I never thought I would be the one to struggle with porn addiction. I was 20 years old when I was first exposed, and what began as a moment of curiosity turned into a hidden battle that lasted over a year. I’m sharing this because I know there are others who feel ashamed and stuck like I once did—and I want you to know there’s freedom.
Growing up in church, I didn’t have the dramatic story others seemed to carry. That made me feel like I had nothing to "testify" about—and yet, there I was, silently battling this addiction, ashamed and scared to tell anyone. I looked like I had it all together on the outside, but inside, I was struggling to hold on to my relationship with God.
It was a constant war: I loved God, yet I felt enslaved to lust. I’d lie to people I loved, pretending everything was fine, even when I’d watched porn just minutes before. I hated how it made me feel—dirty, disconnected, and desperate for validation I could never seem to hold onto.
At one point, I realized I wasn’t just addicted to porn—I was addicted to the feeling of being wanted, even if it was through a screen. I was searching for male validation in all the wrong places. I started seeing it clearly: this wasn’t just a personal weakness. It was spiritual warfare. I was under attack, and I was tired of losing.
Even being in a relationship with someone who was also a Christian didn’t help. In fact, it made things worse. We were both broken, both pretending we were fine, and all it did was feed the addiction instead of healing it. I was living a double life—trying to be a good Christian while hiding in the shadows of sin.
Then God stepped in.
There was a shift—an awakening—where I came face to face with His holiness, and it terrified me in the best way. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I didn’t want to be ruled by lust or by this false version of myself I had created.
Healing didn’t come overnight. I had to dig deep and face the emotional wounds, the soul ties, and the lies I had believed for so long. I stopped trying to just “quit porn”—instead, I focused on surrendering to God. I let Him fill the emptiness I had been trying to escape.
Quitting wasn’t just a decision—it was a consecration. I wanted to be pure, not just abstinent. I had to fight aggressively against sin, be intentional about spending time with God, and rely fully on the Holy Spirit to sustain me. I realized that without Him, I’d just fall back into the same pattern again.
If you’re struggling, hear this: it’s not just about quitting a behavior—it’s about being filled with something better. The Holy Spirit is real. And when you allow Him to dwell in the places you’ve been hiding in shame, everything changes.
Freedom is possible. I’m walking in it now, and so can you.
Growing up in church, I didn’t have the dramatic story others seemed to carry. That made me feel like I had nothing to "testify" about—and yet, there I was, silently battling this addiction, ashamed and scared to tell anyone. I looked like I had it all together on the outside, but inside, I was struggling to hold on to my relationship with God.
It was a constant war: I loved God, yet I felt enslaved to lust. I’d lie to people I loved, pretending everything was fine, even when I’d watched porn just minutes before. I hated how it made me feel—dirty, disconnected, and desperate for validation I could never seem to hold onto.
At one point, I realized I wasn’t just addicted to porn—I was addicted to the feeling of being wanted, even if it was through a screen. I was searching for male validation in all the wrong places. I started seeing it clearly: this wasn’t just a personal weakness. It was spiritual warfare. I was under attack, and I was tired of losing.
Even being in a relationship with someone who was also a Christian didn’t help. In fact, it made things worse. We were both broken, both pretending we were fine, and all it did was feed the addiction instead of healing it. I was living a double life—trying to be a good Christian while hiding in the shadows of sin.
Then God stepped in.
There was a shift—an awakening—where I came face to face with His holiness, and it terrified me in the best way. I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I didn’t want to be ruled by lust or by this false version of myself I had created.
Healing didn’t come overnight. I had to dig deep and face the emotional wounds, the soul ties, and the lies I had believed for so long. I stopped trying to just “quit porn”—instead, I focused on surrendering to God. I let Him fill the emptiness I had been trying to escape.
Quitting wasn’t just a decision—it was a consecration. I wanted to be pure, not just abstinent. I had to fight aggressively against sin, be intentional about spending time with God, and rely fully on the Holy Spirit to sustain me. I realized that without Him, I’d just fall back into the same pattern again.
If you’re struggling, hear this: it’s not just about quitting a behavior—it’s about being filled with something better. The Holy Spirit is real. And when you allow Him to dwell in the places you’ve been hiding in shame, everything changes.
Freedom is possible. I’m walking in it now, and so can you.
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