I want to say something before I continue—certain readers, especially those of you who are younger, might do well to proceed with caution. I don’t go into explicit detail about anything, but the following subjects might not be something some people should be reading. If something said starts to make you uncomfortable, definitely stop reading if that is what you think you must do.
It was a fairly ordinary day when it started. I think I had recently turned
thirteen. I was browsing YouTube. It started out as an innocent search for
something-or-other (I no longer remember what), but the videos in the sidebar,
the ones I continued to click on, began to get considerably less innocent.
I kept going. Something was pulling at me; and while a part of me knew that my
mom would be very upset if she saw me, another part of me… wanted to keep
going. And I did.
At first, it was just YouTube clips and videos. But then it progressed to other
websites. I began actively searching
things out, sneaking onto the computer late at night when I wasn’t supposed to,
simply so I could proceed with my dealings in secret.
Well, there’s the premise. Here’s the main point of this blog post in one
I was, and still am (though to a lesser extent), a porn addict. Another
lust-based addiction developed some time after that addiction began.
Those of you who are squeamish probably want to stop reading here. As I said, I
don’t go into explicit detail, but I do go into the very basics.
I regret to inform you that this isn’t a blog article with a happy ending—not
yet. I’m still struggling, and I’m still giving in. I haven’t found healing or
That’s not what the point of this blog article is. The point is to confess,
because this has been festering inside my mind for nearly four long years.
Judge me if you will; and I’m sure some people are going to drop contact with
me. But this needs to be put out there, if only because a select few that I can
think of deserve to know the truth.
I didn’t tell anyone for two and a half years. The WiFi I used (sneaking onto
the neighbour’s) stopped working after about six months, and since the only
other internet access was in sight of others during the day, my little secret
So I had two reasons for not telling anyone—one, I had ‘stopped’ and I wouldn’t
ever do it again (or so my childish mind told me), and two… porn addiction was
a guy thing. After all, society said so, right? If only guys had this
problem, what might happen if I, a girl, were to admit I had the same problem?
I thought I must be the only girl in the world like this; something was
seriously wrong with me, it had to be!
Well… I did do it again. It started, I believe (I’m not totally certain), right
after one of my favourite singers and a friend of mine, George Donaldson,
You all heard about that somehow, I’m sure (most of you probably heard of it
from me). Call me stupid, but the death of that man broke me beyond imagining.
My entire life twisted upside-down along with my shattered heart—I became
furious with God, and basically defied Him, turned away from Him.
And, I suppose, my subconscious turned back to my poison for solace—porn.
A vicious circle was put into motion. I would spend a few days indulging in my
particular poison, and then I would sink into guilt. I would go a short while
without looking at any inappropriate images or videos… and then it would start
up all over again.
Around this time, another lust-based addiction surfaced. I hate the word, so I
won’t use it—but basically, this was an addiction to self-stimulation, because
it felt good. Yes, I know. I think it’s disgusting too, but I still do it. It’s
a fight to stop at this point.
About a month after George’s death, the guilt and pain got to the point I
started to do something I never thought I’d do—cutting.
I never went and I have not gone too deep—my knives are too dull for that. But
I have gone deep enough and drawn enough blood to leave scars. I now spend most
days, even the hot ones, wearing hoodies or long-sleeved shirts to hide my
Well, at some point—I don’t remember exactly when; the last few months are a
bit of a blur—I joined what is essentially an online dating site.
Most, if not all, of you know what roleplaying is; those actions written within
asterisks, *like so*. The things I roleplayed while on that dating site started
off small, but ended up too hideous for me to put here. The one good thing that
came from that is that the guilt and shame I felt after the last roleplay
session was so strong, I—with my mentor and my adoptive mama urging me to—left
The viewing of inappropriate content continued, though.
Anyway… I’ve stopped looking at online content. For now. The other addiction of
self-gratification continues. Am I trying to stop? Well… I’m trying to avoid
the online content altogether. The other addictions (the one I mentioned above,
as well as self-harm) will come later. One step at a time.
In case anyone is wondering, no, I haven’t turned back to God yet. I’m
confused, and still angry with Him, for various reasons. I’ve tried to go back
to Him, I really have—I just can’t yet, I guess.
So… that’s the real me. Or, rather, one aspect of me I hide behind my daily
mask. I’m an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders, people.
That’s the only way to put it. And I’m the last person most people would have
expected to turn out this way. A lot of people call me things like ‘innocent’
or ‘sweet’, or tell me they see the light of Christ in me, or that they’re
proud of me.
When I hear that, I want to scream or cry or hurt myself or something.
Because nothing is further from the truth. Nothing. Then again, it’s what I
wanted people to believe—the mask I wanted them to see as real.
Why did I write this? Because I needed to confess (I’m just now deciding to
tell my mom, for goodness’ sake), and besides that, a few people I know who
will read this—especially new friends, and old ones who have known me for a
long time—deserve to know the truth. And now they do. I’m just… well, like I said
above. Just an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders.
I won’t fault anyone if they drop contact with me, so if you feel the need to,
or your parents tell you to, then do so. I won’t get upset; I completely
understand. And those of you who decide to stay in contact… I will never
understand you people, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed that you did
decide to stay.
Until next time,