S.O.B.E.R.
The reality is that sobriety is hard. One day in treatment, we walked into a group therapy session and my counselor wrote this on the board: S.O.B.E.R. Then, he asked if any of us knew what it stood for. After a few half-ass guesses, he gave us the answer. . . .
Shame is a Killer
In light of the recent murders at Atlanta-area spas by a self-professed sex addict, a dialogue has begun in the media and elsewhere about sexual addiction. While we do want to detract from the other important conversation happening about violence towards and the sexualization/victimization of the Asian community, we wanted to pass along an excellent blog post from Marnie Feree, the Founder and Director of Bethesda Workshops. . . .
Abandon Him to Jesus
“You didn’t cause it, you can’t cure it, you can’t control it.” This is what the therapist told me when I went for a “couples weekend” at the treatment facility where my husband was spending 60 days. I had spent most of my marriage believing the opposite of this about my husband’s pornography addiction. . .
Connection is the Cure
In his excellent book on addiction, Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs, Johann Hari describes a set of scientific experiments performed in the late 1970s and 1980s that have come to be known as “Rat Park.” . . .
It Is NOT About the Sex
One of the jarring things about early recovery was how often people wanted to talk about my feelings. First of all, my wife and kids were in a different state, my employer was threatening to fire me, and I had been very publicly humiliated—how did people think I was feeling!? The only way I could describe my feelings at the time was “shitty,” but apparently that isn’t on the feelings wheel. . .
Get In A Group
When your brain is the problem, your thoughts become like a Chinese finger trap. The more you try to think your way out, the more stuck you become. There is only one way out of this conundrum: get into a group. . .
Reeling — The Aftermath of Discovery
In the aftermath of discovery I was reeling emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually. After a very public discovery, I was processing the shock of my husband's betrayal along with our friends, family, neighbors, church, and workplaces. I had packed up my babies and driven several hours away to where my family lived. That first day, I couldn’t even get down a smoothie. I felt ill and didn’t have an appetite for days. . .
Welcome to FTP
In the Bible, the Israelites lived in bondage and slavery in Egypt. Then, God showed up, turned their world upside down, and set them free. Freedom, however, did not look like what they hoped—first they had to journey into the wilderness. . . .
Where Should I Begin?
If you’re finding yourself in the wilderness, just now realizing you need to get sober or for the first time earnestly intending to get sober, then you likely feel overwhelmed. In those first few weeks, I was in a fog (and, to be honest, that fog lasted for several months). I needed others to guide me, to tell me what to do. . .
You Are Not Alone
If you are reading this, chances are you feel very alone. And probably lost, ashamed and scared. You are not alone. I don’t know your exact story, but let me share mine. When I met my husband in college, we fell hard for one another. He was the peanut butter to my jelly. We just got each other. We made one another laugh, think and dream. We shared a common faith in Jesus, a love of books and beautiful things, and a vision for a life we wanted. We were in love. . .
A Note for Partners
Over and over we hear partners combing through the memories asking what they did to cause their husband or wife to cheat on them or to turn to pornography, to ask what they could have done differently. . . .
My Path to Sex Addiction
My story began when I was eight years old, during a spend-the-night party at a friend’s house. The day began ordinarily enough, swimming at the local pool, eating pizza for dinner, and playing video games late into the night. But, after the parents went to bed, my friend wanted to show us something. . . .
It All Crashed Down
It was a Sunday afternoon. I was sitting in my living room scrolling Twitter for college sports news. Our son was playing on the floor, while my wife nursed our newborn baby in a big chair in the corner. Then my phone buzzed in my hand with a text.
Hey, you probably already know this but your name is on that list… figured you’d want to know. . . .
Getting Honest
The weeks that followed were lived in a fog. I went on a confessional apology tour, bringing in anyone I had any semblance of a close relationship over the past ten years into the fold. In retrospect, I cringe at these conversations—I must have sounded like a lunatic at the time. I was grasping for some sort of understanding, some sort of answer, some sort of solution, and what came out was all kinds of crazy stuff. . .