Letter to myself:
Dear Sex Addict,
I’ve spent so much time ignoring you, acting like you don’t exist anymore, but whenever you want to step into the limelight, I’m just as unsure of myself or how to deal with you as I was when I was 13. I’m tired of sitting in the same place, following your suggestions when I know from the thousand other times, that they won’t lead to the fulfillment and satisfaction you are promising me right now.
You tell me that porn won’t take as much time, you tell me that it will hurt less than the discipline of drawing near to God, but I see that now as just another one of your lies. I choose (prayerfully) to stop buying into those lies anymore.
I want true freedom, even if it hurts a little. I want to be able to look my spiritual brothers in the eye and tell them with sincerity that I’ve found freedom from you. I want to pour into my wife the same encouragement and blessing she pours into me, rather than letting you slowly sap her of her trust and joy.
You have kept me from my ambitions, my desire to write, by making my alone time a place where I act out my fantasies rather than living out my dreams. I want to reclaim these moments for my walk with Jesus and my passion for writing. That means the next time you suggest we look at porn, I’m running somewhere else and I’m going to tell my loved ones (the one’s that know I’m dealing with you) where I’m going and why.
I’m ready to do what it takes to get both of us through this. I’m ready for both of us to be free.
Letter from my sex addict:
Where will you go? What will you do? How will you cope with the loneliness that surrounds you when you’re by yourself. We both know what happened last night when you were so wracked with anxiety because you didn’t know how do deal with your loneliness. I’m the only constant in your life that has dealt with that loneliness. I’m the only one whose ever been able to completely distract you from the drama of your family life.
Sure, there’s a little shame and regret every time we co-conspire, but the serenity, the fulfillment, the soothing of those experiences is worth it. Right? You’ll just be dull and alone without me to carry you through this mess you call your life.
You will never be rid of me. And yes, your wife will eventually grow so tired of me, she’ll finally let distance creep between the two of you. And yes, your son will be broken by your failure to get rid of me just like you were by your dad. And yes, you will never get any closer to God because I will always be here to hold you back. And yes, anybody you try to get close to will always find a very thin but very solid wall guarding your heart from too much attachment and vulnerability – my insurance policy.
Sure, you can manage ignoring me for the rest of your life. But you’ll never be rid of me and I’ll destroy you before you do.