Um, there really isn't any too-long, didn't-read. I thought of writing one due to the oppressive length of this post, but I couldn't think of it. Maybe someone could do so in a comment if they feel this post needs one. Also, feel free to ask me anything. I'll try to respond. If this is too long, just don't read. This is about my experiences with the Pornography Addition Recovery Program provided by LDS Family Services. As you will see, if helped me cope, but it did not ultimately help me feel healthy and whole as a normal human being. Ultimately, losing my faith in the LDS Church and relying upon faith in a universalist deity who probably loved me is what helped most. ;–)

In the Beginning

I don't remember when I first actively sought out porn. I was probably around 12 or 13. I remember getting up late at night to sneak to the basement to watch soft-core pornography on the pay-per-view channels (if you watched the squiggly lines long enough you'd usually get a period of a few minutes where the picture resolved itself enough to be viewable) and over the dial-up Internet (I remember often bringing a pillow down to the family room to muffle the modem handshake). I got found out pretty early on by my parents, who were horrified. To their credit I think they were far more horrified at how the world was attacking their son than at me personally; my dad actually said he was somewhat relieved that I was viewing heterosexual pornography because I was so anti-social around girls that he was worried I was gay! Viewing pornography led to discussions with the Bishop, computer access restrictions and passwords, and increased chores. Over the years I would get found again and again, and each time would get better and better at hiding my tracks as well as getting past the still-laughable protections and walls available to prevent such access.

I'm not certain how much background information is really needed; I'll answer questions if people have them. I did not look at pornography during my mission, which was the longest time I had away from pornography. After returning home it only took two months before I gave in and started viewing it yet again.

Marriage

I was married in the summer of 2005 (and still am, thank whatever gods may be). I told my wife about my problems while driving off to our honeymoon (this is still a huge regret I have; though I feel differently about porn now than I did then, I was not open and honest while we were courting and engaged; this is never a good idea in any relationship). She was annoyed that I had waited to tell her, but said she had figured I had such a problem while we were dating and that as long as I could refrain from it in the future things would be fine.

Of course, I was found out by her eventually. It nearly destroyed our fragile new marriage; I went into a spiral of depression and came close to killing myself in desperation (and was prevented only because I'm an idiot when it comes to kitchen knives and tried to cut my wrists with a bread knife; it only resulted in some very bloody and painful wrists which mostly healed after a few days and a marriage that became even more strained and desperate). I went to talk to the bishop who, after telling me quite honestly that he was not a trained psychologist and couldn't really help me beyond offering support at any time, recommended that I meet with a psychologist and a support group with LDS Family Services. The ward would pay for the psychologist and I scheduled an appointment. I met with the psychologist a couple times (he was a guy just a few years older than myself and I only recently found out how lucky I was to get a guy with some actual psychological training and a degree; while they hire real psychologists now, there's a lot of non-professionals who continue to be employed by LDSFS as counsellors) but gave up because he could not offer me a quick fix (yes, I have met with therapists since then and understand quite a bit more what I was going through).

LDS Addiction Support Group

When I first attended the support group I was embarrassed at the campiness of it all, but I felt the Spirit telling me it was good to be there (and, if you're wondering about how I describe it I'm using the words I would have used back then; I don't believe in a “sex addiction” or spirituality the way I did back then, but it's easier for me to remember things if I just talk about things using the words I would have used there). The missionary (called by the local stake, I think) made it a point to shake my hand (commence jokes about making sure of washed hands now...) and assured me that attending would be a great benefit to my life and help me to be happier. He was the only person in a suit around. It was crowded (to be fair, this was at BYU) and the men attending filled two separate rooms (there are apparently similar meetings for women, but I can't tell you anything other than they met on a different floor than us and they did a good job keeping the two genders separate; I never saw a single woman who attended that group). There were desks in a wide circle around the room I chose to enter. We signed an attendance roll (first names only; there was no discussion back to our bishops from the meeting, everything was kept quite private) and sat down. It was apparent that some of the people had been attending for a while as they would talk and laugh with each other as others arrived and sat down. I felt embarrassed to be there; it was like giving in to being a pervert. That feeling was only intensified when the meeting began.

After the opening prayer the meeting was led by a middle-aged guy who shared his experiences going through AA to treat alcoholism when he was younger and also had gone two years without “acting out” through the LDSFS Addiction Recovery program (I soon found that the group had its own lingo to talk about certain things without having to constantly mention painful words like “porn” or “masturbation”; included in this was the phrase “acting out” which was almost always used in place of “watched porn”, “masturbated”, or both). His success at avoiding porn had helped to soften his relationship with his now ex-wife and children. He had been invited by LDSFS to continue to attend the group to aid us by being someone who understood us (while the missionaries I've seen in these groups either develop empathy quickly or leave, few of them ever admit to having ever “acted out” before; they never claimed to understand what we were going through, which I think most of us appreciated).

We then read, in unison, the step of the week (there are twelve steps; they are the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous “Mormonized”, mentioning “Heavenly Father” instead of a “Power”, etc) and somebody who had previously been invited to do so bore their testimony about their experiences with that particular step. We then started going around the group. Each person was expected to adhere to the following script:

“Hi, my name is Tom, and I am a sex addict.”

(Everyone: Hello, Tom.)

“It has been two days since I last acted out.”

(Everyone claps; the most enthusiastic clapping is reserved for long periods of time, such as over three months, and extremely short periods of time, such as days or even sometimes hours.)

“I'm working on the fifth step, but I haven't yet worked up the courage to talk with someone about my addiction yet.”

After that, you are expected to share how the past week had been for you. You're expected to discuss how difficult it had been but also to focus on any successes, even temporary ones (“even though I acted out almost every day last week I actually had luck keeping myself under control for all of Thursday. It was hard, but I gave a phone call to Brett when I was feeling weak and he helped talk me through it.” Clapping probably ensues.) Details of porn or masturbation were generally frowned upon and it was not uncommon for an uncomfortable individual to raise his hand while someone was describing their week to ask them to not give so many details. While you could decline to discuss the week, it was expected that everyone who was there would share how long it had been since they last “acted out”. The missionary would keep track of anyone who had asked to go later and the evening wasn't over until everyone had spoken (nobody pushed very hard for people to speak, but by the end of the evening everyone else in the room had spoken about the same thing so it was rare to have someone leave without deciding to speak; we were a band of brothers).

Nothing was defined for us. Some men who were there would say that they had only acted out the previous day and would share that they had merely had imagined an attractive woman nude or imagined having sex with her and that was why they were resetting their day count. Some, as I've shared elsewhere, would consider masturbation to be “acting out” on their addiction and might mention that they were addicted to both porn and masturbating. Others would just keep things vague behind a simple admission to being a sexual “addict”. We were not allowed to critique anyone else's approach to their problem, although we could share being inspired by what individuals had said during the evening. The missionary would quietly speak up to defuse problems and things rarely got out of control.

There were plenty of odd things that were shared: revelations people had received that had helped them, miracles people had experienced through their struggles, sources of spiritual strength that had led to a day without porn (ranging from hunting to classical music), people's discussion of the power and influence of Satan in their lives in regards to their “triggers” (actions, sometimes as benign as a particular kind of smell or food, that would psychologically set them off to “act out”), and once or twice I heard men announce that God had told them they were cured and would not be coming back (they came back). While some people rolled their eyes at the more bizarre statements, respect for each other was the overarching rule and that was enough to prevent problems. The shared cross that we all shared was enough to keep that respect in place. In fact, the only people who I ever saw be openly mocked were the rare visitors we had who came to observe. One was a visiting reporter for the Daily Universe who, when it was his turn to share his problems, shared his testimony of how dangerous of a problem pornography was to feeling the Spirit; he was taken apart in later people's testimonies as almost everyone tearfully described how their relationship with God had grown stronger even in the midst of their addiction. Another, and the only one I personally joined with others in verbally attacking, was a father who came with his son (it was very apparent that if he had not come with him his son would have been anywhere but there; he walked in the room with his hand tightly gripping his son's wrist and the hand ra