Quiet desperation

On the hotel: One possible path, if you can have such a conversation without having it degenerate into anger and recriminations, might be to say that you prefer not to go away for a few days, but to try to continue to communicate, but that if she would prefer to have a few days alone, you're prepared to give her that space. Of course, you know the situation and I do not, and there are many other possible paths.

On the counselor: It sounds like a lot of people are on the same page about the desirability of that course. It might also be highly useful to get someone else involved in the conversation between your wife and yourself, and in the conversation between both of you and your son.

Who should that counselor be? That's a personal decision. I've worked with men and with women, with people who were and were not Christians. On issues like sex addiction, some people are more comfortable working with a counselor of the same gender; for whatever reason, I don't strongly feel that way. My current counselor is not a Christian, but one of the questions I asked him when we started working together was whether he was comfortable working with my problems within my own religious self-understanding. His response was that he was only comfortable working with me if I could see my problems within some spiritual framework. For me, that was enough.

When I first started looking for a counselor, I was already attending 12-step meetings. My sponsor, himself an addiction counselor by profession, insisted that I talk to at least 3 counselors before making a decision. That way, I'd get a sense of what sort of people and approaches were out there, and I'd be starting to work with someone already having some level of buy-in with that person.

Calling and talking with folks on the phone was an interesting exercise. First of all, it was way outside my comfort zone. But also, I found I could actually learn useful things about prospective therapists from a 10-15 minute phone call. One of the people I talked to I felt like I could eliminate right away. The other two were one person who seemed willing to work with me on the basis of my self-description as a sex addict, and another who saw behavioral addictions as basically one form of OCD. The first of those two people felt sort of emotionally cold to me, not someone I hit it off with immediately; the second person, I felt a lot of rapport with.

So who to go with, the guy I don't really relate to who sees me as an addict, or the guy I connect with who sees my problem as OCD? In the end, I did some reading about OCD, and decided that I just couldn't see those symptoms as applying to me; so I went with the guy who saw me the way I saw myself. We're still working together after 6-7 years.

The point is that shopping for mental health professionals is a lot like shopping for anything else. If you have friends you can get recommendations from, do that. Otherwise, get on the phone, explain why you're looking for a counselor, ask what experience they have with people like you and how they will work with you, make a choice, and know that if you're not hitting it off in a few weeks, you can always switch to somebody else. It's a very personal relationship, and you may not end up marrying the first person you date.

You can do this. Lots of people do. It's really important.

As long as I'm on my soapbox and on a roll, let me come back to an earlier discussion you and I had, about sin vs disease.

I think we often view our situation far too much in terms of sin: I'm sinning, and therefore I'm a terrible person, and it's all my fault, and I need to feel deep shame, and I have to hide from other people and fix my problem on my own by getting stronger. Of course the sorts of things that you and I have done sexually are sins, but I think everything else in that sentence is not only wrong, but is part of the pattern that leaves us locked in addiction.

Addiction, after all, works like this: I act out, which causes me huge shame and self-loathing, all kinds of feelings I don't want to feel. So I hide from my feelings in fear and in pain, and I hide from other people, and I hide from God. In that howling emptiness, I look for some way to take away the pain, to take me away from the feelings I fear. Well, there's the old, reliable comfort of my addictive behavior. So I act out again for relief, which causes more shame and more isolation, and the cycle continues.

If that's right, then focusing on the shame is exactly what I don't want to do. I have to find a way to see myself both honestly and gently - and in my mind, the two have to go together - and to let go of the shame. For me, focusing on the mental illness aspect of our condition rather than seeing it purely as sin is part of that process.

Our actions, like those of a heroin addict who destroys his body, ignores his responsibilities, and steels from others, are sinful. Like him, we're responsible for how our actions affect others.

But like him, we're also addicts. We're struggling desperately to stop doing what we're doing, and we don't know how. In some ways, the real sin took place a long time ago when we got hooked. And even then, we were scared, we were running from something, we were doing the best we could, even if it wasn't very good. If I'm trying my hardest to get free but I don't have the right tools to do that, do I really need to respond to myself with hatred every time I fail? Whom does that help?

Of course what we're doing is wrong. It hurts other people, a lot. It also hurts us, a lot. Are there ways we can be gentle with and forgiving of ourselves as we work to move away from behavior that isn't working for us or for anybody?

I guess the bottom line for me is that however much I thought of my obsession with porn as a sin, I couldn't find ways to give it up. It wasn't until I began saying, "You know, it's also a psychological condition, and maybe I need help to find out what's really going on inside me in order that I my stop doing something I really don't want to do," that things began to get better.

Just my own experience, of course.

Do be well. Thank you for honoring us with your honesty.

Tim M.

Tim,

Thank you for your kind and thoughtful response. I appreciate it very much that you would take so much time to share your experience and insight.

I spent the night on the couch, and as you would expect, it didn't involve a lot of sleep. I came to the conclusion before going to bed last night that checking out and going to a hotel on my own initiative would probably be unwise – it might just unnecessarily cause my wife extra pain and put a further gulf between us. She will be at work today until about 3pm; when she gets home, I plan to apologise for the way I treated her and our son yesterday, and for how hard I've made it for her to be around me lately. I'm going to tell her that being away from her is the last thing I want, but that if she feels she needs some space then I'll give that to her.

I don't want to have to move out, even for a couple of days; but on the other hand, I don't want things to carry on as they are. So I need to find some way of breaking out of the place I'm/we're currently in that allows us to continue to work together.

So, I'm also going to tell her that I'm going to try to find a counsellor. I will do like you said, and call up two or three people. I have found about seven or eight Christian counsellors in my area, only one of whom is a man. Plenty of non-Christians, of course. I think I'll start by calling the Christian guy and maybe one of the Christian ladies, and perhaps try one of the non-Christian ones too.

The sad thing is that, assuming I go to a counsellor, I feel that I/we will have to keep this secret from our church friends, at least for the time being. Our church is full of great people, but the culture is not one that sees a place for therapy, except for very sick people. Of course, I am a very broken person, like most of us are; but generally I don't think our church recognises how broken we all are in this broken world. Maybe I will one day get to a place where I'll be able to share my journey openly, without fear of being misunderstood or misrepresented. But for the time being, we'll have to keep it between us. It's a pity that's the way it is, but that's the way it is.

You're right that I wrestle with the sin versus disease thing. The thing is, I guess I've seen both extremes and not much in the middle. What I mean is, in my experience people generally fall into two camps on this: there are those who see sexually compulsive behaviour purely as sin, and see any suggestion of calling it anything else as an attempt to remove personal responsibility from the sinner; and there are those who see it purely as an addiction/disease. In my mind, there is a very real danger in this latter view of removing personal responsibility and seeing oneself purely as a victim of a disease. I know, from the inside, that the reality is more complex than either of these extremes: there is a large element of sinfulness, and there is a large and very real element of powerlessness in the face of addictive behaviour. And in some ways, of course, sin itself is like a self-perpetuating disease: it wounds us and then feeds on the wounds it has caused, pulling us deeper into a cycle of self-inflicted pain that spills over onto those we love. What I need is to find someone who sees and understands both of these angles, so that personal responsibility is not diminished, but at the same time, the crushing power of this addiction is acknowledged.

I will have to think carefully about what questions I want to put to any prospective counsellor. But I think the main ones will be these:

(1) (If a woman) Do you have a problem working with a man on issues related to sex?

(2) (If a non-Christian) Do you have a problem working within the framework of my spiritual understanding?

(3) What experience do you have in working with people with compulsive sexual behaviours?

(4) How do you see compulsive sexual behaviours, in terms of addiction, disease, sin, etc.?

Hopefully the answers to those questions will give me a lot to go on. Also, it seems that many of the counsellors offer an initial 50-minute consultation free of charge, with the aim of both counsellor and patient (if that's the right word) finding out whether they think they can work together. That sounds helpful.

As well as my sexually compulsive behaviours, the other angle I need to explore with any counsellor is the "midlife crisis"/depression aspect. I'm not having a midlife crisis in the sense of wanting to buy a sports car, have an affair, etc. But I certainly am struggling with an overwhelming sense of failure, regret, wasted time, etc. I'm sure this is in some way intricately linked with the sexual side of things, but I think it's also to do with my age (41) and the fact that I feel that one major season of life has ended and this has left me floundering somewhat.

As an aside, it seems that most counsellors charge around £30 per one-hour consultation (about $47). How does this compare with rates in the US?

At the risk of this turning into an epic, there are two other things I'd like to ask you about:

(i) One of the things I wrestle with in my head is that I get the feeling that my wife thinks I am the problem in our marriage, and that if I could just sort myself out, everything would be fine. Now, I know that I am a big problem in our marriage, but I also know that there are ways in which we are dysfunctional as a couple and that I alone cannot do anything about – they will require her to see things differently and to be willing to change too. In particular, I don't see our sexual/intimate life together ever being anything other than frustrating and difficult for me and unsatisfying for her, unless she can come to a place of seeing that we both need to change. Of course, it's easy for me to use that as an excuse and to see her as the main problem; I know that's not really true. But at the same time, it's easy for her to blame all our problems on my issues and hang-ups. The reality is more complex and involves both of us. You said that it would probably be beneficial to find someone to help us both in our marriage, and I agree with you, without question. But if I were to suggest that to my wife right now, I'm pretty sure she'd dismiss it as unnecessary and just say that I need to sort myself out.

The only conclusion I can come to on this is that at this point, the only person I can change is me. If I can work to be a better me, perhaps she will begin to see that there are areas in which we both need to work towards change. Does this make sense, and do you think I'm seeing this the right way?

(ii) I may have mentioned before at some point that I'm very involved in the worship side of things in our church. I'm one of the worship leaders in our congregation, and also have overall responsibility for developing musicians across our church's two congregations. (In practice, this means that, among other things, I plan and lead weekly rehearsals.) Part of me really enjoys this, as it keeps me plugged into church, keeps me doing something musically, etc. But part of me doesn't want the added pressure and would like to step out, at least for a season. Part of it is that when I'm going through a bad patch, I can feel such a phoney because everyone at church thinks I'm such a great guy and have it all together, whereas I know that's far from true. In that sense, it would be easier to step down from my worship team responsibilities. However, there are two major downsides I see to stepping down: (1) I fear that my wife would see it as just giving into self-pity, and therefore as a very negative thing; and (2) I would have to give some explanation to my pastor and others in the church, because it would be very obvious that there must be a Bad Thing going on if I had to stop leading worship. And I really don't want at this point to start letting everyone in on what's going on (my pastor already knows about my past problems with porn, but that's about it). I'm not asking you tell me what I should do here; but do you understand my predicament, and do you have any advice?

Tim (and anyone else), thank you so much for listening and for helping me by sharing your insight. It really is more valuable than you may ever know.

L2L

Learningtolive:

Of course there might be exceptions, but I would guess it might be for most men best to work with another man?

l2l,

Thanks for the continuing thoughtful conversation!

I understand the desire to be discreet about seeing a counselor. Initially, I felt a lot of shame at that need. More recently, I've been a lot more open. I don't announce in public that I'm seeing a counselor for sex addiction or anything of that sort, but I also don't hide that I'm working on some long-term emotional issues with professional help. My feeling is that there are a lot of people who might benefit from talking with a counselor and who are deterred by a sense of shame. Anything I can do to normalize the idea of seeing a psychologist and make it more like seeing a physician is a good thing. So if a student wants to meet me at a time when I have a counseling session scheduled, I don't make vague claims of another commitment, but just say that I have a counseling appointment across town, and can we meet an hour later? My hope is that by modeling the idea that it isn't a big deal, I may help it to become not a big deal, and I may make it more possible for that student or her friend to look for support when they need it.

That's just my situation and my local culture, though. I thoroughly respect anyone else's judgment that this is not a possible way for them to behave.

I like your list of questions. Other questions I asked included what it cost and whether they took my insurance. I also was encouraged to ask whet their general approach was. I'm not sure how helpful this was - I don't know enough to distinguish an eclectic CBT practitioner from a Freudian Plaid Cymru member, but it might give them something to talk about and might let one assess how flexible they are, which is probably a good thing.

I pay $125 for 50 minutes, which is typical in my area for counselors with doctoral degrees. Someone with a Master's costs less. Prices are higher on the coasts. My insurance covers 80% after I meet some deductible amount. So your price seems very economical, but the differences between the health care systems in our 2 countries are so great that it's hard to make a meaningful comparison.

On your last questions,

(i) I agree that we can only change ourselves, and that we ourselves have done so much that no attempt to suggest working on other issues is going to be well received. Working on ourselves is enough. Of course, some of that working on ourselves involves learning to communicate emotionally with other people, opening up to our wives, etc. Consequences of that may include becoming able to address some of the other issues you mention. Perhaps as your wife sees you working hard on yourself, staying sober, becoming honest, taking responsibility, learning to feel and express emotions, she'll become open to the idea of working together to collectively meet the common goal of communicating better. That would be great, but it sounds like it's not going to happen now, and it may not happen ever.

(ii) My situation is a little different. First, the Orthodox Church has confession like the Catholics, and that confession happens with the priest and the penitent standing together facing an icon. My issues with porn were therefore not a secret to my priest. I sing in the choir, but don't lead it. I taught church school, but not, in my estimation, very effectively. In part this was because I was alienated from God, not really trusting Him, trying to manage my own life, hiding. I had a developed intellectual belief, but no real trust and faith, though I didn't know that.

When I started attending SAA/SLAA meetings, I felt like I needed to ask the question of whether I should continue to teach church school. On one level, there was no reason why not. I don't have a problem with children. I'm not a paedophile. The trouble was that I found myself wondering what would happen if I were to be seen leaving an SAA meeting by somebody in the parish. "We've got a Sunday school teacher who's a sex addict" is the sort of message that could spread pretty fast. It would naturally terrify parents, and nothing I could say would restore confidence. The fact that the priest knew this might have come out, endangering his ministry. Who knew what might get said to and about my family?

Now, the likelihood of this happening was very small. To some degree, I was being paranoid. My priest was perfectly willing to have me continue to teach. After all, there were always 2 adults in the rooms, and the doors were glass. But the downside of my becoming an issue was so great that I felt I needed to step down. The school year was coming to a close anyway, and I could just say I had taught for long enough. In some ways that hurt. Just at the point I felt I was developing a real faith and an ability to connect with other people so that I might become an effective teacher, I needed to quit.

So that's how I worked with a related problem, but it may have little connection to yours.

Just a comment on your situation, though: ceasing to lead worship doesn't mean you're a sex addict. It could mean that you're busy at work, that you need to devote time to your son or your family, that you've done it long enough and want to give others a chance, or any of a dozen other things. I don't advocate lying, but it's always possible to state a reason that isn't the only reason. If you need to lighten your plate in order to have time and emotional energy for the very hard project of working on recovery, then finding a polite way to take a break seems pretty desirable.

Stepping down because you feel unworthy? I don't know. Is that something you and your pastor can explore? Part of the Christian message is that none of us are worthy, and that God loves all of us. As I said in another post earlier in this thread, I never really understood God and faith until I could walk into church and ask, "What is this service saying to me, a sex addict wholly dependent upon God for my sobriety. and therefore for my life?" That's the point at which my own heart was what the heart of someone standing before God should be, IMHO.

Finally, I like the both/and attitude to sin and disease. I had a heart attack when I was 10 years older than you despite no family history of heart disease, being a runner, eating well, etc. So that's a disease, right? But you know, I also spent a lifetime as a porn addict, hiding from others, feeling shame and stress, divided against myself. I spent a lifetime filling my heart with crud metaphorically. Should I be surprised if it's filled with crud physically? I'm not. So maybe that disease is a consequence of sin? And yet, the sin came from a scared kid without good family models for effectively working with emotions. Do we blame that child? It's all pretty complicated.

Even in purely secular addiction recovery circles, though, the model of disease and recovery doesn't remove responsibility for our actions. If I kill someone in an auto accident, being drunk because I'm an alcoholic doesn't mean I go free. Saying, "Yes, I stole those drugs, but I needed them because I'm an addict" doesn't spare me from prison. In the 12-step program, we're asked to identify the people we have harmed, and to make amends to them. Disease or not, we have to own our own actions.

The reasoning behind Steps 8 and 9 is interesting, though. We're not just saying, "I'm sorry" and asking for forgiveness. We're also not righting wrongs just to make the world a better place. What we're doing is finding actions that are weighing on us, wrongs that we cannot undo, things that make us shrink down in shame, things that make us use, and we're trying to end the paralyzing shame so we can be sober. I can't undo stealing money from you, but I can pay the money back. At that point, you may or may not forgive me. That's your business, not mine. But at that point, I can say that I've now done everything I can to correct my mistake, and I can let it go. I don't have to stay in agonized, unresolved shame because of it. I don't have to hide from others and from myself. I've produced one more thing that is no longer a reason to use. I'm a step closer to freedom.

So I can think my addiction is a disease and still feel that it's imperative for me to make amends for my wrong actions. If I'm a Christian, I can extend that to repenting of my sins. But once I've done that, once I've really fixed everything I can and turned it all over to God, I need to let it go. If I give it to Christ, I can't take it back. It's not mine.

Again, that doesn't mean everyone else will forgive me, or that they should. But it may mean I don't need to use because of that particular shameful sin.

As always, just how it seems to me. Apologies for a very long and rambling discourse.

Tim M.

You're welcome, of course. Telling my story to others helps me, as well.

On the cost: When we think about what we spend either in money or in time on our addiction, recovery can look pretty cheap.

On what people know: I've talked with colleagues about kids, and have been amazed to learn that they think of me as a perfect parent, while they themselves really struggle. I've thought just the reverse. There's a lot more in all our lives than appears on the surface. That means there's a lot more understanding and support - not from everyone, but from many - than we imagine. Discovering a friend is human and is suffering and struggling can be a way of forming closer and fonder connections.

Having it known that there is some generic source of family difficulty might also be the cover you need to step back from some activities. I've told a lot of people something like, "I'm working on some long-term emotional issues, trying to figure out my own feelings," and I've never had anyone zoom in and start asking pointed questions about details. I think people feel honored that I've shared that much, and we all have places we don't want to open to the world. Folks respect that.

Sometimes, especially when talking with students who struggle with these things, I'll talk directly about the problems in my life caused by perfectionism, by running from my feelings, by struggling to feel worthy, by procrastination, etc. All those things are very much a part of the complex of feelings and struggles that includes my addictive behavior, but I don't need to say that, and I don't. (Well, I did once with s student who had really shared very deep parts of herself with me, who lived with my family when she was having some mental health issues, who was baptized with me as her godfather, and whom I think of as my daughter; but that was a very special situation I do not expect ever to be repeated.)

Tim M.

Tim,

I have another question for you - this time a shorter one

I'm wondering whether you have any handle on the various different types of counselling approaches that seem to be available out there. Descriptions I've read on counsellors' websites range from professional Christian counsellors with apparently no "academic" qualifications (just a lot of Christian/church-based courses) to "secular" professionals adopting a plethora of different approaches. Ones that come to mind are the person-centred approach, cognitive behavioural therapy, the Rogerian approach, etc. These terms mean very little, if anything, to me.

Obviously I will ask any potential counsellor about their specific approach, but I was wondering whether you could shed any light here. Are there any approaches that you have had particular experience of, or that have worked particularly well?

Thanks in advance,

L2L