so) than the white supremacists in the first two photos. The subgroup and subculture of individuals that they represent all too often live a completely different reality than I do. They are still hated, oppressed, and at the very least treated differently (in a negative way) in many parts of our society and nation. I’ve had the opportunity to connect and re-connect with a few black american friends over the past few years. I’ve asked some very hard questions and I’ve allowed myself to listen to, empathize with, and try to understand their reality. And my personal experience has taught me that their reality—their lived experience—can truly be frighteningly oppressive, even so many decades after the Civil Rights Act was passed. Even so many years after slavery was abolished. Racism and micro-aggression is, far too frequently, their reality. So when a group of highly influential people such as NFL players (a group of people that are the most likely to have a very large influence on white americans, who love the sport they play) decide to protest violence and racism in our United States by simply taking a knee or silently decline to participate in that part of the football game program, I’m grateful for their unity and that they are using their freedom to peacefully oppose violence and hatred. Their active protests oppose the kind of hatred and violently abusive behavior that white supremacists in our nation incite. 

So many of my people, my fellow white americans, feel strongly that they need to tell these influential black and white americans that the kind of protesting that they are doing is wrong, and even dangerous. So many of us want to respond to their protests with our feelings of disgust at their disrespect of the flag and our nation’s anthem. We say things like “I get that you have a legitimate reason to feel oppressed and hurt and I even accept that you experience the cold (and often bloody) sting of racism and hatred, but can you please just respect our nation’s symbols of freedom and make your feelings and your complaints known some other way? Just do it like [other group of oppressed people] did it! They did it correctly!” We say, “I would listen to you if you would just calm down and stop hating our country so much.” Or maybe we take it even more personally, saying, “Are you trying to say that white people are then enemy? Aren’t you just hating us in return? That’s white oppression!” 

This happens. I hear it and I see it. 

Frequently. 

It happens so frequently that it causes me a great deal of pain as I reflect on my own experience with abuse. I was violently raped in a bathroom when I was just five years old. Fortunately for me, however, I haven’t had an entire population of people trying to tell me how to respond to the pain of that abuse. I haven’t had people around me, let alone a significant portion of the US population, tell me that they can’t or even won’t listen to my cries of pain and agony because of the way that I was doing it, even if they disagreed with my response. 

Can you imagine telling a five year old rape victim, “I would listen to you if you would just calm down or respond differently” or "Why are you expressing so much anger at the man that raped you? Aren't you just hating him in return? That's oppression!"? 

I can’t. I can't even imagine it. I don't even want to go there. That kind of response would have killed me. Literally.

No one should be allowed to stand over the oppressed or abused and tell them how they get to respond to oppression. No one.

A gallup poll was conducted among a very large sample of white americans in the early 1960s (retrieved from http://www.crmvet.org/docs/60s_crm_public-opinion.pdf). 85% of them were opposed to any of the peaceful demonstrations that one, Martin Luther King, Jr., had organized and carried out in our nation’s capitol, as our nation’s capitol has always been the selfsame symbol of freedom emblemized by the flag and anthem. Statistically, 85% of white america, believed that the peaceful demonstrations that Dr. King had carried out had “hurt more in the advancement of Negro rights.” How grateful our black american brothers and sisters are that the 85% were wrong, as not long after, in 1964, the Civil Rights Act was passed. And how sad it is to me that, as human beings, we have such a hard time owning our own racism and prejudice and empathizing with others. I am still now to some degree, and have certainly been in the past, one of those people. I have a hard time sometimes owning up to my prejudices and biases. I’m sure I’ve got some biases that are even apparent as I write this post, although admittedly I am truly trying to see through it and be understanding and empathetic.

(Photo credit: United States Information Agency)

Dr. King was thrown in jail after a peace protest in Birmingham, Alabama. While in jail he wrote a letter (retrieved from http://kingencyclopedia.stanford.edu/kingweb/popular_requests/frequentdocs/birmingham.pdf) to his “fellow clergymen” in the Birmingham area as a plea to reason with him. In one paragraph of this letter he stated:

"I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to 'order' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: 'I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action'; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a 'more convenient season.’” 

This is a small excerpt in what i consider to be one of the most sincere and honest pleas for justice I have ever read. I, too, am disappointed with the white moderate; with my own inaction and ignorance.

He ended his letter with:

"If I have said anything in this letter that overstates the truth and indicates an unreasonable impatience, I beg you to forgive me. If I have said anything that understates the truth and indicates my having a patience that allows me to settle for anything less than brotherhood, I beg God to forgive me.

I hope this letter finds you strong in the faith. I also hope that circumstances will soon make it possible for me to meet each of you, not as an integrationist or a civil-rights leader but as a fellow clergyman and a Christian brother. Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.

Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood, 

Martin Luther King, Jr."

The hard reality is that many individuals and families in this nation are still awaiting, often with a patience that defies reason, the “not too distant tomorrow” when the “radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.” I believe that some in our nation would say that they have actually seen this brotherhood shine as they witnessed some entire NFL teams kneel together in love in order to stand for peace and justice for all.

Bernice King, daughter of Martin Luther King, Jr. (who was assassinated when she was only 5 years old), stated that “people didn’t approve of the way my father protested injustice either; said he was causing trouble, called him an ‘outside agitator.’” She said, “I mourn with those for whom the flag is a reminder of a loved one’s death; & I mourn with those for whom it is a reminder of racial injustice.” (retrieved from https://twitter.com/BerniceKing)

My feelings have reflected hers during these events and responses from so many individuals. I have read and listened to responses from those scorned by a racism and injustice that they feel they have no way to protest against, who are grateful for these NFL players who use their influence to do so for them. I have read and listened to responses from many of our service men and women and their families at this protest, who feel deeply saddened and pained by the disrespect that they perceive these players have for our nation and its symbols of freedom. I do mourn with those that have lost and been lost to uphold our nation's freedoms. I also mourn with those who look at the flag and hear our national anthem and feel the sharp sting of trauma and pain related to racism and its ugliness. 

I am willing to own my biases, prejudice, bigotry, and racism. 

I am ready to do all I can (as imperfect as I am) to listen and respond in love and support without judgment and condescension.

This is Me Following Up, Part II

As I open up to others about my recovery from an addiction to pornography I am often asked, "What, if anything, might have helped you to recognize your addiction sooner and to seek help?"

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.

This is Me Finally Following Up, Part I

I guess when I publicly share my ugliest secrets on a blog, I require a few months before follow up. 

Or maybe I'm still just emotionally overwhelmed with gratitude for the immense and, to be honest, unexpected positive response that I received from many people. It is a real blessing to be surrounded by such wonderful people. Thank you all for your loving kindness and understanding!

Several of you who read my last post (in which I tell my story of pornography addiction) had asked that I respond to some truly thoughtful and fantastic questions, so I do apologize for shelving my response for so long. 

Writing is therapeutic for me, especially when I am depressed or experiencing some shame (self-loathing or worthlessness, not guilt). So I'm going to be vulnerable right now—shocker, right?—and say that I am, at the moment, experiencing some significant inner turmoil related to depression and shame. My mind can be really good at tormenting me sometimes even if I'm continually practicing a healthy response to it all. I'm an addict, folks. It's part of my life. That's perfect though, because it will help me write this post!

As I illustrated in my previous post, I grew up in a culture whose fear-based negativity towards sexuality plays a primary part in the foundation for a life of shame, self-loathing, and denial. This compounded the shame that I had already developed around my own sexuality because of trauma. Often I am asked:  How could conversations about sexuality and shame have gone differently for you? What advice do you have for ecclesiastical leaders and parents?

To answer this question, we must first be real about what pornography addiction is. It is a mental illness. It is a disease. For example, my mind is literally trying to work against me right now to cause me to feel shame and self-loathing about opening myself up to you all in such a public way. Annoying, right?! At the same time, though, part of me does recognize that these shame-based feelings are actually symptoms of an illness. Recognizing this mental breakdown and shame-dance for the illness that it is has helped me to begin a real recovery. Viewing my compulsive, morally-incongruent, pornography-viewing sexual behavior as part of a mental illness was a necessary first step for me to begin the recovery process. 

Part of the social dialogue that needs to change is that we need to stop talking about pornography addiction as something that results from sin. The addiction itself actually has very little to do with sin and almost everything to do with the shame, brain chemistry, and faulty core beliefs that lead to rationalization and denial. Sinful behavior is what often results from the compulsive behavior and that's as far as the connection between the sin and the disease goes. Jesus Christ's infinite atoning sacrifice, in my experience, applies to both the illness of addiction and the sexual sin in different—but equally beautiful—ways. Relying upon God, a higher power, to aid in my recovery process has been so much more meaningful to me as I understand more clearly the difference between the illness and the sin.  

Another part of our social dialogue that needs to change is our fear-based emphasis on sexuality as sin. Fear is the archenemy of true recovery and mental health. We do place a great deal of emphasis on sexual morality in our religious culture. However, instead of a balanced approach that emphasizes both the boundaries and beauties inherent to healthy human sexuality, we generally—with a few noteworthy exceptions from past discourses and also from some very recent instructional media resources—teach avoidance and fear of it. In my experience, this fear-based focus on sexuality is just as bad, if not worse, than that of popular media's morally relativistic approach. 

The reason why our religious society's fear-based approach might be worse than popular media's approach? S-H-A-M-E. 

Growing up, I rarely ever heard anyone talk about the beauty of sexual intimacy and the realities of sexual development and exploration in adolescents without in some way attempting to instill a fear of sexual immorality in my heart and soul. I felt like the adults in my life—on occasion even my own parents, who generally taught out of pure love and with openness about sexuality—were teaching me this fear of sexuality because they themselves were afraid that I would make mistakes. I felt like they didn't trust me to be able to make moral decisions about my sexuality without fearing it. This consistent placement of fear into sexuality compounded with the sexual trauma I had experienced as a child and then later on with the shame of pornography addiction. To be completely honest, I still struggle quite a bit to convince myself that my own sexuality and desire for sexual intimacy with my companion is not disgusting, wrong, or even abhorrent. 

What if every ecclesiastical leader or parent—when approached by a confused and guilt-ridden youth who, in a moment of raw vulnerability, confessed that they were having some immoral thoughts and were masturbating  because they saw a pornographic image on their friend's smart phone and couldn't stop thinking about it—said the following. "I'm sorry you've been some experiencing some confusing struggles. I've been there. I've seen pornographic images, too, and I know what it's like to struggle with inappropriate thoughts. And nearly everyone, including me, has experimented with masturbation at some point in their lives. It's a part of growing up and being human. There are boundaries that God has given us for sexuality, though. Let's talk about that. What do you understand about..." Coupled with a loving discussion of our understanding of the boundaries God has set for us regarding our sexuality, this response would reinforce spiritual self-reliance and discovery, self-validation, and a realization of self-worth all at the same time! 

They are few and far between, but believe it or not, I intimately know a couple of individuals who have experienced this kind of response from a leader or a parent and guess what!? THEY AREN'T ADDICTS! These people don't talk about sexuality in fear or shame. 

I have been asked how my experience with recovery from addiction and shame has changed how I communicate with my children about pornography and sexuality. The hypothetical response that I just outlined is my answer to that question. I do my best to be appropriately open and vulnerable about my own experiences with sexuality. I acknowledge the moral boundaries that a loving God has placed for me and as I teach my children about these boundaries, I try to not to be shaming nor to teach through fear.

I think I understand why parents and youth leaders experience fear when we teach sexual morality. We are afraid that if we give our children the slightest bit of freedom to experience normal human sexual development and exploration—teaching them correct principles without striking fear into their hearts—they will make those "big" mistakes we are all so afraid of making ourselves. What is terribly ironic about all this is that the fearful way that we teach our youth may likely become part of the force in their lives that drives them into the very errors that we are so desperate for them not to make. Why can't we trust our youth and trust the God who put them here? Why can't we be confident that as we teach our precious children correct principles by connecting with them in love and understanding, they will grow in strength, knowledge, and virtue? Our children will make some mistakes. They won't be perfect, but they will be able to recover from their mistakes in such a healthier, better way without the barriers of shame and fear. 

We can have strict moral standards and still treat human sexuality as something to learn and to develop, not something to fear. We can have conversations about the consequences of sexual immorality without attempting to hammer the wedge of fear into each other's hearts. 

My experiences over the last few years have led me to believe that if I want to be a positive influence on my children I need be vulnerable with them. My children and I need to develop a real connection and that requires patience, vulnerability, understanding, and courage. 

The New Testament apostle John the Beloved received the revelation that "...perfect love casteth out fear..." (1 John 4:18). I'm trying not to be afraid when I teach my children and when I share an open dialogue with those around me. I want profound, healthy connectivity with my family, my friends, and my God. I want that perfect love, free from fear. This is the power that forces the shame and addiction out of my life. This is how I heal. 

This is Me being Authentic

I am writing this because I feel the need to be more authentic.
I have some things that I need to share with those that know me because I want you to know me better.

When I was nearly five years old something happened to me that was traumatic. It shattered my innocent five-year-old world. I was sexually assaulted by a stranger in a public bathroom. After a very ugly and life-threatening experience, when my abuser exited the bathroom, I was left alone. I was scared for my life and the life of my family, and I was utterly confused about what just happened to me. Unable to process those feelings fully, I left the bathroom believing that something must be wrong with me. I came to the conclusion that I must be disgusting. I felt gross; worth being denigrated and used. I felt like a monster.

I am telling this story because this experience--and my reaction to it--is at the core of many of the struggles that I have had throughout my life with my self-worth. I am finally now at a point where I can share this experience and how it has affected me throughout my life.

My experience with abuse has impacted me in many ways.

--I experience feelings of deep self-loathing
--I sometimes have trouble forming healthy attachments to people I love
--I have had trouble trusting that anyone could possibly love me if they really knew everything about me

This experience led to something very challenging in my life. It is something that is challenging to many in my religious community. It is something that has brought me shame throughout most of my life.

I was exposed to pornography as a teenager, and quickly formed an addiction. The circumstances created by the abuse were a perfect set up. The moment I saw an erotic image and felt a very normal physiological response to it, my brain freaked out. Truly, it was as if a secret switch inside me had suddenly been flipped on. I immediately launched into shame and felt the same exact feelings of self-loathing, disgust, and worthlessness that I had felt on that horrific day when I was five years old. I felt dirty. I felt like a monster again. The shame was so overpowering that I couldn't respond in a normal, healthy way. A normal response upon encountering an image like that would be to perhaps tell an adult or to simply move on with my day having experienced a new and unexpected event. What happened instead was that my mind told me that I was evil.

I am part of a community that does not celebrate vulnerability about sexual things. It seems to me that we hide our authentic selves out of shame or fear. Maybe we just hope that as we become more perfect, those ugly things we are ashamed of will just go away and we won't have to share them with anyone at all. Instead of sharing our burdens with one another, lifting each other up in time of need, we keep our ugliest and heaviest burdens hidden. I believe that this is exactly what author of evil, the devil, wants.

Unfortunately, this cultural norm only increased my own shame and isolation. How could I tell anyone about such a "disgusting" thing when I felt so isolated? It took all the courage I could muster to talk to my Dad about only the tip of my addiction iceberg. When I spoke to him about it, he was very loving and encouraging. He told me that sexual feelings are a part of growing up and explained to me the reason why it is so important to keep ourselves chaste and pure. His concluding remarks, though, were what really stuck with me. He said that there are many, many people who overcome inappropriate sexual desires. He told me that as I avoid putting myself in situations where I could view pornography, and have faith, and repent, I would be able to control these urges. This advice, while very common in our culture, ended in disaster for me and does so for many others.

I went to ecclesiastical leaders as well to engage in the repentance process. They lovingly told me variations of the same message I had been given: pray, repent, have faith, choose to change, and change can and will happen. Because I'm not a quitter, I applied this "formula for success" over and over and over. I gave my very best effort to stop and to change. Instead of success, though, what I kept experiencing was failure. These well-intentioned promises made to me by people I trusted did not hold true. The proposed formula was not enough.

Because of my repeated failure to make a permanent change, every word that I heard or read about having enough faith to change my pornography-related behaviors only fed the part of me that told me I was an evil monster. When people in my community talked about overcoming the desire for viewing pornography with faith and spirituality they even sometimes mentioned, as an aside, that if it was bad enough I could go get help from a therapist. Correspondingly, I felt even more isolated from my peers. I felt like if I was the "one" kid who truly needed help, then my belief about being less-than-human must be true. This contradicted all that I had been taught by my family and ecclesiastical leaders about having a divine potential and about how special I am as a person. So I sank further and further into denial and addiction. Part of me was desperately hoping I wasn't that "one" extreme case and part of me was craving things that might tell me I am worthless. I was very confused.

This was all an endless feast for my shame and my addiction.

I feel like I need to make something clear:  I am in no way trying to defame or defile my family or religious community.

My family has consistently offered me an overwhelming amount of support and love. They are, and always will be, a precious gift and a balm for my wounds. My family has always been there for me and treated me like I were the most celebrated human on the planet. They teach me how to love and give me hope and happiness in ways I can't enumerate. I love them dearly and I'm deeply honored to be a part of my family.

My ecclesiastical leaders taught me so many wonderful things throughout my youth and they were all such great examples so me. They taught me the value of diligence and hard work. They helped me learn to be self-reliant and to learn the importance of spirituality. I'm so thankful to be a part of my community.

I'm sharing my feelings and reactions to the cultural dialogue and instructions given to me because those things all profoundly affected my experience with denial, shame, and addiction.

My life, of course, was not all darkness and gloom. There were time periods when I was able to clench my fists, grit my teeth, and fight the addictive impulses. With what I believe was divine help, I did hold off my addiction long enough to complete two amazing years of volunteer missionary work for my church and to be worthy to be married in a holy temple thereafter. What I was never able to control, even at the best of times, was the part of my mind that kept telling me I was worthless. The shame game that my mind was so used to playing never really ended. My addict brain had nearly four years to slowly and carefully set me up for another prolonged relapse into addiction after I was married.

From before I can even remember, the role of husband and father has been my most valued and anticipated role. As a married man, I did my very best to live up to the ideal of a husband--and later on, as a father--that I had created from my youth. What I didn't expect was the complexity of my relationship with my wife. I expected her to be physically affectionate like my parents were, but that's just not who she is. My expectations for physical affection and sexual intimacy were unrealistic. I was confused and frequently felt a very real pain because I felt rejected by my most treasured companion. My wife was also confused and felt manipulated by my addictive drive. Understandably, her desire for physical affection and intimacy gradually decreased.

My wife has a firecracker personality. My perception was that the more I tried to be dependent on her to fulfill my perceived "need" for physical affection, the more she treated me like a child in other areas of our relationship. It seemed to me that the smallest of mistakes would elicit a response of frustration or anger. This, of course, only fueled my shame. I even found myself sometimes craving her punishing words because they pierced my soul like nothing else could ever do so.

My life's most valuable relationship became my greatest source of shame and worthlessness and about a year after we were married I was right back into my pornography addiction.

Now, I don't believe I was led to my wife by chance. In many ways, she is the kind of spouse that the mind of an addict truly needs. She is independent, not co-dependent. She is confident in herself and doesn't really struggle with her self-worth. My wife's determination is close to the top among a myriad of characteristics I adore. She has confidence in me, as her husband, and she loves me the very best way she knows how.  The way she fills my heart means more to me than life itself. She maintains her dignity and her self-respect as well as her confidence in me and in my ability to control my addiction. She is my eternal companion. Simply, she is the best.

Because I value my marital relationship over all else, there was a limit to how far I would go to hide my compulsion from my wife. So even at a time when I was in denial about being a pornography addict, I couldn't stand the burden of keeping my wrongful sexual actions from her. The few times throughout our marriage that I had the courage to honestly tell her about my "habits" absolutely destroyed my self-image. I had to accept that I truly was a devil, destined for failure. Those events were so explosively shaming that they led to depression and suicidality.

After opening up to my wife, my compulsive behaviors soon took on a newer and darker dimension:  cutting. I soon discovered that if I cut myself in the moment when I had a sexual impulse, that urge would dissipate. I didn't succumb. I was immensely relieved. I had already tried everything suggested to me previously, so I thought I had finally found the solution that I had been so desperate for. I never anticipated that my "solution" would not only fail, but drive me deeper and deeper into depression and shame.

A little over a year ago, I had arrived at a point when the cutting had escalated. I sat in a room, bloodied, and with a blade in my hand. I had a horrific thought. I thought I had to make a choice:  either live as a struggling porn addict who cuts himself or end my life right then and there. The thought frightened me. I sort of realized what was happening and I thought of the hope that my family and faith tried so hard to instill in me. I tossed my blade across the room in fear.

I decided to share my burden. I told my wife what was happening. I told a close friend who gave me a spiritual blessing, during which I was told that I would meet someone whom I could trust and who would be able to help set me on the right path. Not two weeks later I met a man who would become one of my closest friends. During one of our introductory conversations I learned that he is a sex addiction therapist. I felt like I could trust him and I started to tell him about my struggles. I started to talk about my compulsive habits as what they truly were:  addictions. My self-image began to improve as I started to recognize that I was just as valuable to my new friend as he was to me because he placed the same confidence in me regarding his own life burdens. He referred me to a psychologist that has helped me to process through not only the sexual abuse that started all of this, but other events related to my shame and worthlessness.

Deciding to trust others with my secret burden propelled me out of denial and gave me the space to start counteracting my shame. As I educated myself I started to see my addiction as a mental illness and not as a reason for shame and self-loathing. I started to accept that addiction is a part of my life. I realized that this is ok; that it doesn't mean I'm a monster or a devil. It is a part of who I am, even a gift. Coupling this more academic perspective on the illness of addiction with repentance and spirituality has given me more strength than I had ever considered possible.

I know what addiction is, where it comes from, and how to treat it. I know what shame is and how damaging, even dangerous, it can be. I know that my God is watchful over me and that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ I can repent and move on with a bright hope that I'm going to reach my goals. I have learned that I must treat my addiction-related illness separately from my sins and that the Atonement applies to both the illness and the sin in beautiful, unique ways.

I know that I am enough; that I'm worth everything I am and everything I am given.

I know that I'm not alone.

My friends, I love you.

And in case I haven't made it clear yet, I trust you to know who I am.

I am trusting you right now to know all of me.

Because right now I’m telling that terrified little boy inside me that it will be ok. I’m telling him that it’s not his fault and that he is beautiful and precious.

If you are struggling with anything like this--with abuse or addiction or anything that has brought you shame or makes you feel worthless or isolated or gross inside or like God and others could never love you--I hope that my openness in such a public place will allow you to feel like you are not alone and that you are loved. Please feel free to message me if you need to talk about anything. My door is open.