Thoughts on Sobriety and the Sacrament

Sobriety

The word sober doesn’t just apply to alcohol. From the thesaurus on my trusty Mac:

1 - The driver was clearly sober; not drunk, clearheaded; teetotal, abstinent, abstemious, dry; informal on the wagon. antonym drunk.
2 - A sober view of life serious, solemn, sensible, thoughtful, grave, somber, staid, levelheaded, businesslike, down-to-earth, commonsensical, pragmatic, conservative; unemotional, dispassionate, objective, matter-of-fact, no-nonsense, rational, logical, straightforward. antonym frivolous.

Therefore the words sober and sobriety apply well to abstinence from sexual (or any) addictions.


Sobriety does not necessarily equal recovery

I realized this concept one day during my weekly recovery meeting. Its converse is also true: Recovery progress does not have to include sobriety.

For example, I served a faithful two-year mission for the LDS church. I had no access to pornography, so therefore I was sober. Yet I realize now that my addiction was alive, yet dormant, the entire time. I had simply buried my problem, but like a moldering campfire it could spring up at any time. After my mission it did just that. Before my mission I made the mistake of thinking that sobriety equaled recovery – this was not true.

As a personal example of the converse statement I can point to my progress over the past four months since beginning recovery meetings. My life has improved dramatically as I have progressed spiritually and emotionally by leaps and bounds. Yet, my lengths of sobriety have not noticeably increased (until recently). Have I just been spinning my wheels for four months? I don’t believe so.

The Lord has been busy fixing my insides. He has been adjusting my habits, clearing my mind, and changing my thinking. These changes have brought peace and understanding back to my life. I can, and do, feel progress in my recovery even though I do not see long lengths of sobriety.


Some thoughts on the Sacrament

For years I thought that sobriety was everything, and without it there was no success, no progress, and no worthiness. I have refused the sacrament many, many times thinking that I had not abstained long enough to merit partaking.

Is there some magical length of time in the laws of heaven after which a sinner all of a sudden becomes worthy once again?

Of course not! I am worthy to partake of the sacrament when I am “willing to take upon [me] the name of thy Son,” when I am willing to “always remember him,” and when I am willing to “keep his commandments.” It is this willingness, this sincerity and real intent, that merits the promised reward that I “may always have the spirit to be with [me].”

How else can the sinner truly forsake his sins without the help of the spirit? The notion that only the sinless can feel the spirit is completely and ridiculously false! It is the sin-riddled that need the spirit all the more!

I now partake of the sacrament regardless of how long I have gone without giving in to my addiction. Instead, I examine my heart. I ask myself, “Today, at this moment, am I willing to give away all my sins to know the Lord?” If the answer is yes, then I partake – and I believe that I do so worthily.

Only I know if I am being honest with myself – sincerity is the core of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I testify of the goodness that has returned to my life since I have begun to partake of the sacrament in this light.

Love and Loneliness

I wonder how much of the world is lonely, but won’t admit it? Am I an anomaly because I feel so very lonely all the time? Or is my sorrow a direct result of my addiction, or, more directly, of my depression? How much of the world is lonely?

Am I alone in my loneliness?
I most often give in to temptation when I am lonely. At times I feel so sickeningly alone. It seems that there is a hole somewhere in me that cannot be filled by anything but a loving companion. I love my family and am close to them, and I have friends in school and at work, yet these relationships do not fill the emptiness in my soul. In my inner-most workings is my addiction just a cheap attempt to fill this gap?

The Greeks have four words to describe the single English word ‘love.’ Each word has a completely different meaning and, upon consideration, English speakers must concede that using a single word for them all is imprecise.

Consider the differences between the following phrases: “I love you man!” “I love my children.” “You are the love of my life.” And, “I love the Lord.” Clearly each of these instances implies a vastly different intention! The Greeks quantized it as follows:

philo – Brotherly love, as in “Phila-delphia,” the City of Brotherly Love.

storge – The natural familial affection between parents and children.

eros – Romantic love between and man and a woman. Although this love does not have to be sexual in nature, it is the root of the word ‘erotic.’ Plato, though, used the term to denote an appreciation of true inner and outer beauty.

agape – “The pure love of Christ,” or Charity. It is this word that is used in the commandment, “Love one another, as I have loved you.” Agape is the deepest and purest form of love. It is the love that God has for us and it is the love that we must nurture for him and for all mankind.

I believe that each of these loves has a place in a man’s heart. I feel brotherly love towards my friends and acquaintances, deep familial love for my family, and more and more I feel a sincere love for God and all of his children. What I do not have is eros – I lack a pure and delightful love for a woman. I must concede that my addiction to pornography is likely a misguided attempt to meet this need.

Yet this hypothesis brings up a daunting paradox: If my current addiction is in some ways an attempt to compensate for lack of a real relationship, how can I overcome it without a relationship to take its place? Can I expect a woman to fall in love with me in the current state I’m in? Does it have to be either or? Or can I fall in love with a real woman at the same time as my addiction to fantasy women is carried away? Is it fair to expect this of a woman?

I have often heard from ecclesiastical leaders and from other men in recovery meetings that marriage does not cure this addiction. If not properly overcome by faith and trust in the Savior, the moldering coals of false desire will fire up again.

At this time I don’t understand, but I have to force myself to believe.
Part of me thinks that if I fall in love with a woman and get married, my addiction will go away. The hole in my heart will be filled. But the logical and reasonable part of me concedes that this problem is much more involved than simply a longing for female companionship.

To actually recover I must be healed – not just filled. The flaws in my thinking, the habits of my mind, and the ridiculous expectations and desires I have for women must be changed.

I’m slowly learning that this addiction is so very much more than loneliness, no matter how poignant that state of mind may be. The Lord is teaching me how to come to him. As I relearn the gospel step by step (this time in my heart) it is all I can do to appeal to his grace to take the loneliness and the sadness from my heart.

It is by faith that he gives me hope to assuage my pains.
It is my faith that someday I will have the most sincere desire of heart – the desire to love and be loved.

All I Can Do

“For we labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.”

2 Ne. 25: 23

In my desire to understand grace I have often been puzzled by this phrase from the Book of Mormon. “…after all we can do.” The phrase didn’t seem to fit what I felt in my heart – I felt that it was only by grace that I could be completely saved. I thought the scripture should say, “…for we know that it is by grace that we are saved.” With a period at the end. I was uncomfortable with the metaphor, “We climb as far out of the hole as we can, and then the Lord will pull us up the last bit.” This notion didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the Gospel, which emphasizes faith, forgiveness, and mercy.

I understood the necessity of correct ordinances performed with authority from God (Baptism, the Gift of the Holy Ghost, etc.). I understood that “...faith without works is dead...” and that any true follower of Christ will live a life in conformity with his commandments. I understood that repentance has to be real and has to result in a change of heart and a change of lifestyle. My confusion wasn’t with the grace/works debate – it was with the order.

I can see true believers around me who live good lives – lives without hypocrisy. But how did they get that way? Did they walk the walk long enough that they began to actually fit in? Will Christ change me if I try hard enough for long enough? Or is there some sort of way to receive his grace and then live in obedience? Which comes first: Obedience, or grace?

My answer came one night as I prayed on my bed in my little apartment here in Provo, Utah. Like Nephi, my eyes watered my pillow as I finally and painfully laid my heart out before God. My sincerity was surprising, and my honesty was devastating. I had run out of ideas. I had run out of little methods or plans or tricks to overcome my addiction. For the first time in my life I did not know what to do. For 10 years I had tried and tried dozens – hundreds! – of little methods to help myself. None of them had worked. And here I was – out of ideas.

I could do nothing!

This revelation shocked me like I have never felt before – I cried out of pure helplessness, like a child unable to care for itself. This was the end.

My mustard-seed of faith sprouted one final, novel, brilliant!, yet wholly unconsidered path. The idea that came so clearly into my mind at that moment of despair was that I really could do nothing. All I could do was rely on the Lord. Then, like Joseph and Oliver at the time of their baptism, my eyes of understanding were opened and the scriptures were laid before me,

“…for [I] know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do.”

All I can do is trust in the Lord.

Recovery Meetings

I have been attending LDS Addiction Recovery meetings since July of this year. I’ve known about the meetings for a long time. They’re based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous but have been adapted to serve as a general addiction recovery program focusing on the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I used to run into people on my mission who swore by Alcoholics Anonymous, saying it had changed their lives. I owned a copy of the manual, but had never read it, and my dad had been encouraging me to attend for a few months.

I didn’t want to go – I was humiliated and prideful (at the same time no less!). The idea of sitting down with complete strangers and spilling my darkest secrets seemed ridiculous. “They’ll probably all be weird people who really need help – I’ll be able to manage without a little self-confidence group.”

It took me a long time to come to the conclusion that I needed more help than I was currently receiving. Strangely, this realization post-dated my first recovery meeting. Attendance was not my idea of a good time! While speaking to my doctor about my clinical depression I was bluntly ordered to attend. In a moment of weakness I conceded. He made me promise to report to him at our next appointment. Ugh.

I found out what time a sexual addiction recovery group met and faithfully arrived about 20 minutes early for my first meeting. I was the first one there. Ugh. I felt like crawling into a corner. I sat there for an awkward 15 minutes or so until other men started to arrive. Surprise of all surprises – these were not weird people! In fact, these guys seemed just like me. Or rather – there were so many different types of men in attendance that I did not feel so strange after all! There were older and younger men, single and married, obvious professionals, and guys like me who seemed to be taking life pretty hard. I didn’t stick out.

It is a paradox that I felt more at home with a collage of people than with those who were just like me. It reminded me that I was not really that different from everyone else.

Funny enough – the meeting was strangely stereotypical. When a person introduced himself, “Hello, my name is Jerry,” everyone replied, “Hello Jerry.” Then Jerry admitted, “I am addicted to pornography and lust. I’m currently working on step three and I have three days of sobriety.” Everyone then clapped! How strange. It was just like the movies.

But as the meeting progressed my desire to crawl into a corner diminished. I began to notice a calm come over me. I began to feel the spirit quite strongly. I started to relax. I felt at peace. When the meeting was over I darted out the door as quickly as possible – but I did not quickly forget the peace that I had felt.

Despite the humiliation I had been spiritually fed by my first recovery meeting.

The second week I attended I still felt humiliated and slightly amused by the oddness of it all – but I didn’t want to implode as badly as I did the week before. The third week was not so bad, and again the fourth.

Slowly I have come to learn that recovery meetings are exactly what I need. For one hour I can take off my mask of happiness and perfection, I can relax, and I can be completely honest with those around me.

The people there don't judge me because we understand one another. We know what everyone else is going through because we have been there. We know the pain, we know the loneliness and the sorrow and we are relieved to be at peace for just one hour.

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Recovery meetings are a glimpse of Zion. To me, they are what sacrament meetings are supposed to be – a group of sinners gathered together to support one another and to feel at home – at peace. In Zion we will not judge one another because we will all have gone through Babylon to get there. We will understand one another. We will see eye to eye.

Now, in my periods of sadness and despair, when I cry in prayer, “Father, I’m having a hard time,” I can look forward to the next recovery meeting. I can look forward to the whisperings of the spirit calming my troubled soul and teaching me line upon line how to change. I can look forward to the peace of the Savior and the hope of the Gospel that I feel as I gather with my fellow sinners.

I can’t imagine recovery without these meetings.

The Beginning

I suppose different people have different reasons for becoming addicted to pornography. I’ll speak for myself – I believe I took an interest out of curiosity. At thirteen years old, what boy isn’t curious about sex? Combining naivety about sex with the natural impulses of a young man, I fell headlong into my current problem. I imagine many young boys run across pornography -it's nearly impossible to imagine that a boy could escape it nowadays! But the difference between me and all the rest of the young men who don't develop a serious problem is that I started to lie to myself. As my addiction worsened - so did my secrets and my lies. I began to life a false life.

At first I didn't see any adverse effects from my pornography use. But as I grew older I slowly began to realize that little by little, my sins were wearing me down. My joy was being numbed. Any hope or faith I once had was waning quickly. I was on autopilot through life.

When it came time to serve a mission for the LDS church, I understood the necessity of becoming morally clean. I had an honest desire to serve a mission – my testimony had been growing and I had just read the whole Book of Mormon for the first time. I had enough faith in the Lord to see the blessings that I would receive by serving a mission, and I had a sincere desire to teach the Gospel. So, I did what I imagine many pre-missionaries do – I white-knuckled my way to purity.

Was this purity real? Of course it was! I felt real forgiveness of my sins. I was completely cleansed by the Atonement of Jesus Christ! This experience served as the foundation of my faith in Christ throughout my entire mission! I knew that the Lord forgave sins. I taught this. I served with purpose, with pure desire, with sincerity, and faith. I saw the blessings of the Lord in my life more clearly than I have ever seen them – before or after. I had no doubt then, and I have no doubt now, that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints possesses the true and unadulterated Gospel of Jesus Christ.

While I had received a remission of my sins and abstained from pornography, the underlying problems that led to my sins still existed. Lurking under the surface, I was still addicted to pornography and lust.

Returning home from my mission was the most difficult event of my life thus far. The addiction that had lain dormant for so long came roaring back to life. I was tossed to and fro like a ship without a rudder. I felt like the worst person in the world. I felt alone – like no one else could understand or accept the real me. My life became a lie. I wore one mask for the world to see, and another when I looked myself in the mirror. After a few months I slipped into clinical depression.

In my depression I finally began my road to recovery.

I confided in my parents.

Their reaction was the most wonderful surprise of my life. They had compassion. They did not judge me. They reminded me of my goodness and told me that I was simply a good person with a problem. In a flash my spiritual paradigm changed completely. All of a sudden I was just another human being living in a fallen world.  I had never considered with such depth the effects of the world on all people. No longer the most wicked wretch in the church, the Lord began to fix my thinking.

I slowly began to see my pornography addiction as more than just sin – I realized that it is a mindset. You might go so far as to call it a lifestyle. I am addicted to lust – to looking at women with lustful thoughts. I am addicted to escaping my problems to a place where I feel good – even for just a short time. I'm addicted to lying to myself – to presenting a false person to the world. I'm addicted to rationalizing away my life – my joy -  only to live in regret and shame. As I opened up to the truth of my addiction, the Lord could finally begin the recovery process.

A few months ago, at the urging of my father, I began to attend the LDS Church Addiction Recovery Program. I now regularly attend the pornography addiction recovery meetings. In these meetings I feel like I'm at home.

This is the history of my addiction. It is long – about 10 years – and likely my recovery will be long. I'm going to tell you of my recovery in the coming months and years – I'll write of finding the Savior. And I'll write as I experience it.

I believe that if I am humble and honest then the Lord will save me from this fallen world.

Why a Blog?

In LDS culture, but also in the general culture of the United States, a sexual addiction is seen as something very different from a substance addiction.

If you hear someone mention in church that they’re a recovering alcoholic – you’ll applaud them, congratulate them – you’ll be proud of them for taking steps to be sober. If you hear someone speak of how they once were addicted to tobacco, you wouldn’t really think anything of it, except to be proud that they could overcome the addiction.

But if someone you meet tells you they have a sexual addiction, how would you react?

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The purpose of this blog is to record my recovery story. I’m putting it on the Internet step by step, as I go, so that you can get a sense of what recovery is like.

Perhaps you have an addiction you want to be free of, perhaps someone you know, or love, has an addiction. Perhaps you’re a good person who wants to understand this problem more so that you can be more compassionate and supportive.

Whatever your reason for reading this, I hope you’ll take away a few things:

            Greater compassion
            Increased understanding
            Greater faith in Jesus Christ
            A deeper understanding of grace
            Ways to be supportive of addicts
            Where to go if you need help
            An insight into a real person’s recovery

This blog is real time – I am not free of my addiction – but I have hope and faith in the Lord that he can “make weak things become strong.” I am writing this anonymously, but hope to someday let you know who I am. I hope that someday people will not be so afraid to admit that they have a sexual addiction. I hope that someday people will have more compassion and less judgement.

It is because of hope that I am telling my story.

I hope that I can help you find compassion

and faith.

Me

I am a single, LDS man in my twenties attending Brigham Young University. I served a faithful two-year mission and was raised in a good LDS home.

I am a recovering pornography addict.

This is my story of recovery, step by step.