Letter to myself:

Dear me, addicted,

You have spent nearly a decade now addicted to sex and pornography. I know what led you to your demise is unquestionably horrid. Your story is heartbreaking, and nobody should have to go through it. Nevertheless, you have, and it’s been a nine year struggle for you.

This is my letter to you.

You can’t blame yourself for what happened to you, how it all started. You were young and innocent; you were unaware of what hell would be brought upon you. What she did to you was horrible, and you can’t spend your life blaming yourself for that. I am praying for you, that you may learn to forgive yourself, to forgive her, finally and be able to let go of resentment.

However, though you have nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to her actions upon you, your actions in return have held nine years of addiction and suffering, for both you and many others. How many people have you affected? From eleven to now, you have grown to believe the lie that your addiction is terminal, and that has affected every relationship you’ve had. From meaningless sex and one night stands, to the constant secrets behind your parents’ backs, to genuinely wanting to love someone and ruining them in the process because you can’t get over your problem. Frankly, it needs to stop. You need to stop.

You’re a bible major who has been called by the Lord into pastoral and university work, and you can’t even go a day without wanting to grab the next opportunity to get your fix, be it in girls or online. There is a Spirit inside you, anxiously waiting for an unadulturated communion with you, so that he may finish with you what he planned from the start. Do not let your temporary struggles deter you from permanent freedom, from permanent purpose.

You mean more than the lies you’ve been told. Each girl means more than the scenes on a screen, or the thoughts in your head. Repent, and turn back to your first Love.

You are stronger than this, and you mean more than this. I believe in you.

Sincerely, me, freed.

Letter from my sex addict:

Dear me, freed,

She was fourteen, I was eleven. An older girl, a wiser girl. I couldn’t let her down. She wanted me to do things to her, and to do things to me. So I went along.

I knew deep down it didn’t feel right. One time I remember asking her if God would like us doing this. She responded, “God doesn’t care.” These words have haunted me every day of my life. “God doesn’t care.”

From that moment on, I assumed every ‘girlfriend’ I would have would desire to be touched like that, desire to be ‘loved’ like that. One in particular would absolutely change my world.

A girl I had known since thirteen would grow to love me, and by my sophomore year, by around sixteen, we would begin dating.

She was beautiful. A perfectly pure girl. A woman at that, she was seventeen nearly eighteen. I would steal her innocence, and spend the next two years, eight months and six days constantly hurting her, defaming both her reputation and soul.

How selfish was I to do such a thing, you might ask. Well, I didn’t know how to love. No one ever told me. I didn’t know what love looked like, no one ever showed me. When the time came, all I knew was sexual devotion; the worship of flesh.

She showed me grace and love for nearly three years. She pleaded me to change, and prayed for me everyday. I finally felt too unworthy, too hopeless, to try anymore.

I broke with her last, and spent my freshman year of college alone and deeper than ever.

Though I attend a Christian college, a majority of the girls are not at all looking for the godly man. They seek the same destruction that grips me. Many mistakes and four semesters later, here I am, a broken man lying on my kitchen floor, wondering how much further my addiction could spread.

I don’t know what love looks like.

I’m a broken shell of a man, who is desperately looking for a way out.

This is my story,

Sincerely, me, addicted.