I thought I just had a sex problem. 

If I could stop acting out sexually, then my life would be completely healed!

I remember when I was a young boy trying to navigate sexual arousal, masturbation, and orgasm; at times, feeling overwhelmed by emotion.

My first thoughts about my sexuality were not, This is a wonderful part of how God made my body—what an amazing gift! 

It was more like, Holy #@%$! This stuff is powerful! I’ve never felt this way before. Surely this must be wrong because no one is talking about it.

It was the silence that led me to believe that my body and sexuality were innately evil. In this silence came the guilt and shame and curiosity of exploring porn.  

In my home and faith community, sex had more of a negative overture than positive; mainly due to silence or as part of the big sins that were talked about at church: sex, drugs, alcohol, and rock ’n’ roll. 

Sexuality wasn’t seen as something to be grateful for, nor was I given any instructions on how to manage it. I often tried to not think about my sexuality and just hoped, by avoiding it all together, the problem would go away. 

I remember a friend in high school saying to me, “I want God just to remove my sex drive, and then give it back when I get married.” At the time, this sounded good to me as well.

After years of confession, prayer, and Bible reading, I realized that my problem wasn’t getting better. In fact, it was getting worse—it was escalating! 

In March of 1997, I went to see a STAT (Sexual Trauma Assessment Treatment) therapist. I was in my late 20s. It was one of the most helpful steps toward my healing, although it seemed very difficult and scary at the same time.

I went to see him on a Tuesday hoping to be all fixed by Friday so I would feel better by Sunday! 

Can anyone relate? 

I wanted a quick fix! 

I wanted my problem to stop right away. I wanted an instant makeover! 

Again, I was only thinking that my problem was a sexual one.

While I thought the process would only take a few days, maybe weeks, my therapist helped me see the need to be fully committed to my recovery and that healing happens more over time than instantly. 

I was determined to do whatever it took to find healing, even allowing someone else to guide me!

It was this three year journey with my therapist, seeing him twice a month, that gave me a new perspective. 

Some of the beginning conversations my therapist had with me were about my emotional immaturity and view of spirituality. He even used a profane word to describe the condition that my addiction had brought me to.

This got my attention for sure!

At the time, I honestly thought I was emotionally and spiritually mature. I thought maturity was about never letting my anger get out of control or, better yet, never letting myself feel angry at all. 

These feelings were suppressed and seen as unspiritual—along with insecurity, doubt, fear, and a long list of uncomfortable emotions that were very difficult for me to process.

What I learned throughout my recovery was that many of these emotions I tried to avoid were tied to the painful events or trauma I experienced growing up.

Embarrassment over my poor reading skills in grade school, being shamed over things I was never educated about, or being betrayed by a friend.

Even some of my religious life was difficult to understand: afraid of the rapture and being left behind, or thinking that God was always disappointed in me because of my mistakes.

I didn’t learn how to allow myself to feel what I was feeling and then express these feelings in healthy ways. Instead, sexuality (porn, masturbation, etc.) became a way to cope with challenging experiences and my uncomfortable emotions. 

My therapist helped me see how I was not processing my emotions well and that my mismanagement of my sexuality was tied to my emotional health. He taught me that being honest about my emotions was a part of being spiritually healthy. This became a game changer for me, then and even still today.

The old adage is true: “YOU GOTTA FEEL TO HEAL.”

I’m 26 years into my recovery journey and I believe this more than ever. 

Spiritual maturity is being honest about your feelings and experiences, and processing them in a healthy way. It’s seeing your sexuality as a wonderful gift from God and managing it in a way that is beneficial and life giving. 

I know this is why I continue my recovery work to this day. Recovery isn’t a destination but a direction we should walk until our last day. 

The tools I use—such as the FASTER Scale, goal setting, meditation, and Commitment to Change—all allow me to maintain self-awareness. My family, friends, and recovery group continue to be safe places to share my experiences and process my emotions.

I wish I could say I am a 55 year old man who doesn’t suffer from insecurity, or fear, or grief, or depression, or anger, but this is not the case. I have learned to embrace these feelings and process them in healthy ways so they don’t become paralyzing to me.

The other day, my son, Keaton, said to me, “Dad, I think feeling your uncomfortable emotions and processing them is a real sign of your strength, not weakness.” It’s taken some time for me to believe it, but I think my son is right.

I am much older now and I’m so glad that young Rodney fully committed to his recovery journey. I now realize his problem was more than just sexuality and more about emotional and spiritual immaturity.

Whether you’re decades into your recovery journey or just months into it, fully commit to being a healthy person and seeing your spirituality as more than just fixing a sexual problem but being emotionally mature and healthy.

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