In the first two parts of this series I documented my descent into porn addiction and subsequent recovery. Despite the number of people affected by porn addiction, the whole issue is veiled by a fog of shame and confusion and none of the established therapies seem to be consistently successful. During the course of my recovery I learned that the more accurately I understood the psychological processes surrounding my addiction the more easily I was able to reprogram them in healthy ways. As a result I developed an intense desire to deconstruct porn addiction; to transform it from a mystifying complaint whose very existence is disputed into a clearly understood mechanical process, much like one of those exploded diagrams showing the inner workings of the two-stroke engine.
Two levels of belief systems
My first step into decoding porn addiction came from exploring my beliefs. Each of us has thousands, maybe even millions, of beliefs that encapsulate what we hold to be true about the world and our place in it: how we feel about ourselves, god, sex, love, politics, social class… the list goes on and on. Each of these beliefs is like a little computer ‘app’ (to use the in-vogue term) running in our psyches, shaping every moment of our lives, impelling actions and reactions in any given situation. Together these myriad beliefs create what might be termed a ‘belief system’.
I had always believed I had a positive attitude to sex – in other words, sex was something to be enjoyed and, as long as it was consensual, a matter of personal choice. As recounted in the first two parts of this series, I realised during my porn addiction that only a tiny fraction of the images I looked at actually appealed to me. I termed these ‘Holy Grail images’ and the ones I was most strongly drawn to showed the faces of women experiencing sexual joy – a joy that was largely lacking from my own sex life. There was a huge disparity between what I believed was how sex should be and how sex actually manifested in my life. This showed me that my beliefs existed on two levels – one conscious and the other unconscious.
I classified these two levels as conscious mental beliefs that matched my positive attitude to sex, and unconscious DNA-level beliefs that matched my actual, limited sex life. It seemed that my conscious beliefs had little effect on my life while my DNA-level beliefs were the shaping force of my sexuality. According to these DNA-level beliefs, the only acceptable (i.e. moral) form of sexual expression was between a married, monogamous couple, in their bedroom, at night, with the door closed, the curtains drawn, the lights out and in the missionary position. (I exaggerate, but you get the drift – and those are the conditions under which most of the sex in our society occurs.) Anything else was shameful and inappropriate for me. Although on the surface I had complete freedom of choice, my DNA-level beliefs constricted me to sexual behaviour that fitted a very limited pattern: I was trapped in an invisible prison where sex was a duty, not a wellspring of joy.
Now it is clear that these two different sexual belief systems could never be good neighbours: they were mutually exclusive. This begs two questions: firstly, why did one of these beliefs – the limited one – have primacy over the other? And secondly, what was the effect on my psyche of the conflict between them?
The sexual-spiritual split
The answer to both questions lies in what Michael Picucci, PhD, founder of the Authentic Process Healing Institute, calls the ‘sexual-spiritual split’. Writing in The Journey toward Complete Recovery, Picucci describes this as “a deep psychic schism within almost everyone in our culture which prohibits enduring, loving relationships to form, which at the same time can remain sexually alive and growing.” In short, the sexual-spiritual split is a psychic wound resulting from the incompatibility of our animal sexuality and our civilised humanity.
Human beings live in a polarised world where everything we experience is, consciously or unconsciously, divided into good and bad. During adolescence we pick up signals from our environment – families, schools, religious groups and the wider community – as to what is ‘good’ and what is ‘bad’. Good behaviour is a sign of belonging while bad behaviour is the mark of the outsider.
Ever since we stood upright, formed into clans and either went out to fight woolly mammoths with toothpicks or stayed in caves tending fires and children, human beings have had a profound need to be accepted members of their communities because the opposite – to be ostracised – led to death. Although the conditions of life in modern Western countries are unrecognisable from the Paleolithic era, the need to belong still informs much contemporary behaviour. Over the course of history, socially-approved (‘good’) human sexual behaviour has become largely restricted to monogamous marriage; even in the world’s most liberal societies violations of this behavioural code are still deeply taboo. Our society’s unspoken expectation is that we should all find our ‘other halves’, get married and from then on keep our sexuality behind closed doors.
I now understand that as I was growing up, none of the role models in my life modelled any form of positive sexuality. My unconscious interpreted this to mean that sex was a serious threat to my ability to belong. I therefore rejected my budding sexuality within my own psyche, ostracizing it from my core personality – the ‘good’ me that behaved in socially sanctioned ways which also included ‘higher’ attributes such as intelligence, compassion, religious/spiritual values and love. This rejection created a void within my own psyche – the sexual-spiritual split.
This void was a wound; a deep painful throbbing that constantly ached within me for over thirty years. The throbbing was like those drums welling up from the depths of the Mines of Moria in The Lord of the Rings; a menacing, ungodly sound that seemed to spell only doom. It took a very long time to realise their meaning: accept me; love me; heal me. My hunger for sexual joy wanted to rejoin my core personality as a fully accepted part of myself.
The deadly embrace
At the time I didn’t understand this; all I felt was a profound urge to look at sex, and in our sex-negative society, where all displays of sex are taboo that meant looking at porn. So off I went, spiralling down into a full-blown addiction, caught in an endless rollercoaster of craving sexual images only to feel shame and self-disgust for looking at them. My addiction was a Catch-22 between these two polarised feelings – and the psychological programming which underlay each of them.
My addiction, then, resulted from the collision of two pieces of unconscious programming within my psyche. The first was a profound urge to cast off the shackles of rigidly codified sexual behaviour and let my sexuality unfold in joyful and appropriate ways. This urge had no get-out clause; it kept impelling me with greater and greater strength until it broke through the prison of my fear-ridden psyche and manifested in my life.
The second was a deep need to observe accepted sexual rules which, when violated by any sexual desires outside their accepted bounds, such as looking at porn, inflicted deep feelings of shame and revilement – what Michael Picucci calls ‘toxic shame’ – upon me. This process also had no get-out clause; the more unacceptable sexual behaviour it witnessed, the more shame it generated. Together, these two processes created a ‘deadly embrace’ that locked me into addiction.
The first process urged me towards greater sexual gratification and the easiest way to do that was through porn. The second process then kicked in and made me feel ashamed of viewing the porn. The first process retaliated by increasing my desires, driving me back to the ‘net and escalating from soft porn to hardcore. The second process responded by heaping greater shame and self-disgust upon me. This Catch-22 spiralled with ever-increasing intensity until it took over my life. Both processes were simply doing what they were programmed to do. This was a cycle without end – until, as already related in this series, I realised that unconditional acceptance of my sexual self was the key. This disempowered the negative process, allowing me to disengage from the Catch-22. And because I was then free to allow sexual joy into my actual life, the need for the porn substitute subsided.
Re-reading this article, what I have written feels like third-rate home psychology. Yet these simple abstractions, however inaccurate, led me on a profound healing journey that has been nothing short of incredible, completely altering my relationships with my own sexuality, with women and with life itself, bringing joy where once there was only pain. To continue the Tolkien analogy, I have been There And Back Again, and my life has been enormously enriched by it.
When I began investigating porn addiction it was like one of those medieval maps with large white spaces marked simply, “Here be dragons”. The conclusions I drew or learned from outside-the-box sources like Michael Picucci created a simple map which allowed me to cross this trackless waste and reach a new world beyond. I don’t know whether this map is a general blueprint widely applicable in other people’s lives, but I suspect it is – using this model and other insights described in this series I have helped another man make the journey not just out of porn addiction but into a whole new sexual paradigm; a paradigm full of joy and free of shame and degradation. And from the vantage point of this new paradigm I can see how the war on porn will be won: by turning it into the most powerful driver of personal growth the world has ever known.
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Thank you for the article – very enlightening, but I’d like to share my concern of your comment about sex-negative society, about sex as taboo. I guess I speak from the point of younger generation as I do not feel that sex is taboo, I do not feel that sex should happen only in marriage behind closed doors. I know that the limit is each others consent. I think my attitude towards sex is quite free, but does that come from society’s changing attitude towards sex? I do not feel that over-sexualized media contributes to healthy attitudes towards sex and porn seeping into my bedroom certainly does not make me feel free. Porn has nothing to do with sex and all to do with power as the use of female sexuality as a marketing tool. As free and limitless I feel about my sexuality, it gets limited and locked up with the image my body has in this age…
Though not addicted to porn I am very disturbed by my own relationship with porn and the effect it has on my relationships. It may sound like an excuse but I genuinely think porn has played a massive part in me cheating, porn is almost like the first thought that all too quickly leads to a deed.
Your articles are really powerful and thought provoking. My only question would be how do you get rid of your urges so to speak now? My fear is that I pleasure myself to make sure I can last for my partner but by pleasuring myself watching porn, am I being disrespectful to my partner?
I just want to say with regards to you ‘pleasuring yourself to porn to make sure you can last for your partner’ you should check out Naomi Wolf’s The Porn Myth: http://nymag.com/nymetro/news/trends/n_9437/ it basically says that porn turns men off the ‘real thing’.
In my case I never lost interest in the real thing, which surprises me a little as I see how the mechanics of that would work: If we feel ashamed of our sexual needs we are reluctant to ask our partner to meet them; by disposing of the urges through jacking off to porn, the need to bother one’s partner for sexual attention passes. However this only worsens the problem because the partner’s sexual needs are then unmet, creating further tensions in the relationship.
Thanks Mikel. Your use of language such as ‘cheating’ and ‘get rid of your urges’ suggests the same deep-seated negativity and shame around sex that I used to have. When I replaced this negativity with a full acceptance of myself as a sexual being then the porn cravings subsided. I still have sexual urges but not the destructive ones that lead to porn use.
Over 90% of the porn addicted men who end up on our site arrive with no shame or guilt related to porn use. Most have been “happily” using porn for years, as it’s the norm for their generation. Most seek out assistance because they are developing copulatory impotence or earlier signs of porn-induced ED.
We have hundreds of forums of every description linking to our website yourbrainonporn (only a few are porn recovery forums). Reading the threads related to the links, it’s clear that very few men have moral qualms about their porn use.
I certainly used to experience shame and guilt over my porn use. However during my recovery I came to understand that they were part of a wider tapestry of emotional beliefs that contributed to keeping me addicted. In order to free myself from addiction I released all judgmental programming around sex, including “moral qualms” about porn use. My moral qualms may have gone but that’s irrelevant as I don’t use porn any more.
I think you’re right about that, Gary Wilson. In this obese age, a more natural response to porn than compassion is surely envy: Lucky bastards who can make a living with their naked bodies!
I just found this website, linked via an article in The Guardian Culture section from last October and have to say I’m very interested and impressed.
Being born in 85, I guess I part of the last generation of people who were not able to access internet pornography freely prior to and during puberty. While a regular user of porn, I feel I am very lucky in this sense, as I can only imagine what being exposed to porn from a very early age can do to a person’s sexual development.
Of course, porn can also negatively effect those who begin watching later in life (I probably started watching stuff regularly from around the age of 19, I’m now 26). Having been single for around 6 months now, I’ve noticed my ‘reliance’ on porn getting worse. However, I was also regularly watching porn while in my last relationship, which I would class as very intimate and sexually healthy.
While I am becoming more aware of the negative role of porn in my life and have decided to try giving it up completely, there is a nagging question in the back of my mind I’d like to put to the visitors and contributors to this site.
First of all, I am now aware that quiting porn is not only an act borne of self-interest, but a moral act in that I will no longer contribute to the demand of a ‘product’ which can (not always) wreck the lives of performers and consumers.
Also, I know a major argument against porn is the way in which it objectifies and degrades women and leads men to do this increasingly in their daily lives.
However, say we take out the porn and stick to masturbation (a fairly healthy thing for a man or woman to do when single, or perhaps at times while in a relationship), do our fantasies not amount to objectification of women’s bodies? Even if we limit ourselves to fantasising about ex-gfs we’d had healthy sexual relationships with, we continue to think of women as objects while masturbating.
Now, of course this is an improvement over watching real women being treated like crap for our viewing pleasure. However, are the psychological effects on the person masturbating (sans porn) still the same? ie, I may think about a friend, shopworker, ex-gf, teacher, politician, celebrity, or anyone else I find attractive as a sexual object. What would non-objectifying fantasising involve?
Lol, I hope what I’m trying to say there makes sense. Either way, I’m very glad I’ve found this site and others who share my concern about porn culture.
I would suggest that people only fantasize during masturbation because they are ashamed of what they’re doing. If you’re not ashamed then you simply have sex with yourself with no need to project fantasies onto someone else.
For a positive view of the health effects of sex, try “Sex Heals” by Laura Moore. In a particularly gripping passage the author describes how she masturbated in hospital to overcome (pun intended) the potentially fatal West Nile Virus.
Rhiannons, thanks for the reply, although (with all due respect), I find it quite confusing.
I’ve never felt in any way ashamed about masturbation. I was lucky to be brought up in a family which does not treat sexuality as a taboo and where it was accepted and expected this is a natural part of life. As an adult, I feel the same.
I’m not exactly sure I want to view sex in terms of utlity, ie, what I can achieve through it, rather than enjoying it in and of itself. The health benefits of masturbation or sex with another person are of no interest to me. This is almost bordering on an ascetic ideal of self-denial. Don’t eat chocolate because it will make you fat (unless in small amounts, in which the antioxidant content may be good for you), go running to stay within a certain body range weight etc.
I actually enjoy the sensation of sex and also contemplating the female form, which I find attractive. I don’t think there is anything immoral/shameful about this, especially when in a loving relationship, or happy with your own body.
This only becomes a problem through our society being highly unequal, forcing many women to perform/show their bodies for the pleasure of men, for money. This may also disseminate into the wider society in ways which mean women have to be attractive sex objects to gain a prominent position in public life (appearing on TV being the most obvious example).
No doubt sex can ‘heal’ all kinds of ills. However, I’ll stick with the form of sexual healing I think Marvyn Gaye was singing about. Sexual healing with the ultimate aim of pleasure and connection with myself, or another individual, not to cure a headache or an exotic disease!
I understand your confusion, I was confused myself for many years. I used to do porn and wrestle with issues such as you describe in your posts. I would also have described myself as unashamed of my sexuality. It took me a long time to discover I had a deeper layer of shame of which I had been unconscious. Once I released that shame the porn stopped, the fantasizing stopped and in place of confusion I had clarity and peace of mind.
Sorry, but that didn’t clarify your points at all, just came across as fairly condesceding and patronising. With all due respect, you sound quite similar to a born again Christian who has seen the light, is no longer confused and feels pity for those poor souls who have not yet come to the same realisation.
My point was, porn = bad and is having a negative effect on indivdiuals and society at large. However, there is no shame in men and women finding each others’ bodies attractive, as well as their minds. We’ll have to agree to disagree on that, as well as my assertion that there is nothing shameful about sexual fantasy. I have managed to quit porn while holding this belief, so perhaps the ‘shame’ you suffered from wasn’t the real cause of your porn use.
Also, these things are usually largely a matter of will power. I used to smoke, decided to stop one day and did. I used to drink alcohol, realised it wasn’t doing me much good, so stopped. I’ve had the same realisation regarding porn and have therefore stopped.
Modern man has survived thousands of years by procreating and viewing sex as something spiritual, chemical and just downright fun, not as a means to an end (ie, curing illnesses, breeding etc).
Thanks Pete, I shall have to check my phrasing more carefully in the future as some of your interpretations are a long way from what was intended!
Still, you appear to have answered your own question from your first post, “do our fantasies not amount to objectification of women’s bodies?” as in your last post you now say there is nothing shameful about sexual fantasy. Are you saying it’s not OK to masturbate to a digital image of a woman but it is OK to masturbate to a mental image of one?
No problems, I hope my replies didn’t come across as overly sarcastic or cutting!
“Are you saying it’s not OK to masturbate to a digital image of a woman but it is OK to masturbate to a mental image of one?”
To an extent, yes. Such images and forms of fantasy are qualitatively different. If you masturbate to images of women who are economically forced to work in the sex industry, you are increasing demand for that ‘product’ and the continued abuse and exploitation of women.
If you masturbate to an imaginery (or, real past) experience, no woman’s body has become a commodity or been abused in that process.
If a person’s imaginery sexual fantasies (based strictly in their head) involve treating women violently etc, then said indvidual most likely has issues they need to deal with before such imaginery fantasies become real. However, this is a toughy, in that we don’t want to police invdividuals’ private thoughts.
Then, we move onto the idea of shame. For me, shame is a fairly nebulous term and as a concept in our society, deeply ingrained in and linked to Christianity/religiosity. Personally, I don’t think there is anything shameful about fantasising about men, women (or both). I believe that while we are encouraged to do this more than would be natural in an alternative society (from a young age we learn to connect our wants with sexual wants, through advertising etc), I think such fantasising is natural. I don’t have the research to back me up on this and I am fully prepared to be proven wrong (if anyone has any academic articles/books studying this stuff, I’d be grateful). Perhaps this is dealt with in the book you mentioned.
Basically, I’m all for protecting real life women and I belieive that first and foremost involves taking on the porn idustry, prostitution etc. Perhaps first through the treatment of women within the sex industry and hopefully in the future, removing the conditions within our cutlure that lead it its existence (weatlh inequality, sexualisation from a young age, patriarchy).
I aim to stick to the political nitty gritty, while leaving the cleansing of mens’ minds and saving of souls to the minister.
Well, Pete, I think you answered a lot of your own questions. The mechanic of fantasizing is completely natural and existed long before porn. Porn does influence, warp, and even create fantasies in us though. I don’t think it leaves any of our sexuality untouched. Fantasies can be misogynistic and they can affect behavior/perception. If (ideally neither) are happening, then fantasizing is really inconsequential. It’s easy(for feminists)to identify objectification when it’s in front of you. The definitive line between desire and objectification, unfortunately, has not been drawn in much detail. I do think there is a big difference though.
I don’t really get Rhiannon’s perspective either. It sounds like he quit porn more for his own benefit than because of ethical issues.
I didn’t quit porn, I resolved my addiction — there’s a big difference. And I did that by realising that porn (for me at least) wasn’t an ethical issue but about my emotional wellbeing.
So yes, I did this for own benefit but don’t you think that every time the demand for porn is reduced that it benefits the women in the industry?
‘sugarcoating’ – Lol, yes, my comments were slightly rambly and seem to have pretty much resolved themselves! Just wanted to get others’ points of view.
Not sure if you’ve heard of the feminist activist/writer Nina Power, but her book ‘One Dimensional Woman’ has an interesting chapter on early forms of porn which were far more naturalistic and ‘fun’, as opposed to the scary industrial scale stuff being churned out from LA.
I think quiting porn for your own benefit, as well as ethical issues is key. I don’t think many people would quit for purely altruistic reasons. I think most people who stop using porn have first become concerned with how what they are doing is affecting their lives, moving on to learn more about the wider negative effects of porn.
Having said that, I’d say my own experience has been the opposite way round. However, I am politically aware/active and have been taking time to become greater acquinted with feminist theory in the past year or so. After watching the documentary ‘hardcore’ and reading first hand accounts, I’m coming closer to the view that all mass produced porn is abuse/rape as their is no effective choice being made by the performers. It’s the same as workers in other industries being exploited by the fact they have no choice but to take work they don’t enjoy simply to earn the money to live. If someone is doing something they would not do without being paid, they are being exploited and abused, no matter what the industry.
Porn/prostitution is the thin end of the wedge, considering how it encompasses mental and physical exploitation to an extreme degree.
I also agree with Rhiannons Cave’s point that quiting porn for any reason is a positive thing as it reduces demand and squeezes the margins of those producing the stuff. In the short term, this is likely to have negative side effects (more extreme porn being made and mainstreamed in an attempt to shore up revenue), while in the long term it may debilitate the industry.
However, making a ‘market choice’, rather than attacking the wider societal causes of porn would be a mistake.