Reed was exhausted and wanted no more of what his addiction promised. He leaned into recognizing the thoughts and behaviors that lured him away from following through this step in taking control of his life. Reed replaced old behaviors with new outer circle behaviors, such as meditating, exercising, reaching out to his accountability people, and meetings. He kept a journal to focus on the when and why his cravings showed up. Reed also wrote a letter to his addiction. He learned to address it as a separate entity of himself, as he saw a bigger part of himself becoming a wise self. He no longer wanted the addictive part to have its way with him. His letter comes with permission, and is included on page 121 of my book, Becoming: A Guide to Recovery from Sexual Addiction While Helping Your Partner Trust Again.
To my addiction:
I am writing an assignment to say goodbye to you. I should have done this years ago after allowing you so many years to take the reins in my life. Over two years ago, my wife discovered the stash of pornography that I hid in our basement; I felt relief and yet so afraid and ashamed that she would take our family and leave me.
You promised me all along, since I was around twelve, that no one would ever know our secret. When Dad died, and Mom was in so much pain, you were the one who came through for me; you were there for me; you were my comfort and convinced me that the janitor’s stash of porn magazines in the school dumpster would help me get through the loss of the hero in my life. I believed you.
As I got older, I became more reliant and addicted to watching porn videos, and you convinced me each time that no one would ever find out. During those times, I often turned to hours of browsing the internet. I barely made it through college. I would spend hours with you leading me on, from one hit to another. You made it seem so exciting and convincing at every corner I turned and that there was more, bigger and better. I hate you for that. I hate that I gave you so much power and control. It was like you became a part of my DNA. The first thing I did in the morning was look at porn. I lived for it, and it was the last thing I did at the end of the day. You had me all wrapped up in it and around it. You had your way with me.
And I’m here to say, No More!
When I met Maggie, I started monitoring how much time I spent surfing the net. I began to feel guilty, especially after date nights with Maggie. But you were right there telling me lies: “It’s only going to help you be a better lover, know women better.” I believed your lies; you were cunning and sharper than a two-edged sword.
Before Maggie and I got married, she asked me if I ever watched porn, and with a straight face, I said no. I became you, a liar, deceiver, manipulator, and narcissist, and I hated myself for all the secrets I held from my wife. We’ve been married eighteen years, and for sixteen years, you convinced me that I was darn good at deceiving. Like that should be a badge of honor. You robbed me of time with my family. When my son wanted me to hit the ball with him, I would tell him I had to finish up a project. I saw the look of disappointment on him, and you told me he’d get over it. You convinced me that it was okay to steal money from our family budget that went into my porn addiction and chat room subscriptions.
Maggie never suspected; that’s how good I got at lying and keeping secrets from her. You taught me well. I lost so much of my childhood searching for the next high and thrill you could give me. I am so sick over my losses. In therapy, I went back to my timeline, when you first got my attention and had a grip on me and how you choked the life out of me. It was when my dad died. I realize now that the way I dealt with such a significant loss in my life was by escaping to a world of fantasy and pornography. I grieved as a grown man for my dad; I had not ever cried like that. Mom had her pain, but I realized that I had to forgive her for not being there for me, and for not getting me the help I needed as a young boy who had just lost his dad and best friend. I cried for my wife, the pain and trauma she experienced at discovery, the lies I told her, and how she innocently believed me.
You kept me from feeling. I had a hardened heart. All I could feel was shame and worthlessness.
You no longer have a hold over me; I got rid of all your devices that held me on lockdown. I always had an excuse when it came to socializing. Instead, I was much better at isolating. It was like I was held captive under your siege and my misfortune.
The work I’m doing now, between meetings, accountability, and counseling, has helped me to become familiar with you and your deceptive ways. I am getting better at saying, “No, not today.” The visual exercise I did in therapy, throwing you out as far as I could in the woods, has helped me to know I don’t need you anymore; I never wanted you like I want to be a sober minded man. I can’t take back what I’ve done to myself and others, but I’m working hard at making amends, being a better Dad, and a trustworthy man to Maggie.
So, goodbye addiction, I want nothing to do with you; everything you touch and seductively whisper to your takers is poisonous. I no longer fear you. I no longer need you or want you anywhere near me.
– Reed[1]
Are you ready to say goodbye to your addiction?
[1] Client letter, used with permission