Letter to Mom

I don’t blame you.

I knew that my brother—the one right below me in age—has been having some issues. When you were looking at sites that had been allowed by the K9 blocking program all those months ago, and you saw that porn site, I knew who had been looking at it. I knew that my brother had the password to the system, but you didn’t know that.

I suppose that I should have told you and Dad, but I didn’t. Instead, I simply talked to him about it, and told him that I have the same addiction. He asked me not to tell, and I didn’t, thinking that it would be best for him to tell you guys himself. It sounded like he had barely started into it, and I was foolish not to have done more about it, especially when I’m away at college most of the time.

I don’t know when he told Dad, but I know that it was done under Dad’s Church position. When you found out today, from Dad, I know that you felt betrayed. How could Dad know about my brother’s problem and not tell you? But because my brother talked to my dad under his Church calling, he couldn’t tell you. I think that it must have been hard from Dad, to keep that a secret from you, but he was just doing what he had to do.

Then you and my brother got in a fight during Church earlier today. You wanted to pull him and Dad aside so that you could all talk. I don’t know all of what went on, because I went to class, but I know that you and Dad talked, alone. That’s when you found out the truth of what was going on with my brother, with your son.

And I don’t know when you learned about my next youngest brother. I didn’t know about him, not until you said something to me today, after this all happened.

For the last two hours of Church, you sat in the car and cried.

I never would have known, if you hadn’t told me on the drive home.

You told me that you had cried because you felt like a loser mother. Your stepson, who lived with us once he was a teen, acts like we don’t exist, and gets offended at everything you do or say when you are around him. I’ve been struggling with my addiction to pornography for years. The next child in line has the same addiction. And then the one after him has some sort of problem too, but I don’t know what it is. You didn’t tell me, or maybe you don’t know yourself.

None of your children have yet to grow up without something going wrong.

But it hurt, a lot, when you called yourself a loser mother, because it’s partly the mistakes that I’ve made that has led you to feeling this way. You can’t blame yourself for my mistakes. You raised me the best that you could. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t notice the signs of my addiction. How could you know? And with the problems that my other two siblings have… I haven’t noticed it so much either. Aside from the porn site showing up, there have been no real warning signs. I guess that they’re better at hiding it than I am.

We all have our free agency. That’s what we fought for in Heaven. It’s no wonder that it’s our agency that Satan attacks. He wants us to make bad choices, and then to lose it.

Addiction is tough. When one becomes addicted to something, he or she loses that agency—I should know. But this isn’t to say that there is no hope. God is beside me, helping me through this. It’s been twenty-five days since my last relapse. I had a near relapse a couple of days ago, but God prodded me to Instant Message one of my friends. We ended up talking for about an hour and, by the time I signed out, I didn’t feel tempted anymore.

Mom, I love you. And I’m sorry. We may have our free agency, but that doesn’t mean that we get to pick the consequences. I didn’t realize that my actions have hurt you so much, and have made you doubt yourself as a parent, and maybe even as a person.

It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for this at all.

Sometimes I do wish that it was easier to talk with you about stuff like this. You can be quick to judge at times, and whenever I start to bring this subject up, I can tell that you don’t understand why I’m still struggling with this, five, almost six, years later. I wish that you would be more open, more willing to understand what I’m going through. But I realize that most people don’t know what it’s like, to be addicted, and I realize that you’re just doing the best that you can.

Even with all of your faults, I wouldn’t trade you for any other mom.

I don’t know if you’ll ever see this. I want you to know that I don’t think you’re a horrible mom, but I also have a hard time opening up to you.

I wish that you knew the real me.

But I don’t hate you. Why would I? I was lucky to get a mom who doesn’t abuse me, who cares about me, who cooks great meals, who allows my old dog to come inside much of the day (even though she sheds a ton and occasionally has accidents), who washes my clothes, who supports my career choice of fantasy writer, who tries to accept the fact that I met my boyfriend online and that he lives in another country, and who loves me.

You have your faults, yes, but you were supposed to be my mother, and I was supposed to be your daughter. God doesn’t make mistakes, and we chose each other before we came here, to Earth.

Please don’t blame yourself. It hurts me, so much, to know that I’m causing you pain.

I’m so sorry.

I love you, Mom.

Evil Good, and Good Evil

I feel so down today.

I know why. It's because I sent in my secret to a website a little over a week ago. It was posted up yesterday, and I didn't recieve the kinds of comments that I thought I was going to get (not that I sent it in for the comments, but instead because sometimes it's just so hard to hold it all in). Instead, the majority of the comments were telling me that what I was doing wasn't wrong, just that I had been taught how to do it wrong, and that's why I feel so worthless much of the time.

I didn't send in my secret about my addiction and what I had done in order for people to tell me that I was doing nothing wrong.

And it kind of hurts, that only one person really wrote about having hope and that I could get out of this. If it wasn't for that one comment, I would totally regret sending the secret in.

It hurts, that I'm struggling so hard to overcome this problem and then others go and tell me that I'm not doing anything wrong. It's like saying that my whole struggle is worthless.

It’s like being an ‘F’ student, but then struggling so hard to reach that ‘A’, only to be told after lots of hardship and struggle that an ‘F’ is just as good as an ‘A’. It makes the whole struggle worthless.

Why try to stop doing something when it isn't wrong? Isn't that what the devil would say?

“Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!”

-          Isaiah 5:20

Isn’t this what that is? Sex is not meant to be distorted like this, but is a sacred act that should be only between a man and a wife. But the world really doesn’t see things this way anymore, and there’s even some out there who thing that the evilness of pornography is actually a good thing.

I know what pornography has done in my own life—it’s destroyed it, and it’s made me feel even more worthless than I already am. When I relapse, I like feeling worthless. It’s what I thrive on. Then I can forget that it’s me, myself, that is doing it. But that doesn’t keep my addiction from affecting all layers of me. I’m afraid to ever have sex, even after married, because it’s been so distorted for me, since I was fifteen, or maybe it was even fourteen.

I’m nineteen now, almost twenty.

That means I’ve spent five, six years of my life fighting against the pull of pornography.

It’s not a waste of time. I feel so much happier when I’m not doing thing that I shouldn’t be doing. I’m not going to give in, just because evil is now being called good. I’ll still fight, even if it takes me the rest of my life.

Still, it doesn’t stop the comments from hurting.

And one person said that if he was my boyfriend, that he would never forgive me. That scares me. What if my own boyfriend is that way, when he finds out the whole truth? He knows of my addiction, but he doesn’t know what I’ve done. Still, I have to tell him everything, and just trust in the Lord that everything will work out in the end.

This struggle is worth it, no matter what the world says, or the devil.

A Near Relapse

Why can't I stay away?

I was starting to do good. 30 days. 40 days. A drop to 10 days. And now 5 days. I'm right back where I was a few months ago, when I couldn't stay clean for more than two weeks.

I didn't even have any desire to relapse, until the moment I moved to an area of the Internet where I shouldn't have been. I pulled out of each private chat before anything actually happened, but that doesn't erase the fact that I went there and put myself in a position to receive these dirty chats.

Why do I do this?

I know that it's wrong--but haven't I known that since the beginning? At times, my desire for this addiction is greater than my desire to overcome this addiction. That's when I get into trouble. I simply don't care that I'm doing something that is wrong. I want those feelings of masturbation. And I want others to tell me that I'm worthless and there only for them to use, because then I'm not an actual person with a family, with friends, with dreams. Instead, I'm just some thing that is there for their pleasure, and all that matters is that I get pleasure out of it too.

I know that I am a daughter of God, and so I let others talk to me like I'm trash, so that I don't remember that.

And I like it. I like being called a 'whore' and a 'slut' and other such things. Because then I'm not really me, but just what they say I am. I'm not accountable for what I do when I'm the things that they call me. And they never know my real name. It's just the names that they give me, that don't have anything to do with me when I'm not there with them.

What a lie--a grand lie.

And I believe it.

No, maybe I don't really believe it, but I pretend that I do. Again, another way that I'm not accountable.

But I really am, aren't I? Sometimes I feel like I'm possessed, when I'm giving in to my addiction, but I couldn't feel that way if I didn't allow it to happen. My addiction is my own fault. I led myself right into it, so slowly that I didn't notice the changes that were overcoming me. My family didn't notice either. How could they, when everyone thought that I was such a good girl? Who could have seen it coming? How do you recognize the warning signs when you don't know what they are? I don't blame my family for my addiction, anymore than I blame myself.

Yes, it is my fault that I read stories that I shouldn't have. But I don't blame myself.

There is a difference.

I did blame myself, for the longest time. And with that blame came hatred. I despised who I was and what I had done. I hated myself more and more, each time that I went back to pornography, but it was also that hatred towards myself that helped to draw me back in.

A few months ago, I had a breakdown. I cried and cried and felt depressed and awful and cried some more. But what came out of that mess was forgiveness. I stopped blaming myself for what had happened; I forgave myself.

It's my fault that I'm addicted to pornography, but I do not blame myself anymore for it.

That difference is very important.

I had a close call just now, with slipping back into the depths of my addiction, but I pulled myself out before that could happen.

What's important is that I don't slip back again. I need to take things one day at a time, one hour at a time. I can't let my guard down, but I don't have to do this on my own. It's hard, remembering that, but if I just turn to others, then I can make it through this.

Beginnings

I'm not very good at introductions. I try to avoid them, because it is usually during the introduction that I make some stupid mistake. Still, here I am, trying to write an introduction to a blog that nobody even knows exists.

I won't give you my real name. This blog is for me to pour my heart and soul into, in a private public way. Sometimes it's nice to know that you're not alone, and so putting my thoughts into the public eye is for both me and you.

There is a band out there I really like called Within Temptation, and so when I went to create a title for this blog, it is their name that came to mind. I am within temptation, as we all are, and it is my own temptations which will be the subject of this blog.

I've never done one of these things before, but I've been thinking about this for about a month now, and so I've decided to finally act on it.

Call me Molly, if you wish to call me anything. That is the fake name I gave out that got me so deep into this mess, and so I will use it to help get myself out of it.

Molly wasn't the true beginning, though. No, that was so many years ago that I don't really remember it at all. I just know that it happened. But that's for later.

I am nineteen years old, and I am addicted to pornography.