Jesus wasn’t outside picketing…
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My healing from pornography addiction began when I stopped trying…
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“I…struggle with looking at pornography,” or something to that effect, because I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I remember how I felt. The thing I thought I would never-tell-anyone-ever I had just confessed to a few girls. This was IT: NOW I could have accountability, NOW I could heal. But a week later I found myself engaging once again with the very thing I wanted to escape from…
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They say it’s a male struggle — from the pulpits, on the pages, in the accountability software —forcing women who struggle with pornography to conclude that we’re anomalies, cloaking us in silent shame. The first time I heard that women can *also* struggle with pornography I was a freshman in college. I struggled for six years, the bulk of my adolescence, before learning I wasn’t the only one…
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I was addicted to pornography for fifteen years…
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Tomorrow I’m going to talk to the internet about things I thought I would never talk about, struggles I never imagined to utter…
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I used to do a balloon exercise after sinning: I would imagine my sin in all of its weight, shame, and vile, releasing from me like a balloon floating away. I felt ok until the next time (I was struggling with addiction, after all), and then I inevitably felt like I was once again connected to a balloon, but instead of helium – lead, and instead of a curly-q ribbon – chains.
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Hello- How are you doing in these days?
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God is the Giver of dreams, not the killer —
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There is nothing too deep, too dark, too secretive that you don’t deserve to experience healing and freedom…
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I'm interrupting our regularly scheduled programming of addiction, shame, and freedom to talk about love, hate, and peace-cookies.
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It was green, and not that comfortable.
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I owed it to my 7-year-old, dreamy-eyed-self to start this writing website…
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Justice, a person, came to us in peace with a beating heart & pulsing, healing hands. He created a Kingdom – a new, better way. He hugged the outcasts, liberated the captives, & began restoring the broken…
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We’re resurrection people, we’re life people. United to Jesus, & thus united to one another – sons and daughters as brothers and sisters. Interconnected by our new DNA & the breath in our lungs that sings His praise. He didn’t create this big, wide, colorful family so we can sing Kumbaya behind fake smiles.
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I guess I’m not really sure what I can add to this conversation as a white woman. I don’t want to be accused of not listening, by sharing, but I think there are more that share my story than realized, or maybe than want to vocalize.
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Alternate Title: Merry Waiting and A Happy Not-So-New-Year
*Disclaimer: This post doesn’t end with me saying God will show up.
Ryan and I met eight years ago today. I’ll never stop telling this story as long as we live, because when you’ve lived out redemption and miracles, you can’t shut up about it.
Read MoreNot worthy of #metoo; #toomuch to deal with.
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It’s not fair to have an abuse anniversary…
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