Help… I married a porn addict

Dear Editor, I am sending in this heartfelt article in the hope that you will publish it and that those who read it will either step up and try and provide support for people like me or, should they be addicts themselves, that something will resonate with them and cause them to go and get help. Due to its subject matter and the honesty with which I have tried to write, I hope you will understand why no name comes with it. In Him, a hurting wife and mum who loves the Lord and can’t find a way out of this deep pit that I’m in.

My memory is blurred and all the journaling I’ve done over the years has long found its way into the recycling as I tried to begin again; each time I thought we’d reached a stage when this part of our journey was over. But it just seems to keep on coming.

It started on our honeymoon. Every beach had its fair share of topless bathers, every café or restaurant had its fair share of waitresses skimpily dressed in black. For some reason the black seemed to be as significant as the lack of clothing. I should have read the signs, but we were newly married and he blamed it on my insecurities. Perhaps he was right?

The years passed, babies began to arrive and at some point I remember catching him playing a game of strip poker on the computer. I couldn’t believe it. My life was his. I was dedicated to the family, making all the sacrifices a good mum makes. We were Christians, not just taking up seats on a Sunday – actively involved in all manner of Christian work. How could he? But in my ignorance I assumed it was a one-off. I still wasn’t joining any dots.

Shame, hurt and devastation

Time went on, the family grew in number, our lives revolved around our faith, our home was an open home, but somewhere along the line I found a magazine and a DVD. You know the kind. Once again I was devastated, only this time I began to realise there was more to this than I’d at first thought. I sent a message for him to get home as quickly as he could and I confronted him. I should have asked another Christian to be there, but how could I share the shame that I felt, the disgust, the deep piercing hurt when you realise your life isn’t as you thought. There was nowhere to turn. So I faced it alone. The children were young – too young to have any idea of anything being amiss – so I kept it to myself. For some reason I felt I had a duty to protect him, to cover up so that he didn’t lose his reputation or Christian responsibilities. If only I’d known how long and lonely a journey it was going to turn out to be.

As I confronted him this time round, with tears, anger, a sense of betrayal and hurt that I can’t even find words for, he admitted to having a large box full of similar DVDs – DVDs so precious to him that they must have been about the only thing that he packed up when we were moving house. I won’t paint the scenes that followed – suffice it to say that I was completely devastated. I felt no self worth. I couldn’t understand where God was in all of this. I’d saved myself for this man. I thought the Lord would honour that. I thought He had honoured that. So what now?

He promised to destroy or get rid of everything; if memory serves me correctly there were some magazines as well. As I said, my writings are no more – all apart from the suicide note to the children, but I’ll come back to that.

The next few weeks and months were difficult. I no longer felt I could trust him at all. He stayed away sometimes and I tortured myself with thoughts of what he might be doing, whose company he might be enjoying too much. I was so alone. Outwardly I acted in public as if life was wonderful. We were indeed very blessed with our family but the state of our marriage and the reality of what I knew ate away at me every single day. He made promises to cut the habit – it was most definitely a habit – and eventually owned up to it having started long before we ever met. My first thought was – had I known, I would never have married him. I wouldn’t have entertained the idea of a friendship with him. Too late.

The years rolled on, but every day was painful. I can’t detail every relevant event that went on, but suffice it to say that there were plenty of warning signs that his secret life was still ongoing. I was so anxious, I started to check his phone. And one night, there it was - a list of searches for sickening videos but what hurt even more was the searches for clips involving blonde wives. Yep, you guessed it. I’m not blonde. Neither was I particularly slim anymore after having several babies and devoting my life to my family, to friends in need – of which there were many – to anyone who needed a listening ear. I was there for everyone and yet there was no one to whom I felt I could go with this dark secret that would have far-spread implications if it were to get out.

So once again we had a confrontation, only this time the children were older and aware that something was badly wrong. I couldn’t hide my tears any longer, my utter despair, my pain when I felt I couldn’t possibly feel any more hurt.

Apologies and denials

He apologised to me; he apologised to the children; but I wasn’t really sure if they understood what he was apologising for. I wasn’t sure if things were better left or if it might be worse that they could be imagining all manner of things that weren’t true. Because I didn’t know what to do, I did nothing. I wrote a list of ‘rules’ that I expected my husband to agree to – no unnecessary overnight stays away, no working behind closed doors, no meetings alone with females – that kind of thing. He said he agreed to them all and for some time he may have tried. I don’t know because what I haven’t mentioned is that the previous discoveries (and other less major ones) he’d denied, lied, deceived. It was a part of his life. It affected how he treated me, the children, his attitude towards friendships. It had taken him over and he refused to see what it was doing to him, to us, to our family.

I read some Christian books. They seemed to say that recovery was possible but that what he was doing was adultery and that I had every right Scripturally to ask him to leave. But the thought of the shame brought upon us, how it would affect the children in the circles that we moved in, how it would tear up our families – I couldn’t do it. Life got so hard that I decided the best thing was for me to just end my life. If you knew me you probably wouldn’t believe that I could ever think in this way. But I did. I wrote a letter to our children, tiptoed in to our sleeping youngest as tears streamed down my face and I quietly left the house and drove to the nearest railway station. I sat in the carpark and I poured out my heart to the Lord as I had done so many many times before. I said I was sorry for taking the easy way out, but that I just couldn’t carry on.

Resolved to stay

And then in the stillness I thought of my children, I thought of my parents and all the people who rely on me in their life, and I just couldn’t do it. I drove back home, quietly went in and put the letter into my drawer. I promised the Lord that I would never revisit that idea, no matter what.

And so the years continued to pass. There weren’t a great many good days but I became an expert at making it look like everything was okay. I’d asked my husband the last time round to be open with me, to tell me when he was struggling with ‘it’ and to tell me if he’d fallen. I needed to know. At the same time I said that it was likely the next time, if there was one, would bring about the end of our marriage. Yes, those two things were conflicting, but that was how I felt.

I continued to be on red alert constantly – listening in to phone calls, checking his diary, checking his phone, checking the accountability report that he’d finally put in place. I knew that was futile. He could access anything he liked another way and I’d never know and he was, after all, an addict. Addicts don’t just stop. Or do they? He said he was learning not to go looking for it, that the Lord had helped him and enabled him to kick the habit. So why was I so uneasy? Why were the signs still there? I’d read that I should trust my instincts, but I was by now so suspicious that I wasn’t sure if I could trust myself. But something deep down told me that he was still at it and a more recent discovery proved me to be correct. What should I do? During this time I discovered that some of the children knew what he’d been up to and one had even found some of what he’d been watching – stuff I didn’t know about – and had carried the hurt and disgust alone. That was it. I couldn’t do this any more. I’m far from perfect but honesty is important to me. He hadn’t been honest with me since who knows when, but I couldn’t have the children being dragged in to this so when he went away I sent an ultimatum: either he confesses to someone he respects and gets help or he doesn’t return home.

He did return home but didn’t mention the email or make any effort to raise the subject. So as usual, as I always had, I was the one to broach the subject. He made yet more excuses and came up with a few names, most of which were totally inappropriate for various reasons, but there was one who I felt could maybe be of help in the situation. I had a very small faint glimmer of hope that all these years of silence and pain might finally find some peace. But the snippets I got to hear only confirmed that he no longer even seemed to be aware of the truth.

I need help

He never once mentioned my ultimatum, only that he realised it was time to open up to someone to seek help. He’s still living behind lies, saying what he wants, sharing the parts he wants but not being entirely upfront and honest. And of course the man gets to keep his speaking engagements, his positions of responsibility, his circles of respect while his wife is alone and dying within. I love my Saviour with all of my heart but I am struggling to come to terms with the situation I’m in and I feel I have nowhere to turn other than upwards. That should be enough – but it’s not brought me the help and peace I need. Women need to share, but only with someone they can have absolute confidence in. The people I have confidence in – though even then there’s a doubt – aren’t, in my opinion, strong enough to deal with the information, to know what to do with it, how to deal with it. The bottom line is – I NEED HELP. Why isn’t the lure of pornography talked about in the pulpit? Why is it a hush-hush subject when statistically we know so many in the church are using it? Where are the groups to help someone like me? I recognise that one day I may be able to help others but I’m a long way off that; I don’t even know if my marriage can survive. I look at other apparently respectable men in the church and I wonder just how respectable they really are. That’s what it does to you. I’m broken and can’t see a way through. And I know there must be thousands of others like me. We need to help each other, but in order to do that we need to feel that we can share and open up. Who will help us?

I don’t need someone to judge me or judge our situation, I don’t need people telling me that it’s not only the husbands that do it – I am fully aware of those things. This is not about putting down the man; this is about needing help and not knowing where to go and knowing that I am far from alone. The church in this country needs to step up and take on board the reality of so many and find a way to help without prejudice or judgment. Will you do it?

And to any men out there reading this who may also be using pornography, either secretly or otherwise, please read this again and realise what you are doing to your wife, to your family, and get the help you need to put things back on track and get your walk with the Lord right before anything else.

The editor writes: all of us who read this will, I am sure, want to be standing with you and supporting you. If you would like to get in touch again, perhaps using an anonymous email account rather than by post, I will be very willing to try and link you up with some support for you. With love from all of us at en.