My Testimony part II (a concise update)
Not sure where to begin with my updated testimony. This by no means is exhaustive but just a brief overview of how, what, when, where,of these past few months. A lot has happened since I first wrote part I of my testimony - some good and some not so good. This current period of my life has been a period of testing and change - and not at all good. I haven't slipped back into pornography or anything like that - I just have been tested on so many fronts.
The testing -
I had a nice job with CitiMortgage and I gave that up so that I could go to seminary. I though all was going to be a go and I'd complete my seminary education. This was not the case. I tried several avenues to raise money - in the end I had to drop because I couldn't afford tuition. On top of that my wife became pregnant with our fourth child. All this forced me back to work. Fortunately, CitiMortgage offered me a new position with a huge raise. I really thought that Wife and I were on our way to something special -until I got laid off.
All was fine with Citimortgage until our unit got called into a conference room and told that our jobs were being eliminated and that we were all laid off. Wonderful! Why in the world would God open new door with CitiMortgage and then slam that door shut. I just don't get it.
I can't figure out why God initially opened the door for seminary and then closed that avenue. Why then opened the door for such a great job just to take it away. This has been very frustrating to say the least.
I thought I would get a new job just like that. That was not to be. I have yet to find a job - part time, full time, any thing would be better than nothing, but all doors have been shut thus far. Even the temp agencies don't have work. Times are tough I guess.
Bipolar II-
In this mix of testing I learned that I am bipolar. A lot of people who know me don't believe that I am bipolar, but looking at the symptoms it sure explains a lot; especially my compulsive nature. I believe that I have bipolar. When the Dr's diagnosed me with Bipolar II they stopped one powerful antidepressant I was on and started treating my bipolar. This medication switch affected me in an adverse way. I could barely keep awake and had terrible mood swings. After about two months or so I finally stopped falling asleep standing up and became accustomed to the new drugs. The new drugs have helped with the compulsiveness, anxiety, depression and the hypo-manic episodes.
I am bipolar II. Which means my life is marked by deep depression with brief hypo-manic states. I experience a lot of anxiety, moodiness, and agitation. Bipolar II doesn't experience the crazy manic episodes of Bipolar I. Bipolar II has been described as less than crazy - lots of anxiety, agitation, moodiness and aspects of my life/mood/character that are unmanageable. For me it has been credit cards, sex/porn, and some psycho-motor agitation. When I am in a hypo-manic state I find myself not wanting sleep as much - not necessarily tired, I might be more creative or wanting to write more. In a hypo-manic state I might feel better than others, have grandiose ideas about myself; however, I mostly feel a great deal of anxiety and agitation. These hypo-manic states last only a short period - typically about four days or so and then I slip into depression.
Redo-
I honestly feel that I need to go back and redo the 8 principles of Celebrate Recovery - as the first thee principle state: Principle 1, "Realize I’m not God. I admit that I am powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable." Principle 2 states: "Earnestly believe that God exists, that I matter to Him, and that He has the power to help me recover." Finally, principles three states: "Consciously choose to commit all my life and will to Christ’s care and control." Principle 3 is the big one and I honestly struggle with that. I need tangible proof God can provide. I don't see how I can turn my life over to the care and control of God. That is a scary step for me - one that I do not take lightly. I think I need to revisit Principle 3 - and commit my life to Christ's care for my life.
So there you have it - my brief up date.
Blessings -
Michael, A sublime disaster saved by Grace
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
My Story
The Beginnings
I was first exposed to porn at a very young age. I can remember being 6, 7, & 8 years old and looking at the porn of a friend's dad. When I was nine my family rented a furnished home, and in the room I was staying I discovered a pornographic calendar. I was electrified and exhilarated by the images that I saw. During that same time, I discovered the joys of masturbation.For the following years, my journey into the porn-o-kingdom did not progress beyond touching myself and looking at the occasional bra ad in the Sunday paper.
1989 – 1993
These are the years I begin acting out with porn. My family of origin is nothing short of dysfunctional. It is in that context that I preface my story by emphasizing the two external forces at work on my inner being that contributed to emotional isolation and the wounding of my soul – which after all are the friends of sex addiction, right?
First (circa 1987), is my brother. He is my only sibling, and is four years older than I am. From the moment I was born he resented my existence. My brother, for all practical purposes, was my monster. Some children imagine there is a monster under the bed, but my monster slept in the room down the hall. I can’t speak about my brother’s story or motivations. Nevertheless, my brother was/is a drug addict (methamphetamines), and it was at his drug-addicted hands that I suffered emotional and physical abuse. Even to this day, I have nightmares about the emotional abuse I suffered.
The second factor was the impotence of my mother & father to protect me from this monster. My mom and dad were busy with their lives, and building a meaningful life for my brother and me. In reflection, I see the codependency that my mother exerted (and still does) over the family (and as one counselor has suggested, she possibly suffers from borderline personality disorder). My father traveled for work, and was absent for the better part of my adolescence.
My family’s dysfunction is the catalyst that caused me to suppress my “true self” and create a “false self”. As a result, I never connected with any of my peers in a meaningful way. I definitely feared the opposite sex, even though I longed to be close to them, emotionally and physically. The isolation in my soul was intense and powerful.
During these years, I discovered my father and brother’s porn stash. My brother, during this period, was having an explicit relationship with his future ex-wife. An explicit relationship acted out in front of me, and despite my protests. My mom and dad were clueless to all of this. I spent most of 1991 & 1992 in a deep depression; which my family (especially my mother) completely ignored, or told me to “get over it.”
It is sick, but porn was my refuge. In porn I found no condemnation; I found acceptance, and a willing partner. Porn allowed me to believe that I was in control. Via porn’s high, and the escape it provided from my inner turmoil, I managed to have a glimpse into my inner self, and feel at peace. However, this came with a heavy price: first, isolation and second, Satan shackled my soul with the chains of addiction, shame, and guilt.
Amber – 8th grade 1989 – through Freshmen year 1990
Jr. High was an extremely painful and awkward time for me. My Jr. High years saw the apex of my brother’s addiction to “meth” (and all around self-destruction). Seventh grade was scary; I felt alone and isolated with very few friends. Eighth grade was a little better as I fell in with a group of kids who all seemed normal, compared to the chaos with which I was living. To me, this group was a huge “warm fuzzy”. We would go to someone’s house for a birthday party or a get together for a dance. It was fun and innocent.
It was in 8th grade that I met Amber. She was the first girl I loved. I don’t know how, or the mechanics of it, but my soul became imprinted with hers, even though we were never boyfriend or girlfriend. We never kissed or held hands (not until later), but I found solace in her presence, and longed for her to nurture my soul.
I believe the reason for there being an imprint of her presence on my soul was the deluge of my brother’s increasingly erratic drug induced behavior. My brother was having psychotic episodes, delusions of grandeur, heightened paranoia, and extreme mood swings. I began to fear deeply for my safety, and was afraid to be home alone with him. I remember trying to hide in the spare room of the house so he wouldn’t know I was home.
My only sources of salvation were church, karate lessons, and my group of friends, especially Amber. Amber and I spoke frequently on the phone, wrote letters to each other (hard to imagine life without email), and I’d ride my bike to her house.
The nightmare of my brother came crashing hard upon me one afternoon after Karate class. My mom and dad picked me up; it was serious stuff. My dad explained that my brother’s behavior had become increasingly volatile, and he was mentally gone. “DOH! I could’ve told you that! I was the one who had to live with him remember?”
Then, my dad told me told me that if he was violent, or acted funny, that evening we (meaning me) were going to call 911. He asked for the impossible – for me to call 911! Not my mom, or him for that matter, but for me to call! I do not think he realized just how much I feared my brother, because this was an impossible task.
Shortly after we got home, the inevitable happened, my brother went on a rampage – I don’t remember about what, but I am sure it was about me and how he was going to teach me a lesson. After all, in his drug induced psychosis, he could see into my mind and knew what I was thinking. He knew secret stuff no one else knew – secrets to life told to him my Peter Townsend of the Who.
As soon as my parents and I returned home, I ran! I ran as far away as I could get; unfortunately, this was only to the top of the street. If I had it my way, I would have run China and beyond! I was at the top of the street telling one of my friends what was happening, when I heard the monster’s thunderous voice bellowing out my name. The fear of death must of washed over me, because my friend promptly said, “I am out of here,” and left. I will never forget that moment – nor forget the fear and powerlessness I felt.
I was frozen and couldn’t move. This frozen fear is analogous to the frozen feelings I experience today. It was then, right then and there, that I truly split (my true “self” died and my false self emerged – the metamorphosis was complete).
My brother was bellowing my name (he is a master of intimidation), and I was afraid. Then, I saw my dad emerge from somewhere and yell up to me, “It’s Ok Mike, I need you to come home.” If only I could have gone “home”. If only I could have fallen into the arms of my mother, to have her stroke my hair and tell me it was all going to be OK. If only.
I road my bike down to our house – the whole time my brother’s evil menacing gaze was locked onto me. I went inside, and was followed by my dad and brother. Things happened rapidly. I quickly went to my room and hid, without realizing my mother was on the phone with 911, and my dad was playing cat and mouse with a crazy person. Soon, my dad took the phone and my brother ran out of the house.
Two important things happened to solidify the emergence of my false self. First, I was sitting in my room listening to a song that brought a certain amount of comfort to me. It was a song about a broken home. My mother appeared at my doorway and contemptuously dismissed my fear, shame, confusion, and loneliness with these words: “What are you listening to, this isn’t a broken home.” In a matter of seconds, I had been dismissed again – that wound has yet to heal.
Second, my dad was upset at me for not being the one to call 911. He has reminded me throughout the years that he needed me that night – he needed me to be the one to call 911. I was only a child, Dad, only a child – a child who feared the devil living in the room down the hall!
My brother, for whatever reason, had come back into the house. In a matter of moments, two sheriffs appeared at our door. My brother was in the garage doing I have no idea what. They arrested him, and I have never been so relieved in my life. To this day, I wish they’d put a bullet in his head and ended all our suffering.
In all this chaos was Amber. Somehow, she had come to embody everything I hoped for, and all the love and nurturing I needed.
To comfort myself, I stuffed my pain, and filled my mind and soul with porn. I watched porn and masturbated everyday of my life, from my freshmen year until I was a senior in High School.
Calling, College and Marriage
At the end of my freshmen year of High School I experienced a profound moment with Christ. I previously thought this moment encompassed my calling into the ministry. However, under the microscope of perspective and reflection, I now believe that this moment was my “real self” experiencing the pure love of Christ.
I was a co-counselor at a kid’s camp for fourth through sixth graders. During the evening vespers, we sat singing a typical camp song when the Holy Spirit poured out on all of us. Campers, counselors, and pastors were all in tears, and I just sobbed. I now wish that one of the pastor’s would have had the insight to know that my inner child was reaching out (but no one there really knew the extent of the trauma my soul had suffered the year before).
At some point in time, I did feel a calling into the ministry. I don’t know what God was saying to me, but I felt God speak to my heart and soul, and I believed that I was suppose to be in full time Christian ministry.
I want to mention that during my senior year in High School, I believe, I experienced my inner child and felt the freest since being a child. I walked close to God, and my soul burned for Christ and His presence. I had a very close girlfriend at the time, as well as being close to men in my church. My mom’s codependency was in remission, and my dad was closer to home. My brother had moved out of the house and was now living with his girlfriend (now ex-wife).
I went off to college to become a pastor, and had zero access to porn during this season. I dated more, and met my future wife. Her name is Joanna. I can’t say it was love at first sight, and in fact I dumped her for another girl.
However, I believe that God drew us together – besides, don’t two dysfunctional people make wonderful couples? It was during the winter of 1995 that I fell in love with Joanna. We walked along the streets of our mid-western college town, holding hands and talking like lovers do. One night, as we passed under the light of a street lamp, there was an iridescent glow around Joanna; I knew then she was the one. Joanna was probably the most innocent, tender, nurturing, and loving person I had ever met (and perfectly codependent). I loved (and love) her with every fiber of my being, and couldn’t wait to marry her. Joanna and I are two peas in a pod, and compliment each other in not only dysfunctional ways, but in healthy, real practical ways as well. We were both very idealistic about life, ministry, and marriage.
THE RETURN OF THE BEAST
It was soon after marriage that my porn addiction made its grand re-entrance into my life. Addiction’s spark came from an innocuous moment in the movie The Santa Clause. Tim Allen's character quotes a bumper sticker with a phone number on it. In real life, that number actually turned out to be a phone sex number. I discovered this when I heard a news report about children calling this number only to find out it was a phone sex line. As I listened to the story, something deep within my soul - a debased, raunchy, beast -hungered for a misconnection via phone sex.
For reasons I have yet to understand fully, I called that stupid number. In a spiritual sense, my soul was fettered with each digit I dialed. I had gross phone sex for the next six months. I was on a complete porno bender. I found porn shops to buy porn movies in neighboring towns. I once masturbated in a public booth of a porno store – lust had consumed my soul. My young loving wife was devastated when she discovered what I had done, and yet, she was the perfect enabler for this addiction.
I had naively believed that being married would cure my desire for porn. Marriage simply revealed how emotionally stunted I was, there was a huge void in my soul for love, intimacy, and nurturing. I was hungry for true emotional and physical intimacy; something I never received sufficiently as a child. I thought marriage would fill that void, through being a couple, and sexual intimacy. Learning from the past, I realize that the nurturing I need can only be provided by the healing and redemptive power of Jesus Christ, and, through the choices, I make to be emotionally intimate with my wife.
I wish that my private sin had remained secret; because, once my wife discovered my addiction, I tried hard to seduce her into watching x-rated movies with me. I felt this would help contain my addiction. My wife went along with this scheme for a while, but soon her own personal guilt was too much for her. She refused. I wasn't angry with her - in fact, I was kind of glad she refused – hoping her will-power would rub off on me. In reality, my personal porn addiction continued to engulf my soul, and lead me further along the path of the shadows.
Marriage and Ministry
Hurting my wife via my addiction (and the resulting abuse) only increased the pain and sorrow I felt; moreover, being a sex addict and in the ministry only helped to solidify the shame and guilt of my porn addiction. Insanity, shame, and powerlessness only forced me deeper into the shadowy world of porn, in search of relief – which alienated me from my wife and Jesus Christ.
It pains me now, knowing that my lovely, devoted, innocent (yet highly dysfunctional and codependent) wife was sucked into a marriage of contradiction. It is impossible for me to take full responsibility for all of the dysfunctions within our doubled-life marriage. We each entered into holy matrimony with our own set of hurts, habits, and hang-ups. However, I do take full and complete responsibility for breaking our wedding vows by abusing porn, masturbating, lusting, going to strip clubs, anger, rage, and being abusive.
Being in the ministry revealed just how stunted my emotional growth was. I turned to porn to comfort my soul quicker than a drunk turns to the bottle. Emotionally, I was (and still am) unable to handle the pressures of ministry. My soul, character, and false ego crumbled under criticism. I longed for someone to rescue me, so I turned to lust to intoxicate me with the numbing effects of porn.
Because I was using porn to numb myself from dealing with the painful feelings of being in the ministry, and the abuse I suffered as a child, I began to emotionally distance myself from my wife, and take a lot of the rage I felt over my insanity and powerlessness out on her. How our marriage survived I will never know – accept by a divine act of God’s will.
The chaos of my soul, the unmanageablity, the powerlessness cumulated to the point that I resigned my youth pastor position at the end of 1999
After only three years of ministry, my wife and I packed our stuff up and moved. We were emotionally fragile, and weak and neither one of us was dealing with our emotional baggage. I compulsively abuse porn through the next five years, through the birth of two of our kids. We lived on and off with my parents during at that time, and even now, as I type these words, I sit in the house of my youth. I resent and hate myself for where I have allowed my addiction to carry my wife and me.
Living in the Shadow Lands
In May of 1999 I had found myself alone, while my wife went to a women’s retreat. I traveled the 100 miles to my parent’s house. They live in a city with a smorgasbord of adult bookstores and strip clubs. On my way home, I finally took the plunge and went to a strip club for the first time. It was real-life sex in the flesh. Being in those dark dungeons of death was intoxicating, and ever so numbing.
It is sick and twisted to think, but I was reaching out to these “girls” for love and nurturing. That has got to be the most insane thing I have ever written, but the truth is so real. In my insane, sick thinking, I actually thought (at that time it was still on the subconscious level) I could find more comfort from the breast of a slave than in the arms of my wife, or from God Himself. Is there no end to my depravity?
Toward the end of 2005 I began to pray for someone to whom I could confess my depravity. My acting out was no longer to images on TV, or in magazines, but I was craving and pursuing strip clubs on an increasing basis. When I first started going to strip clubs I would only watch the girls dance, and wouldn’t get lap dances. That boundary didn’t last long.
The first lap dance I received was an emotionally charged experience. The young lady preformed her duty as paid, and then afterward I just wanted to hold her. Again, this demonstrates just how injured my soul is. I guess it is interesting that I was finally reaching out to something “real”, instead of imaginary.
During 2005 I began working for a mortgage company. The person I worked with was a huge sex addict, and further along on his path of destruction. He showed me where to find prostitutes online, and in my area for in calls or out calls. This knowledge really stressed me out, because now I began to fantasize about connecting with one of these whores, as I use to fantasize about going to strip clubs.
I never shared this with my wife fearing she would personalize this worse than the rest of this crap. To be honest, I have only confessed this part of my story to my 12-step group, and none other. I would “surf” a particular website looking for whores and fantasizing about being with them. I lived vicariously through the exploits of my co-worker. (UPDATE: as of the typing of this sentence my wife has read the above and is now fully aware of all my dirty little secrets.)
Breakthroughs and the Light
In November of 2005, I got a territory sales position with a major mortgage company. This meant I had to travel for a living. The traveling provided the opportunity for a breakthrough in the darkness I was longing for. Of course, I binged on porn at every hotel I stayed in, found local strip clubs to frequent, as well as surfing that website looking for whores in whatever city I was in. Thank God, I never had the money, or the guts, to make a misconnection.
I found a friend in our church’s head deacon. I took a risk and shared a little bit of my story. The deacon received my story with grace and compassion. He pointed me to a church that he knew of a group for men, but I was not ready to go just yet (by the way he was the answer to my prayers). I also found my first counselor – a wonderful ex-addict who gently led me to the light of Jesus Christ.
The Breakthrough and the Light II
My first trip out of town was to a convention in Ontario, California. I discovered that there were many strip clubs in Ontario. I picked one and went. I found myself in a private room with a stripper who allowed me to touch her in ways they do not allow in the city I am from. After the dance, I was consumed with lust and I received another dance and another and another.
She was aesthetically attractive, and the dance was full of touching, groping, and holding. I wasted $200 of my family’s money. The last $200 we had. I am not proud of this. After I was done, I went back to my hotel room and masturbated to release the pressure, and to complete the ritual.
Afterward, I had a moment of clarity, a moment of complete sanity. Sitting on my hotel bed, humbled, frustrated, angry, mortified, fearing for my marriage, longing for my wife, and for my God, I cried out to Jesus.
This was a huge shift for me. Up to this point, I had never longed for my wife in such a nurturing way. I longed for her beauty and her soul – I become such a fool, trapped by the sirens cry. Nor, had I longed for God to rescue me from such a perspective of powerlessness.
I looked up some churches in the area and found one to visit. The pastor and I sat down. He talked a lot. I listened. Then I made my first confession – told him my story. I bore my soul. We prayed; I went home. I was now ready for recovery. Jesus had broken through the darkness; he had been calling to me, breaking me down, but this was the first time I was willing to listen.
Recovery
I contacted the church my deacon friend had recommended. They directed me to a men’s sexual addiction group. My first time going was a huge step. I drove around the block about 8 million times before I finally got out of the car.
Once inside I thought I was safe, I could just enjoy the meeting; listen to the speaker, and leave. However, God had something better in store for me. The leader of the group went through the group guidelines, did a reading, a devotional, and then concluded with saying: “Now we’ll go around the room, and introduce ourselves. Please state the length of your sobriety and what you’d like to be held accountable for.” Then he concluded by saying, “Hi My name is… and I am a sex addict. . .”
I was beside myself with fear. Soon it was my turn. There was an unseen force at work because I actually opened my lips and my second confession fell out of my mouth: “Hi my name is Mike and I am a sex addict.”
Admitting that I was a sex addict was such a relief. Then I just began to blab for about five minutes. I admitted to all the porn, masturbation, and strip clubs, and then I was done – and I was 2 million pounds lighter. In the end, I found acceptance and love like nothing I had ever felt before.
To be Continued…
I was first exposed to porn at a very young age. I can remember being 6, 7, & 8 years old and looking at the porn of a friend's dad. When I was nine my family rented a furnished home, and in the room I was staying I discovered a pornographic calendar. I was electrified and exhilarated by the images that I saw. During that same time, I discovered the joys of masturbation.For the following years, my journey into the porn-o-kingdom did not progress beyond touching myself and looking at the occasional bra ad in the Sunday paper.
1989 – 1993
These are the years I begin acting out with porn. My family of origin is nothing short of dysfunctional. It is in that context that I preface my story by emphasizing the two external forces at work on my inner being that contributed to emotional isolation and the wounding of my soul – which after all are the friends of sex addiction, right?
First (circa 1987), is my brother. He is my only sibling, and is four years older than I am. From the moment I was born he resented my existence. My brother, for all practical purposes, was my monster. Some children imagine there is a monster under the bed, but my monster slept in the room down the hall. I can’t speak about my brother’s story or motivations. Nevertheless, my brother was/is a drug addict (methamphetamines), and it was at his drug-addicted hands that I suffered emotional and physical abuse. Even to this day, I have nightmares about the emotional abuse I suffered.
The second factor was the impotence of my mother & father to protect me from this monster. My mom and dad were busy with their lives, and building a meaningful life for my brother and me. In reflection, I see the codependency that my mother exerted (and still does) over the family (and as one counselor has suggested, she possibly suffers from borderline personality disorder). My father traveled for work, and was absent for the better part of my adolescence.
My family’s dysfunction is the catalyst that caused me to suppress my “true self” and create a “false self”. As a result, I never connected with any of my peers in a meaningful way. I definitely feared the opposite sex, even though I longed to be close to them, emotionally and physically. The isolation in my soul was intense and powerful.
During these years, I discovered my father and brother’s porn stash. My brother, during this period, was having an explicit relationship with his future ex-wife. An explicit relationship acted out in front of me, and despite my protests. My mom and dad were clueless to all of this. I spent most of 1991 & 1992 in a deep depression; which my family (especially my mother) completely ignored, or told me to “get over it.”
It is sick, but porn was my refuge. In porn I found no condemnation; I found acceptance, and a willing partner. Porn allowed me to believe that I was in control. Via porn’s high, and the escape it provided from my inner turmoil, I managed to have a glimpse into my inner self, and feel at peace. However, this came with a heavy price: first, isolation and second, Satan shackled my soul with the chains of addiction, shame, and guilt.
Amber – 8th grade 1989 – through Freshmen year 1990
Jr. High was an extremely painful and awkward time for me. My Jr. High years saw the apex of my brother’s addiction to “meth” (and all around self-destruction). Seventh grade was scary; I felt alone and isolated with very few friends. Eighth grade was a little better as I fell in with a group of kids who all seemed normal, compared to the chaos with which I was living. To me, this group was a huge “warm fuzzy”. We would go to someone’s house for a birthday party or a get together for a dance. It was fun and innocent.
It was in 8th grade that I met Amber. She was the first girl I loved. I don’t know how, or the mechanics of it, but my soul became imprinted with hers, even though we were never boyfriend or girlfriend. We never kissed or held hands (not until later), but I found solace in her presence, and longed for her to nurture my soul.
I believe the reason for there being an imprint of her presence on my soul was the deluge of my brother’s increasingly erratic drug induced behavior. My brother was having psychotic episodes, delusions of grandeur, heightened paranoia, and extreme mood swings. I began to fear deeply for my safety, and was afraid to be home alone with him. I remember trying to hide in the spare room of the house so he wouldn’t know I was home.
My only sources of salvation were church, karate lessons, and my group of friends, especially Amber. Amber and I spoke frequently on the phone, wrote letters to each other (hard to imagine life without email), and I’d ride my bike to her house.
The nightmare of my brother came crashing hard upon me one afternoon after Karate class. My mom and dad picked me up; it was serious stuff. My dad explained that my brother’s behavior had become increasingly volatile, and he was mentally gone. “DOH! I could’ve told you that! I was the one who had to live with him remember?”
Then, my dad told me told me that if he was violent, or acted funny, that evening we (meaning me) were going to call 911. He asked for the impossible – for me to call 911! Not my mom, or him for that matter, but for me to call! I do not think he realized just how much I feared my brother, because this was an impossible task.
Shortly after we got home, the inevitable happened, my brother went on a rampage – I don’t remember about what, but I am sure it was about me and how he was going to teach me a lesson. After all, in his drug induced psychosis, he could see into my mind and knew what I was thinking. He knew secret stuff no one else knew – secrets to life told to him my Peter Townsend of the Who.
As soon as my parents and I returned home, I ran! I ran as far away as I could get; unfortunately, this was only to the top of the street. If I had it my way, I would have run China and beyond! I was at the top of the street telling one of my friends what was happening, when I heard the monster’s thunderous voice bellowing out my name. The fear of death must of washed over me, because my friend promptly said, “I am out of here,” and left. I will never forget that moment – nor forget the fear and powerlessness I felt.
I was frozen and couldn’t move. This frozen fear is analogous to the frozen feelings I experience today. It was then, right then and there, that I truly split (my true “self” died and my false self emerged – the metamorphosis was complete).
My brother was bellowing my name (he is a master of intimidation), and I was afraid. Then, I saw my dad emerge from somewhere and yell up to me, “It’s Ok Mike, I need you to come home.” If only I could have gone “home”. If only I could have fallen into the arms of my mother, to have her stroke my hair and tell me it was all going to be OK. If only.
I road my bike down to our house – the whole time my brother’s evil menacing gaze was locked onto me. I went inside, and was followed by my dad and brother. Things happened rapidly. I quickly went to my room and hid, without realizing my mother was on the phone with 911, and my dad was playing cat and mouse with a crazy person. Soon, my dad took the phone and my brother ran out of the house.
Two important things happened to solidify the emergence of my false self. First, I was sitting in my room listening to a song that brought a certain amount of comfort to me. It was a song about a broken home. My mother appeared at my doorway and contemptuously dismissed my fear, shame, confusion, and loneliness with these words: “What are you listening to, this isn’t a broken home.” In a matter of seconds, I had been dismissed again – that wound has yet to heal.
Second, my dad was upset at me for not being the one to call 911. He has reminded me throughout the years that he needed me that night – he needed me to be the one to call 911. I was only a child, Dad, only a child – a child who feared the devil living in the room down the hall!
My brother, for whatever reason, had come back into the house. In a matter of moments, two sheriffs appeared at our door. My brother was in the garage doing I have no idea what. They arrested him, and I have never been so relieved in my life. To this day, I wish they’d put a bullet in his head and ended all our suffering.
In all this chaos was Amber. Somehow, she had come to embody everything I hoped for, and all the love and nurturing I needed.
To comfort myself, I stuffed my pain, and filled my mind and soul with porn. I watched porn and masturbated everyday of my life, from my freshmen year until I was a senior in High School.
Calling, College and Marriage
At the end of my freshmen year of High School I experienced a profound moment with Christ. I previously thought this moment encompassed my calling into the ministry. However, under the microscope of perspective and reflection, I now believe that this moment was my “real self” experiencing the pure love of Christ.
I was a co-counselor at a kid’s camp for fourth through sixth graders. During the evening vespers, we sat singing a typical camp song when the Holy Spirit poured out on all of us. Campers, counselors, and pastors were all in tears, and I just sobbed. I now wish that one of the pastor’s would have had the insight to know that my inner child was reaching out (but no one there really knew the extent of the trauma my soul had suffered the year before).
At some point in time, I did feel a calling into the ministry. I don’t know what God was saying to me, but I felt God speak to my heart and soul, and I believed that I was suppose to be in full time Christian ministry.
I want to mention that during my senior year in High School, I believe, I experienced my inner child and felt the freest since being a child. I walked close to God, and my soul burned for Christ and His presence. I had a very close girlfriend at the time, as well as being close to men in my church. My mom’s codependency was in remission, and my dad was closer to home. My brother had moved out of the house and was now living with his girlfriend (now ex-wife).
I went off to college to become a pastor, and had zero access to porn during this season. I dated more, and met my future wife. Her name is Joanna. I can’t say it was love at first sight, and in fact I dumped her for another girl.
However, I believe that God drew us together – besides, don’t two dysfunctional people make wonderful couples? It was during the winter of 1995 that I fell in love with Joanna. We walked along the streets of our mid-western college town, holding hands and talking like lovers do. One night, as we passed under the light of a street lamp, there was an iridescent glow around Joanna; I knew then she was the one. Joanna was probably the most innocent, tender, nurturing, and loving person I had ever met (and perfectly codependent). I loved (and love) her with every fiber of my being, and couldn’t wait to marry her. Joanna and I are two peas in a pod, and compliment each other in not only dysfunctional ways, but in healthy, real practical ways as well. We were both very idealistic about life, ministry, and marriage.
THE RETURN OF THE BEAST
It was soon after marriage that my porn addiction made its grand re-entrance into my life. Addiction’s spark came from an innocuous moment in the movie The Santa Clause. Tim Allen's character quotes a bumper sticker with a phone number on it. In real life, that number actually turned out to be a phone sex number. I discovered this when I heard a news report about children calling this number only to find out it was a phone sex line. As I listened to the story, something deep within my soul - a debased, raunchy, beast -hungered for a misconnection via phone sex.
For reasons I have yet to understand fully, I called that stupid number. In a spiritual sense, my soul was fettered with each digit I dialed. I had gross phone sex for the next six months. I was on a complete porno bender. I found porn shops to buy porn movies in neighboring towns. I once masturbated in a public booth of a porno store – lust had consumed my soul. My young loving wife was devastated when she discovered what I had done, and yet, she was the perfect enabler for this addiction.
I had naively believed that being married would cure my desire for porn. Marriage simply revealed how emotionally stunted I was, there was a huge void in my soul for love, intimacy, and nurturing. I was hungry for true emotional and physical intimacy; something I never received sufficiently as a child. I thought marriage would fill that void, through being a couple, and sexual intimacy. Learning from the past, I realize that the nurturing I need can only be provided by the healing and redemptive power of Jesus Christ, and, through the choices, I make to be emotionally intimate with my wife.
I wish that my private sin had remained secret; because, once my wife discovered my addiction, I tried hard to seduce her into watching x-rated movies with me. I felt this would help contain my addiction. My wife went along with this scheme for a while, but soon her own personal guilt was too much for her. She refused. I wasn't angry with her - in fact, I was kind of glad she refused – hoping her will-power would rub off on me. In reality, my personal porn addiction continued to engulf my soul, and lead me further along the path of the shadows.
Marriage and Ministry
Hurting my wife via my addiction (and the resulting abuse) only increased the pain and sorrow I felt; moreover, being a sex addict and in the ministry only helped to solidify the shame and guilt of my porn addiction. Insanity, shame, and powerlessness only forced me deeper into the shadowy world of porn, in search of relief – which alienated me from my wife and Jesus Christ.
It pains me now, knowing that my lovely, devoted, innocent (yet highly dysfunctional and codependent) wife was sucked into a marriage of contradiction. It is impossible for me to take full responsibility for all of the dysfunctions within our doubled-life marriage. We each entered into holy matrimony with our own set of hurts, habits, and hang-ups. However, I do take full and complete responsibility for breaking our wedding vows by abusing porn, masturbating, lusting, going to strip clubs, anger, rage, and being abusive.
Being in the ministry revealed just how stunted my emotional growth was. I turned to porn to comfort my soul quicker than a drunk turns to the bottle. Emotionally, I was (and still am) unable to handle the pressures of ministry. My soul, character, and false ego crumbled under criticism. I longed for someone to rescue me, so I turned to lust to intoxicate me with the numbing effects of porn.
Because I was using porn to numb myself from dealing with the painful feelings of being in the ministry, and the abuse I suffered as a child, I began to emotionally distance myself from my wife, and take a lot of the rage I felt over my insanity and powerlessness out on her. How our marriage survived I will never know – accept by a divine act of God’s will.
The chaos of my soul, the unmanageablity, the powerlessness cumulated to the point that I resigned my youth pastor position at the end of 1999
After only three years of ministry, my wife and I packed our stuff up and moved. We were emotionally fragile, and weak and neither one of us was dealing with our emotional baggage. I compulsively abuse porn through the next five years, through the birth of two of our kids. We lived on and off with my parents during at that time, and even now, as I type these words, I sit in the house of my youth. I resent and hate myself for where I have allowed my addiction to carry my wife and me.
Living in the Shadow Lands
In May of 1999 I had found myself alone, while my wife went to a women’s retreat. I traveled the 100 miles to my parent’s house. They live in a city with a smorgasbord of adult bookstores and strip clubs. On my way home, I finally took the plunge and went to a strip club for the first time. It was real-life sex in the flesh. Being in those dark dungeons of death was intoxicating, and ever so numbing.
It is sick and twisted to think, but I was reaching out to these “girls” for love and nurturing. That has got to be the most insane thing I have ever written, but the truth is so real. In my insane, sick thinking, I actually thought (at that time it was still on the subconscious level) I could find more comfort from the breast of a slave than in the arms of my wife, or from God Himself. Is there no end to my depravity?
Toward the end of 2005 I began to pray for someone to whom I could confess my depravity. My acting out was no longer to images on TV, or in magazines, but I was craving and pursuing strip clubs on an increasing basis. When I first started going to strip clubs I would only watch the girls dance, and wouldn’t get lap dances. That boundary didn’t last long.
The first lap dance I received was an emotionally charged experience. The young lady preformed her duty as paid, and then afterward I just wanted to hold her. Again, this demonstrates just how injured my soul is. I guess it is interesting that I was finally reaching out to something “real”, instead of imaginary.
During 2005 I began working for a mortgage company. The person I worked with was a huge sex addict, and further along on his path of destruction. He showed me where to find prostitutes online, and in my area for in calls or out calls. This knowledge really stressed me out, because now I began to fantasize about connecting with one of these whores, as I use to fantasize about going to strip clubs.
I never shared this with my wife fearing she would personalize this worse than the rest of this crap. To be honest, I have only confessed this part of my story to my 12-step group, and none other. I would “surf” a particular website looking for whores and fantasizing about being with them. I lived vicariously through the exploits of my co-worker. (UPDATE: as of the typing of this sentence my wife has read the above and is now fully aware of all my dirty little secrets.)
Breakthroughs and the Light
In November of 2005, I got a territory sales position with a major mortgage company. This meant I had to travel for a living. The traveling provided the opportunity for a breakthrough in the darkness I was longing for. Of course, I binged on porn at every hotel I stayed in, found local strip clubs to frequent, as well as surfing that website looking for whores in whatever city I was in. Thank God, I never had the money, or the guts, to make a misconnection.
I found a friend in our church’s head deacon. I took a risk and shared a little bit of my story. The deacon received my story with grace and compassion. He pointed me to a church that he knew of a group for men, but I was not ready to go just yet (by the way he was the answer to my prayers). I also found my first counselor – a wonderful ex-addict who gently led me to the light of Jesus Christ.
The Breakthrough and the Light II
My first trip out of town was to a convention in Ontario, California. I discovered that there were many strip clubs in Ontario. I picked one and went. I found myself in a private room with a stripper who allowed me to touch her in ways they do not allow in the city I am from. After the dance, I was consumed with lust and I received another dance and another and another.
She was aesthetically attractive, and the dance was full of touching, groping, and holding. I wasted $200 of my family’s money. The last $200 we had. I am not proud of this. After I was done, I went back to my hotel room and masturbated to release the pressure, and to complete the ritual.
Afterward, I had a moment of clarity, a moment of complete sanity. Sitting on my hotel bed, humbled, frustrated, angry, mortified, fearing for my marriage, longing for my wife, and for my God, I cried out to Jesus.
This was a huge shift for me. Up to this point, I had never longed for my wife in such a nurturing way. I longed for her beauty and her soul – I become such a fool, trapped by the sirens cry. Nor, had I longed for God to rescue me from such a perspective of powerlessness.
I looked up some churches in the area and found one to visit. The pastor and I sat down. He talked a lot. I listened. Then I made my first confession – told him my story. I bore my soul. We prayed; I went home. I was now ready for recovery. Jesus had broken through the darkness; he had been calling to me, breaking me down, but this was the first time I was willing to listen.
Recovery
I contacted the church my deacon friend had recommended. They directed me to a men’s sexual addiction group. My first time going was a huge step. I drove around the block about 8 million times before I finally got out of the car.
Once inside I thought I was safe, I could just enjoy the meeting; listen to the speaker, and leave. However, God had something better in store for me. The leader of the group went through the group guidelines, did a reading, a devotional, and then concluded with saying: “Now we’ll go around the room, and introduce ourselves. Please state the length of your sobriety and what you’d like to be held accountable for.” Then he concluded by saying, “Hi My name is… and I am a sex addict. . .”
I was beside myself with fear. Soon it was my turn. There was an unseen force at work because I actually opened my lips and my second confession fell out of my mouth: “Hi my name is Mike and I am a sex addict.”
Admitting that I was a sex addict was such a relief. Then I just began to blab for about five minutes. I admitted to all the porn, masturbation, and strip clubs, and then I was done – and I was 2 million pounds lighter. In the end, I found acceptance and love like nothing I had ever felt before.
To be Continued…
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