Dear Pornography,

It’s over. We’ve been together since the 7^th grade, but enough is enough. I’m calling it quits. This is long past due, it’s not me it’s you.

In the beginning our relationship seemed fine. You serenaded me softly and slowly. You took your time. Introducing me to your lifestyle one category at a time. You were good. You knew what you were doing. Because if I had known what I knew now, surely I would have left the moment our eyes met.

But I didn’t. I let you in. I trusted you. You said I would be fulfilled. And I was…with poison.  You said it’d be fun. And it was…for a week. And then weeks turned to months and months turned to years and with years come holidays, and it’s frustrating when I can’t catch the joy around me when all I’m thinking about is the next time we meet. My Christmas’s don’t seem as merry anymore.

What happened to the casual excitement you promised? The “every once in a while.” Because every once in a while feels more like everyday. And whether I see you or not you appear in my mind, thoughts, and dreams. And when days are skipped, we always make up for lost time.

I remember eating sugar filled pixie sticks at the ballpark as a little kid, but who knew one day I’d be binging on pixels on a screen? Who knew I’d be hiding with you in the rooms unseen.

“Addict!”

Where is the joy you promised?

I’m not in sex slavery, but I feel enslaved to sex. And supporting sex slavery with every click I make isn’t what I had in mind. It’s crazy how just some innocent fun on a screen is causing someone halfway around the world pain, shame, and hopelessness. Because what I saw didn’t start on a screen. It began with victimizing women. Tricking them. I’ve abused women that I’ve never even met. But maybe it all started with me. Without eyes to see the pornography business wouldn’t be.

“How could you?!”

I find myself sad and angry every time our time is over. But not before long our time comes together again. Time after time after time. A cycle that never ends filling me with regrets. Until somehow you teach me to forget. Your innocent fun is now just a task I must attend to daily. Your voice is always in the back of my mind screeching for my attention. But you, you always want more no matter how much I give. But how can I give more when nothing is left? How can I give more when there is no me left?

You said you loved me. I thought you accepted me. You said you’d be my comfort. You lied. If comfort is me crying alone at night for it to stop, then I don’t want it. But all you really wanted deep down inside was my demise. My downfall. My dead heart being crushed over and over.

And your wish came true. My nights grew long because while everyone sleeps, I’m up at 3 am because you were lonely and wanted some company. Or was it I who wanted company because I had no one else? Or at least you said I had no one else. I mean you offered anyone I could ever want. What girl for tonight Mr. Shugart? The selection is endless. Fantasies are now realities. Take your pick.

“You’re Sick!”

The satisfaction was never enough, and addiction comes quickly when it’s only a click away.

But with every click came rushing what felt like heroin making my head spin and then… came what felt like death with the whisper of your cold breath. EMPTY. GROSS. DIRTY. Why was that so? It wasn’t making sense. You LIED to me. I traded a holiday at the sea for some mud pies, pouring images into my head with each pounding thud. And for that I hate you. I regret ever saying hello.

But God. God I love that verse “BUT GOD.” But God happened. He rescued me from my drowning abyss as my lips let go of her poisonous kiss. Freedom He gave through His Son. Christ redeemed me from the curse of an addict. He did what I couldn’t do. He broke my chains. Now the computer cord of lust that was tied around my neck no longer hangs. It’s been broken. I have been set free.

But I’ll be honest. Freedom didn’t come quick or easy. Everyday I fought. “Because I can do this. I’m strong enough. I can fight this!” Me pleading “I’m trying the best I can. It’s the last time, I promise!” But it wasn’t until I remained still as He whispered the war has already been won, not through anything you do but because of the sacrifice of my Son.

And some days are still not pretty. Though, redeemed I am, the Enemy is always scheming and witty. But Jesus didn’t come for the healthy. He came for the “I messed up again, and again, and again”. So, the next time you feel dirty and ashamed, remember the power of His Name. Don’t give up. Even if the thorn lays deep within your skin, your struggle is not beyond redemption. Grace is greater than your secret. Greater than your mistakes. Jesus is greater than pornography.