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. . .
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. . . .
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. . .
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. . .