It’s an odd feeling, this seemingly self-inflicted pain. When my tendency would be to take a step back and to hide, I can’t. There is too much at stake. I would say it’s easier for me to deal with the pain I’ve caused others. I can openly work to right that. I can work diligently to pretty up the outside to at least provide the perception of progress and have others feel better as I improve. But that’s all it would be. Perception with no substance. I triumph for others but not for me. A hollow victory at best with no long lasting foundation to stop me from sliding right back into my habits. Working on me is definitely harder. The biggest reason? I can’t do it by myself.

I can’t dig down deep like it’s the bottom of the 9th with 2 outs of a tie game and swing for the fences. It just doesn’t work that way. Working on my problems is utterly problematic when I do it alone. How did I get here in the first place? Alone. How did I bury myself in my addiction? Alone. How did I find myself in the arms of another woman? Alone. How can I dig myself out of this pit and find healing? Without a doubt, not alone.

The paradigm needs to shift dramatically to ensure steps forward. This is a hard pill to swallow. To accept that I will need to come clean and share every and all details about who I am and what I’ve done is daunting. But Necessary. Each secret I keep is like a mask to wear. Each mask allows me to be who ever I think I need to be to whoever I interact with. Time spent in this lifestyle pulled me farther and farther from any truth and reality outside of the truth that I created. I was my own god.

What did I do? Within 48 hours of my wife leaving and taking our sons I reached out. I sought friends. They brought with them, life support. I can keep going. Once the thoughts of suicide faded enough I could think clearly I acted. I began to build barriers around me for protection both virtually and physically. The internet was gone from my home. I could manage without it. My life depended on it. Where it was necessary, accountability software and filtering was installed. Virtually, Covenant Eyes saved part of my soul from further damage. No amount of will power can do what it can.

Physically, I surrounded myself with people who I trusted. I took a risk. I had been taking risks my entire life, what’s one more. I met with, over and over again (still do), people who know my condition and have my (and my wife’s) best interests at heart. One more breath. One more step. One more day. I can do it. I can.

The pain inside of me now is a different animal. It can still hurt. The scars are still there. A little smaller maybe; shrinking everyday. Nowadays they don’t keep me up at night like they used to. No one has been able to tell me it will all just end one day and I won’t feel this way anymore. Strangely enough, even if they did, I’d know they were lying.

I’m reminded of a Saturday morning cartoon I used to watch growing up. Probably familiar to many. Alvin and the Chipmunks. One episode had them singing a song in an effort to help Theodore pass a test in school. Why I remember this I really have no clue. The line of the song was “…history is like a song; it repeats all the time…” While it seems that I’m doomed to walk the Earth replaying the events of my past, in reality that doesn’t have to be the case.

While the soundtrack of my past does play loud in my mind from time to time, touched off by seemingly insignificant events, or odd questions from my wife, it no longer affects my heart. For that I am eternally grateful. For it is the ability to keep ones past in the forefront of their minds that will empower them to not make the same mistakes twice. I’m counting on that.

I’m a normal guy. I’ve traveled a normal road. Where my story deviates from society’s normal is when the weight of the world came crashing down I did not run. I did not take the path of least resistance. I did not retreat. I turned around. I faced the darkness of the life I was leading. And I hit the light switch.

Amen.

If you’re interested, you can read my story at: http://www.covenanteyes.com/blog/2010/03/22/my-story-of-freedom-from-pornography/