(This post comes from Roger Mann.)
Sometimes I have trouble being around other men because we tend to get close after a while. That makes me uncomfortable, and I have a tendency to sabotage the relationship at some point. The walls stay up no matter what.
On the surface, I’m very approachable. I’m friendly, chatty, and easy going to all appearances. In public, I laugh and smile a lot. Joke around a bit too. But if I feel someone is getting too friendly, I tend to become unavailable. “I’m married, have kids, and am a busy man, you know.” They usually get the message and back off into the acquaintance mode.
After all these years and being pretty lonely, I hoped the walls that protected me so well when I was young would rot away and fall down. I’d love to have a best bud, a pal, a confidant with whom I could share my thoughts and fears and hopes. But that will probably never happen. The walls are too strong now even for me to share normal husband/wife things at home. I know this hurts my wife, and she feels shut out, but it’s hard. At the least resistance or misunderstanding, I close down. Why am I so fragile?
I know this is not normal. It’s not right. I see other guys with best friends who are very close and protective of each other.
Part of my mistrust comes from feeling that because I’m attractive, I fear being set up like I was in my younger and even more attractive days. I could never tell if a guy liked me because I was a good person or just a good-looking piece of meat. And it’s not just the guys either. I’ve been seduced by both sexes. I hate the way I, too, look at others. It’s warped. We’re attracted to attractive people. That’s normal and a part of reality. But I suspect most people leave it at that and see the person as just a person. For me, it takes a while to move past the initial assessment.
The kind of childhood I had has affected so much of my life. I’ve learned to pray for people I see. I ask my Maker to let me see them as He sees them. That’s helped a lot, even though I need to work at making it a habit.
Showing posts with label same-sex attraction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label same-sex attraction. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
Tuesday, January 1, 2019
Abuse and Compartmentalization
(This post comes from Roger Mann.)
I talked to a friend who was in and out of same-sex relationships because of his abuse. We discussed that other victims speak of the emptiness of same-sex relationships, which leave them depressed and feeling miserable. But neither of us felt that way, and it caused us to wonder.
One thing we have in common is that riding off into the sunset with another male has never been a possibility. It’s not that we haven’t met anyone who’d be willing, but it’s because of the way we responded to our abusers.
Because of who they were, we never considered that what we had between us was anything more than a physical action. (For him, it was an older brother; for me, it was my dad.) It was a “thing” that involved connection and fondness, but also an understanding that it would eventually end. While I might have loved my dad, and my friend his older brother—and the closeness we each felt was great—life continued, and we grew up and moved on.
Part of our experience became a fixed pattern that repeated itself in similar types of sexual relationships. Because of preconditioned attitudes cemented in our impressionable years, our ability to commit intimately to anyone else was almost impossible.
We both knew men who wanted a more permanent situation with us, and while we felt genuine affection for them, a commitment was out of the question. Our idea of fidelity still included our wives.
The abuse rerouted our wiring and compartmentalized that area of our brains. I honestly believe my dad ruined any possibility of my having true fidelity with anyone. I can either love someone or have sex with them. For my wife, love and sex are a package deal—no compartmentalization. I struggle with that, and it’s hurt her.
Now that I’m older, it’s easier to be more faithful, but I fear it’s because of age rather than morality. With God’s help, and as revelation and understanding increase, I’m doing better.
I talked to a friend who was in and out of same-sex relationships because of his abuse. We discussed that other victims speak of the emptiness of same-sex relationships, which leave them depressed and feeling miserable. But neither of us felt that way, and it caused us to wonder.
One thing we have in common is that riding off into the sunset with another male has never been a possibility. It’s not that we haven’t met anyone who’d be willing, but it’s because of the way we responded to our abusers.
Because of who they were, we never considered that what we had between us was anything more than a physical action. (For him, it was an older brother; for me, it was my dad.) It was a “thing” that involved connection and fondness, but also an understanding that it would eventually end. While I might have loved my dad, and my friend his older brother—and the closeness we each felt was great—life continued, and we grew up and moved on.
Part of our experience became a fixed pattern that repeated itself in similar types of sexual relationships. Because of preconditioned attitudes cemented in our impressionable years, our ability to commit intimately to anyone else was almost impossible.
We both knew men who wanted a more permanent situation with us, and while we felt genuine affection for them, a commitment was out of the question. Our idea of fidelity still included our wives.
The abuse rerouted our wiring and compartmentalized that area of our brains. I honestly believe my dad ruined any possibility of my having true fidelity with anyone. I can either love someone or have sex with them. For my wife, love and sex are a package deal—no compartmentalization. I struggle with that, and it’s hurt her.
Now that I’m older, it’s easier to be more faithful, but I fear it’s because of age rather than morality. With God’s help, and as revelation and understanding increase, I’m doing better.
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
A Letter from a Female Reader
The letter below comes from Jen Puckett, a female follower of this blog.
Dear Cec,
I want you to know what your willingness to share about your abuse has meant to my husband and me. After reading your book, my husband felt understood and not alone or like something was wrong, defective, or disgusting about him. We’re especially grateful that as a Christian man you were gut honest about same-sex attraction and the struggle that causes when you genuinely love your spouse. I read your book for wives too and found encouragement in your words and in the ways you said your wife supported you most, even when she least knew how.
My husband is reading More Than Surviving right now. He appreciates knowing he’s not alone. He's 48 years old, and his abuse happened from childhood through age 16. It's been a long road. We've been through intensive individual and marriage counseling over the last couple years and are rebuilding our seventeen-year marriage.
A few years ago, I felt a desire to write a book of my own from the wife’s perspective—before we were ever ready ourselves—and treasured it in my heart until now. I struggle to tell the agonizing stories, but my husband and I agree that unless the raw truth is told, it won’t help other survivors’ wives. Your honesty and transparency in writing are what enabled him to open up toward healing.
We both know the price in exposing the truth is high. My husband’s ministry could be devastated, or we could have a shift in the way people look at abuse—especially male sexual abuse among Christianity. The chasm between true compassion and hope for the hurting and the shock or discomfort with the symptoms of abuse seems insurmountable; therefore, the church often refuses to acknowledge it. But you gave it a voice long ago, and voices are beginning to join yours. Ours will. Others will too.
We sincerely thank you, Cecil, for sharing your harrowing journey. You risked so much to help other hurting men heal and know they’re not alone. You exposed light into the darkest places of unspoken shame. You opened never-before-opened doors for abused men and showed them firsthand the courage it takes to walk through them. As a wife to an incredible survivor, I am beyond blessed that you chose to use your voice and write your words.
God bless in every way,
Jen
* * * * *
Dear Cec,
I want you to know what your willingness to share about your abuse has meant to my husband and me. After reading your book, my husband felt understood and not alone or like something was wrong, defective, or disgusting about him. We’re especially grateful that as a Christian man you were gut honest about same-sex attraction and the struggle that causes when you genuinely love your spouse. I read your book for wives too and found encouragement in your words and in the ways you said your wife supported you most, even when she least knew how.
My husband is reading More Than Surviving right now. He appreciates knowing he’s not alone. He's 48 years old, and his abuse happened from childhood through age 16. It's been a long road. We've been through intensive individual and marriage counseling over the last couple years and are rebuilding our seventeen-year marriage.
A few years ago, I felt a desire to write a book of my own from the wife’s perspective—before we were ever ready ourselves—and treasured it in my heart until now. I struggle to tell the agonizing stories, but my husband and I agree that unless the raw truth is told, it won’t help other survivors’ wives. Your honesty and transparency in writing are what enabled him to open up toward healing.
We both know the price in exposing the truth is high. My husband’s ministry could be devastated, or we could have a shift in the way people look at abuse—especially male sexual abuse among Christianity. The chasm between true compassion and hope for the hurting and the shock or discomfort with the symptoms of abuse seems insurmountable; therefore, the church often refuses to acknowledge it. But you gave it a voice long ago, and voices are beginning to join yours. Ours will. Others will too.
We sincerely thank you, Cecil, for sharing your harrowing journey. You risked so much to help other hurting men heal and know they’re not alone. You exposed light into the darkest places of unspoken shame. You opened never-before-opened doors for abused men and showed them firsthand the courage it takes to walk through them. As a wife to an incredible survivor, I am beyond blessed that you chose to use your voice and write your words.
God bless in every way,
Jen
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Same-sex Attraction
This post is from Roger Mann.
It's been a difficult struggle to accept God's truth about me. I impose so much of my dad's attitudes and vocalizations when thinking about God. It's not fair to God and not fair to me, but those ruts in the road of my logic journey are deep. The wagon just doesn't want to slip out and turn onto a different direction, a healthier direction without heroic effort. I feel I need some kind of an aha moment to turn that corner and leave this mental track.
From my high school days into in my fifties, I secretly accepted I was what everyone else probably thought: I'm gay. But I refused to admit it out loud. The closest I came was to tell someone I was bi and even that hurt and gave me a mental cringe.
I now admit that I have an unwanted same-sex attraction that I struggle against due to my childhood sexualization by my father and others. While I believe that to be accurate, it is not what God sees when He looks at me. At least I hope so. But even if he does see me that way, I love the fact that he loves me anyway, is not uncomfortable with my telling Him I love him and knowing there is no misunderstanding when I say it.
I’ve been uncomfortable telling another man that I love him, especially if he knows my history. Hugging another guy is fine if he doesn't know, but hugging one who does is awkward for me.
What is he thinking? Am I releasing fast enough so he doesn't think I am enjoying the contact too unduly?
Years ago, when I attended my first men’s conference, I was uncomfortable with any physical interaction for that reason. I also was careful not to seem like I was favoring certain guys so no one would get any ideas.
For me it's been a mine field. So, yeah, it's different from "I have a problem with alcohol, so let's not go to a bar."
I need male fellowship—healthy male fellowship— but I isolate because of the above. I feel like heaven's misfit toy. Still usable but marked down as defective.
* * * * *
It's been a difficult struggle to accept God's truth about me. I impose so much of my dad's attitudes and vocalizations when thinking about God. It's not fair to God and not fair to me, but those ruts in the road of my logic journey are deep. The wagon just doesn't want to slip out and turn onto a different direction, a healthier direction without heroic effort. I feel I need some kind of an aha moment to turn that corner and leave this mental track.
From my high school days into in my fifties, I secretly accepted I was what everyone else probably thought: I'm gay. But I refused to admit it out loud. The closest I came was to tell someone I was bi and even that hurt and gave me a mental cringe.
I now admit that I have an unwanted same-sex attraction that I struggle against due to my childhood sexualization by my father and others. While I believe that to be accurate, it is not what God sees when He looks at me. At least I hope so. But even if he does see me that way, I love the fact that he loves me anyway, is not uncomfortable with my telling Him I love him and knowing there is no misunderstanding when I say it.
I’ve been uncomfortable telling another man that I love him, especially if he knows my history. Hugging another guy is fine if he doesn't know, but hugging one who does is awkward for me.
What is he thinking? Am I releasing fast enough so he doesn't think I am enjoying the contact too unduly?
Years ago, when I attended my first men’s conference, I was uncomfortable with any physical interaction for that reason. I also was careful not to seem like I was favoring certain guys so no one would get any ideas.
For me it's been a mine field. So, yeah, it's different from "I have a problem with alcohol, so let's not go to a bar."
I need male fellowship—healthy male fellowship— but I isolate because of the above. I feel like heaven's misfit toy. Still usable but marked down as defective.
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Having a Terrible Time
This post is from Roger Mann.
* * * * *
Around certain meaningful dates, I’ve experienced times of intense increase in same-sex attraction (SSA) and desires to binge on pornography and masturbation. For me, I finally realized that the fantasies, memories, and desires were deep down my own boy inside wanting to make a different outcome than what actually occurred back then. It was like I was trying to re-write history— my sexual history with my father and others.
It was bad back then. But I didn't understand how bad. It was all new and arousing in ways I’d never dreamed of, but at the same time very unsatisfying. And as I got older and more aware of what kinds of things could have happened, I began to be drawn into fantasy of what might have been had this or that just happened. It fed a porn and masturbation binge time and time again.
Sometimes it led to actually acting out. The thing is, even when I acted out and the situation should have been perfect, there was always something inside me that said, “NO, this is not who you are." And the witness of the truth of that ruined it as it should have.
As I said, it was a terrible time. Finally, I began seeing that it was just my mind desperately wanting a different end—a fantasy relationship with my father. Or later with another my own age. And as I got older, with someone even younger than me. Perhaps it was in an effort to reverse roles to make it end differently that way.
I wanted the love, acceptance, and affirmation that I never got. I got sex from Dad, but nothing more. For the rest of my life I had been willing to trade my body for that. But that's not how one gets that, and that's not who we should look to in order to obtain it.
For me, God is the only one who gives unconditional love with no strings attached and none needed. It took me way too long to learn that, and I left a wake of destruction trying to find it in all the wrong places.
Friday, January 15, 2016
Same-sex Attraction
As a child who never experienced love or affection from this father, I was easily marked for victimization. But more than that, I gravitated toward any male who showed me affection. Mr. Lee, the pedophile who molested me, intuitively grasped my neediness.
For a long time I struggled with an attraction for any man who reached out to me. As a young adult, I didn't yield but the feelings and the temptations were there. Of all the residual effects of sexual abuse, same-sex attraction has been for me the most shameful.
I blamed myself for being needy and vulnerable.
As an adult, I've learned to say that I had what someone has called "a father wound" and another refers to as his "father hole." It's that inborn need for a healthy, significant male figure in my childhood. I needed affection and the loving physical touch of a caring man.
If that hole isn't filled in a healthy way, acting on same-sex attraction is one way to get a temporary fix—a very temporary fix.
I think of a woman who came to my office years ago. She had gone through countless affairs and said, "I wanted love and I settled for sex."
That's the sad story of too many abused men.
(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)
For a long time I struggled with an attraction for any man who reached out to me. As a young adult, I didn't yield but the feelings and the temptations were there. Of all the residual effects of sexual abuse, same-sex attraction has been for me the most shameful.
I blamed myself for being needy and vulnerable.
As an adult, I've learned to say that I had what someone has called "a father wound" and another refers to as his "father hole." It's that inborn need for a healthy, significant male figure in my childhood. I needed affection and the loving physical touch of a caring man.
If that hole isn't filled in a healthy way, acting on same-sex attraction is one way to get a temporary fix—a very temporary fix.
I think of a woman who came to my office years ago. She had gone through countless affairs and said, "I wanted love and I settled for sex."
That's the sad story of too many abused men.
The things that have an unhealthy attraction for me
point to those unmet needs of my childhood.
(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)
Friday, August 21, 2015
Alan's Story
(Alan has been reading the blog
for a few weeks and decided to write to me. With his permission, I've forwarded
his story.)
I have been enjoying the blog
posts and comments from the guys. It is very encouraging hearing the victories
of these men and sobering knowing they also have struggles as well.
My story goes like this:
I was molested when I was only 4
years old by a male family member. At the time I was too young too know what it
was and that it was wrong, but it affected my life tremendously. It wasn't
until I was in my late teens that I remembered what happened to me. I struggled
with same-sex attraction and couldn't understand why. I prayed and I had a
flashback to my childhood when and how it happened.
I only recall it happening once
but its effects lived on. From a little boy I was confused about my sexuality.
I wanted to be a girl and dressed up in my grandmother's clothing. I was often
teased and called all manner of names, e.g. sissy. It was a painful childhood
for me. I felt rejected by my peers, family members, and men. I never felt I
was manly enough. I still struggle with that. Right now I feel a sense of
sadness but, at the same time, appreciate being able to share my
experience.
I was exposed to pornography at
an early age, and it has been a struggle since then. I struggle with same-sex
attraction, gay porn, masturbation, and other psychological effects from my
abuse. I want to please God with my life and overcome my struggles, but I
continue to fail.
I desire to get married and have
children. I've tried seeking help from different individuals, but it continues
to disappoint me. I pray that God sends someone that will truly understand my
predicament and help me through it. The person I thought was going to help me
started to but abandoned the process. That was hard for me. It's such a
sensitive area.
I need someone to help me, but at
the same time I'm tired of people disappointing me regarding this area of my
life.
Thanks, Cec, for your blog and
being courageous enough to share your story and to all the guys who have shared
theirs. I pray that God helps me to overcome this fully!
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Same-sex Attraction (SSA)
(This post comes from a reader named Ron.)
Am I always going to be like this? When I get around my Wednesday night group who are trying to help me, I feel like running away. I would just like to hide. That's the way I've been most of my life. I'm so lonely and long for male contact. I am afraid just to let the chips fall.
As I am writing this I'm listening to music and there is a song talking about running into the arms of Jesus. I would like to, but I feel he is going to reject me, find something wrong with me, and not really be my friend.
I am afraid of that because I feel I will fall back and have an affair. I've fought this feeling for years. To make things more complicated, I now suffer from emotional ED now. And I'm going to see a sex therapist.
From the day I got molested and learned to masturbate, sex has been a good thing for me because I didn't have many friends, and it was the one thing that made me feel good.
I am so lost and lonely even though I am still with my wife and I have three wonderful children. I have everything you can possibly want and yet still I'm still lonely.
I don't know how to have compassion toward myself and help this little boy who has grown up inside of me. I feel like I am living in a new world, and I am a little kid all by myself.
Am I always going to be like this? When I get around my Wednesday night group who are trying to help me, I feel like running away. I would just like to hide. That's the way I've been most of my life. I'm so lonely and long for male contact. I am afraid just to let the chips fall.
As I am writing this I'm listening to music and there is a song talking about running into the arms of Jesus. I would like to, but I feel he is going to reject me, find something wrong with me, and not really be my friend.
I am afraid of that because I feel I will fall back and have an affair. I've fought this feeling for years. To make things more complicated, I now suffer from emotional ED now. And I'm going to see a sex therapist.
From the day I got molested and learned to masturbate, sex has been a good thing for me because I didn't have many friends, and it was the one thing that made me feel good.
I am so lost and lonely even though I am still with my wife and I have three wonderful children. I have everything you can possibly want and yet still I'm still lonely.
I don't know how to have compassion toward myself and help this little boy who has grown up inside of me. I feel like I am living in a new world, and I am a little kid all by myself.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Undressing Others with My Eyes
(A troubled survivor sent this to me personally and has given me permission to use it on my blog. --Cec)
Today I was sitting in a restaurant and a family came in with a couple of good-looking young men, apparently their boys. I caught myself gazing at their faces and bodies and way checking them out. I realize I've done this most of my life with different males that I come into contact with other men. I've gotten good at doing in a way that doesn’t seem like I am doing it.
The reason I post about this now is that it hit me that I find it difficult to look at people particularly men in any other way, the way most people do. I suspect most people look at someone and see a face, expression, body language, and dress. If the occasion arises to greet them, they look at their face/eyes and judge whether they are nice or not in their response.
For most people that would be enough. But all my life it has been an intense inspection of their face, lips, eyes, nose shape, ears, hairstyle, build, as in chest, arms, abs, and hips. I think some have called it undressing them with my eyes.
People aren't just people to me and since I discovered my own body, I've been curious about what others may look like. That was the original motivation for my journey into the world of porn. I was curious as to what people, mostly guys, looked like naked. It never stopped at looking, that's another story.
I have seen young men/boys who seemed unaware of their bodies and of mine. Unless I drew their attention to that, it was just incidental to whatever we were engaged in at the time. It made me feel dirty and self-conscious and I could not understand why until now. Because I was sexualized at a young age it became a huge new secret focus, and no one around me escaped that intense pre-occupation I seem to have.
I've come to hate that about myself and I don’t know if I will ever get over objectifying people. If people knew what was going on in my head they'd probably be appalled and I'd be terribly ashamed. I guess it is the way I was "trained" to see people especially men because it seemed to be the way my father and others looked at me. I don’t really know so I am guessing here. I'm not the only one who does this. I guess as adults with knowledge of adult things it is common, but I don’t think a kid should grow up this pre-occupied with these things.
That's another layer that I need to peel off. And I need with this. I find myself doing it without even any forethought at all.
Today I was sitting in a restaurant and a family came in with a couple of good-looking young men, apparently their boys. I caught myself gazing at their faces and bodies and way checking them out. I realize I've done this most of my life with different males that I come into contact with other men. I've gotten good at doing in a way that doesn’t seem like I am doing it.
The reason I post about this now is that it hit me that I find it difficult to look at people particularly men in any other way, the way most people do. I suspect most people look at someone and see a face, expression, body language, and dress. If the occasion arises to greet them, they look at their face/eyes and judge whether they are nice or not in their response.
For most people that would be enough. But all my life it has been an intense inspection of their face, lips, eyes, nose shape, ears, hairstyle, build, as in chest, arms, abs, and hips. I think some have called it undressing them with my eyes.
People aren't just people to me and since I discovered my own body, I've been curious about what others may look like. That was the original motivation for my journey into the world of porn. I was curious as to what people, mostly guys, looked like naked. It never stopped at looking, that's another story.
I have seen young men/boys who seemed unaware of their bodies and of mine. Unless I drew their attention to that, it was just incidental to whatever we were engaged in at the time. It made me feel dirty and self-conscious and I could not understand why until now. Because I was sexualized at a young age it became a huge new secret focus, and no one around me escaped that intense pre-occupation I seem to have.
I've come to hate that about myself and I don’t know if I will ever get over objectifying people. If people knew what was going on in my head they'd probably be appalled and I'd be terribly ashamed. I guess it is the way I was "trained" to see people especially men because it seemed to be the way my father and others looked at me. I don’t really know so I am guessing here. I'm not the only one who does this. I guess as adults with knowledge of adult things it is common, but I don’t think a kid should grow up this pre-occupied with these things.
That's another layer that I need to peel off. And I need with this. I find myself doing it without even any forethought at all.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Same Sex Attraction
(This is an encore post from John Joseph.)
Aside from all arguments on either side over the origins and morality of homosexuality, one of the primary remnants of my abuse is a strong sexual attraction to men. I don’t consider myself gay and I don’t live that lifestyle. I am a husband and a father and I choose to live in a loving marriage with my wife of now thirty-two years. Still, this unwanted same-sex attraction (SSA) shows up in my life often and always in the form of compulsion.
I have come to understand a few things about SSA in my life. First, it is an irrational state of mind. I never decide to have an attraction to a guy and it is never a romantic thing for me. I don’t dream about getting flowers from a man or of being taken to exotic destinations for a getaway with him. For me, SSA is more about feeling insecure or rejected. It happens most often when I am dealing with stress or something uncomfortable in my circumstances.
SSA generally starts with a feeling of discomfort in my mind. It is like a pot on the stove with a lid on it. As the water inside heats up the steam needs an escape valve. If things inside me are heating up, the escape valve can be triggered when I visualize or see an attractive man. I immediately size him up and compare myself with him. If he seems to be bigger, stronger, more successful, or more “together” in his personality I can become attracted. Fantasy takes over and eventually I’m caught up in an irrational state of mind.
The end of this irrational fantasy can be a foray into gay pornography and masturbation, leaving me shamed and depleted. Obviously, SSA is an unhealthy response to life’s normal stresses for me. Part of my recovery work is to recognize that it is irrational and to learn how to interrupt the cycle as soon as I recognize it.
I have come to understand a few things about SSA in my life. First, it is an irrational state of mind. I never decide to have an attraction to a guy and it is never a romantic thing for me. I don’t dream about getting flowers from a man or of being taken to exotic destinations for a getaway with him. For me, SSA is more about feeling insecure or rejected. It happens most often when I am dealing with stress or something uncomfortable in my circumstances.
SSA generally starts with a feeling of discomfort in my mind. It is like a pot on the stove with a lid on it. As the water inside heats up the steam needs an escape valve. If things inside me are heating up, the escape valve can be triggered when I visualize or see an attractive man. I immediately size him up and compare myself with him. If he seems to be bigger, stronger, more successful, or more “together” in his personality I can become attracted. Fantasy takes over and eventually I’m caught up in an irrational state of mind.
The end of this irrational fantasy can be a foray into gay pornography and masturbation, leaving me shamed and depleted. Obviously, SSA is an unhealthy response to life’s normal stresses for me. Part of my recovery work is to recognize that it is irrational and to learn how to interrupt the cycle as soon as I recognize it.
Friday, July 18, 2014
He Thought He Was Gay: A Comment and Response
(This post appeared on June 13, and Jason B. commented on July 17. I've included his comments and my response below. --Cec)
Blog post from June 13:
Brian told me about his abuse as a child and said, "For years I thought I was a homosexual." Because he seemed to be a rather well-adjusted heterosexual, I asked, "Any idea what made you feel that way?"
Without hesitation he said, "Because I enjoyed it. From the first time I had an erection and it felt good." When he was a little older, he ejaculated. "If it was that awful, why did I enjoy it? I thought I was gay."
Cec's response:
Not Quite Healed was certainly not written to tell anyone they had to change or were rushing to hell if they didn't. I don't think that way.
I confess I don't understand why some people are gay and others not, whether it's nurture or nature (or a combination) that makes them who they are. I've tried to show respect and compassion for everyone, regardless of their sexual status. I'm sorry if that didn't come through in my book.
One of my good minister friends is transgender. I still love Erin as much as I loved Eric before his sexual surgery.
I agree with you that it's a highly complex issue. I'm not smart enough to know the answers; I am smart enough to know that the great command in the New Testament is to love. And Paul says that if we love, we fulfill the laws of God.
Blog post from June 13:
Brian told me about his abuse as a child and said, "For years I thought I was a homosexual." Because he seemed to be a rather well-adjusted heterosexual, I asked, "Any idea what made you feel that way?"
Without hesitation he said, "Because I enjoyed it. From the first time I had an erection and it felt good." When he was a little older, he ejaculated. "If it was that awful, why did I enjoy it? I thought I was gay."
Until he was in his early twenties and after Brian "tried sex with a man once," he spoke of enjoying it and hating it at the same time. He didn't try it again and found it revolting to think about.
"Am I gay or not?" he asked himself.
Shortly after that, Brian visited a group that focused on male survivors of sexual abuse. "The penis responds to stimulation," the leader says. "That feels good, and that's absolutely natural to get aroused. But it doesn't mean you're gay. It means you have responded in a normal, natural way."
That was the day Brian started to say, "I'm a healthy, heterosexual male." It was also the beginning of a new life for him.
Jason's comments:
Let me first say I love your book Not Quite Healed. It is a wonderful, overall helpful book to survivors of abuse like myself and for that I am very thankful. However in your book you recommended Exodus International for their reparative therapy. Around the same time your book was released they made a statement that they were stopping operations because they realized they were wrong and were causing great harm. Are you willing to make a similar statement recanting your recommendation of reparative therapy?
While I believe some people who were abused can have confusion about their orientation, I don't believe that environmental factors are the "cause" for a person to identify as LGBTQ. I know this story is only one person's experience but are you suggesting that all people who identify as LGBTQ are just confused?
"Am I gay or not?" he asked himself.
Shortly after that, Brian visited a group that focused on male survivors of sexual abuse. "The penis responds to stimulation," the leader says. "That feels good, and that's absolutely natural to get aroused. But it doesn't mean you're gay. It means you have responded in a normal, natural way."
That was the day Brian started to say, "I'm a healthy, heterosexual male." It was also the beginning of a new life for him.
Jason's comments:
Let me first say I love your book Not Quite Healed. It is a wonderful, overall helpful book to survivors of abuse like myself and for that I am very thankful. However in your book you recommended Exodus International for their reparative therapy. Around the same time your book was released they made a statement that they were stopping operations because they realized they were wrong and were causing great harm. Are you willing to make a similar statement recanting your recommendation of reparative therapy?
While I believe some people who were abused can have confusion about their orientation, I don't believe that environmental factors are the "cause" for a person to identify as LGBTQ. I know this story is only one person's experience but are you suggesting that all people who identify as LGBTQ are just confused?
I'm not saying you are not entitled to your beliefs, whatever they may be. But I do think it would be incredibly helpful to be sensitive to the possibility that this issue is more complex than what just one group of Christians wants to define as being biblical. Suggesting that sexual identity is just a learned behavior is incredibly naïve and damaging to survivors who have SSA or identify as LGBTQ.
Jason, thank you for your good attitude.
I'll do my best to explain. My understanding of Exodus--at the time I wrote--was they they were a resource for people who had been in the gay lifestyle and wanted help to get out. For me, it's that simple. If they want help to change, that was the best resource I knew. (They disbanded after the publication of my book.)
I'll do my best to explain. My understanding of Exodus--at the time I wrote--was they they were a resource for people who had been in the gay lifestyle and wanted help to get out. For me, it's that simple. If they want help to change, that was the best resource I knew. (They disbanded after the publication of my book.)
Not Quite Healed was certainly not written to tell anyone they had to change or were rushing to hell if they didn't. I don't think that way.
I confess I don't understand why some people are gay and others not, whether it's nurture or nature (or a combination) that makes them who they are. I've tried to show respect and compassion for everyone, regardless of their sexual status. I'm sorry if that didn't come through in my book.
One of my good minister friends is transgender. I still love Erin as much as I loved Eric before his sexual surgery.
I agree with you that it's a highly complex issue. I'm not smart enough to know the answers; I am smart enough to know that the great command in the New Testament is to love. And Paul says that if we love, we fulfill the laws of God.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Hardcore Porn
(This post comes from Mark.)
I just reread your chapter "I'm Addicted to Pornography" in Not Quite Healed. Recently I got a cell phone. Last night I used it to access some hard-core, gay porn sites. I didn't want to, but I wanted to. Yes, in this area, I'm still a divided man.
I had not seen any hardcore porn for three years. (I say hardcore, because seeing a man's picture in the weekly Walmart flyer can serve as porn for me. My imagination can fill in what my eyes do not see.)
After church this morning, I confessed to my sponsor. He was gentle with me. Thanked me for confessing to him. Told me I hadn't had to take that choice. He asked me if I'd been able to confess to God (I had) and reminded me that whether I feel it, or not, I am forgiven.
He asked if I would be comfortable handing over my phone for his wife to see if she could install blocks to prevent a recurrence. I was, and I did. For me, the only other option would be to get rid of the phone. I cannot have devices that allow me that kind of access. (My sponsor's wife had already put Net Nanny on my computer, and she holds the passwords - that gives me a lot of protection when I'm on-line with my computer.)
My sponsor put his arm around me and prayed, acknowledging before God that I was hurting. He also told me he loved me. Touch and speaking the words "I love you" are not easy for my sponsor. Like me, he is also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, family dysfunction, and addiction.
This afternoon, my sponsor's wife has sent me an email, expressing her words of encouragement.
Why am I writing all this to you? I appreciate that your book deals with issues such as pornography by sharing real experiences from real men. And writing this to you is another way of helping me to face the reality of what I did, in the light, rather than cower from it in the darkness.
I found it to be no accident that part of this morning's message in church dealt with Philippians 1:6: being confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will carry it out until the day of Jesus Christ.
During my teen years, when I lived in a dark world of sexual sin and brokenness that I cannot put into words, God used that verse repeatedly to let me know that my life would not always be lived in that hell.
And this morning, hours after falling back into the sin of hardcore gay porn, God literally displayed those same words across the screen of my church.
As I look back at a very rough day, I see that God has responded to my failure with gentleness, tenderness, compassion, and restoration. All day long He has been saying, "Son, I love you."
I just reread your chapter "I'm Addicted to Pornography" in Not Quite Healed. Recently I got a cell phone. Last night I used it to access some hard-core, gay porn sites. I didn't want to, but I wanted to. Yes, in this area, I'm still a divided man.
I had not seen any hardcore porn for three years. (I say hardcore, because seeing a man's picture in the weekly Walmart flyer can serve as porn for me. My imagination can fill in what my eyes do not see.)
After church this morning, I confessed to my sponsor. He was gentle with me. Thanked me for confessing to him. Told me I hadn't had to take that choice. He asked me if I'd been able to confess to God (I had) and reminded me that whether I feel it, or not, I am forgiven.
He asked if I would be comfortable handing over my phone for his wife to see if she could install blocks to prevent a recurrence. I was, and I did. For me, the only other option would be to get rid of the phone. I cannot have devices that allow me that kind of access. (My sponsor's wife had already put Net Nanny on my computer, and she holds the passwords - that gives me a lot of protection when I'm on-line with my computer.)
My sponsor put his arm around me and prayed, acknowledging before God that I was hurting. He also told me he loved me. Touch and speaking the words "I love you" are not easy for my sponsor. Like me, he is also a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, family dysfunction, and addiction.
This afternoon, my sponsor's wife has sent me an email, expressing her words of encouragement.
Why am I writing all this to you? I appreciate that your book deals with issues such as pornography by sharing real experiences from real men. And writing this to you is another way of helping me to face the reality of what I did, in the light, rather than cower from it in the darkness.
I found it to be no accident that part of this morning's message in church dealt with Philippians 1:6: being confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will carry it out until the day of Jesus Christ.
During my teen years, when I lived in a dark world of sexual sin and brokenness that I cannot put into words, God used that verse repeatedly to let me know that my life would not always be lived in that hell.
And this morning, hours after falling back into the sin of hardcore gay porn, God literally displayed those same words across the screen of my church.
As I look back at a very rough day, I see that God has responded to my failure with gentleness, tenderness, compassion, and restoration. All day long He has been saying, "Son, I love you."
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
The Terrible Burden of Secrets
(This post comes from an anonymous reader.)
I felt unloved by my mother; I was unloved and unwanted by my stepfather. “You’ll never amount to anything,” he said. I believed I was worthless. I was rejected at home but at the same time I wasn't allowed to participate in sports, or to join in Scouts. I never had the male companionship that every boy needs and longs for.
The first sexual abuse that I remember was at age five. After that, I told my mother that I could hit my “willie” and it would get stiff; and if I kept hitting it, I would feel good. Shortly after that, they had me circumcised. In those days, many parents believed it stopped masturbation. I don’t remember masturbating again until about 13 when a neighbor boy took me behind our garage and showed me how. That activity became my comfort.
In my mid-teen years, I was enticed by a man. An adult male wanted an unwanted boy. I would have done anything he suggested. And it warped how I saw myself for decades. I had kissed my girlfriend before that, and that had been my most electrifying experience until the same-sex encounter. From then on, I wanted to be a heterosexual man, but I was drawn repeatedly to same-sex encounters.
In my 30s, I married a woman who loved me unconditionally. But I couldn't bring myself to tell her my secrets. How could I survive if she left?
After she died, I comprehended the depths of her unconditional love. I found a folder of poems and letters that she’d written to me when we were dating but had never mailed them. As I read them, I knew she would have been by my side through anything that enabled me to be rid of secrets.
The biggest part of my burden was guilt over my cruising parks where I could watch same-sex activities. I told myself, Watching isn't as bad as participating. Afterward, my guilt was as dreadfully damning as if I’d participated.
As a result, for the last years of our marriage, I was impotent. Had I trusted my wife and let her share my sorrow, we could have had joyful sex.
I finally trusted my pastor enough to tell him some of my story. He sent me to a counselor to whom I told everything. Both pastor and counselor accepted me as a man of worth. They gave me hope.
Secrets are terrible burdens. They can destroy us.
I felt unloved by my mother; I was unloved and unwanted by my stepfather. “You’ll never amount to anything,” he said. I believed I was worthless. I was rejected at home but at the same time I wasn't allowed to participate in sports, or to join in Scouts. I never had the male companionship that every boy needs and longs for.
The first sexual abuse that I remember was at age five. After that, I told my mother that I could hit my “willie” and it would get stiff; and if I kept hitting it, I would feel good. Shortly after that, they had me circumcised. In those days, many parents believed it stopped masturbation. I don’t remember masturbating again until about 13 when a neighbor boy took me behind our garage and showed me how. That activity became my comfort.
In my mid-teen years, I was enticed by a man. An adult male wanted an unwanted boy. I would have done anything he suggested. And it warped how I saw myself for decades. I had kissed my girlfriend before that, and that had been my most electrifying experience until the same-sex encounter. From then on, I wanted to be a heterosexual man, but I was drawn repeatedly to same-sex encounters.
In my 30s, I married a woman who loved me unconditionally. But I couldn't bring myself to tell her my secrets. How could I survive if she left?
After she died, I comprehended the depths of her unconditional love. I found a folder of poems and letters that she’d written to me when we were dating but had never mailed them. As I read them, I knew she would have been by my side through anything that enabled me to be rid of secrets.
The biggest part of my burden was guilt over my cruising parks where I could watch same-sex activities. I told myself, Watching isn't as bad as participating. Afterward, my guilt was as dreadfully damning as if I’d participated.
As a result, for the last years of our marriage, I was impotent. Had I trusted my wife and let her share my sorrow, we could have had joyful sex.
I finally trusted my pastor enough to tell him some of my story. He sent me to a counselor to whom I told everything. Both pastor and counselor accepted me as a man of worth. They gave me hope.
Secrets are terrible burdens. They can destroy us.
Friday, November 22, 2013
My Name Is Joseph #1
Whenever another man bares his soul and writes about the depths of his pain and his journey into healing, I'm deeply touched. The post that follows along with two others came from the same man.
Thank you, Joseph, for your willingness to open your heart to the rest of us.
Please note that Joseph speaks about the help of a trained counselor. Some of us took different paths toward healing, but we had someone there for us—not always a professional. We didn't do it alone.
Thank you, Joseph, for your willingness to open your heart to the rest of us.
Please note that Joseph speaks about the help of a trained counselor. Some of us took different paths toward healing, but we had someone there for us—not always a professional. We didn't do it alone.
--Cec
My name is Joseph. After being a widower for 2 years, I made an appointment with a counselor.
Living alone in my house with a computer brought all kinds of old lusts and memories that called me to surf the net. I needed help. My secrets went back to when I was five years old and a boy a little bigger than I wanted to play cow, and he had me be the cow. I have a vague memory of his crawling onto my back.
The other secrets began the summer I turned 17. A same-sex event, but for the first time in my life I felt wanted. I never told anyone—not even my wife who loved me unconditionally and would have loved me no matter what I confessed to her. Instead, I built walls.
My wife died in Oct. 2010. In January 2013, I met with the counselor for the first time, determining beforehand that I would trust him and puke it all out. It has been a life-changing experience. I would still be in my prison of the past if I had not talked to a man about what happened to me.
If you think it will help, you’re welcomed to post it under the name Joseph.
* * * * *
My name is Joseph. After being a widower for 2 years, I made an appointment with a counselor.
Living alone in my house with a computer brought all kinds of old lusts and memories that called me to surf the net. I needed help. My secrets went back to when I was five years old and a boy a little bigger than I wanted to play cow, and he had me be the cow. I have a vague memory of his crawling onto my back.
The other secrets began the summer I turned 17. A same-sex event, but for the first time in my life I felt wanted. I never told anyone—not even my wife who loved me unconditionally and would have loved me no matter what I confessed to her. Instead, I built walls.
My wife died in Oct. 2010. In January 2013, I met with the counselor for the first time, determining beforehand that I would trust him and puke it all out. It has been a life-changing experience. I would still be in my prison of the past if I had not talked to a man about what happened to me.
If you think it will help, you’re welcomed to post it under the name Joseph.
Friday, October 25, 2013
"I Struggle with Same-sex Attractions"
(This amazingly transparent comment comes from a man named Mark, and he has given me permission to print it. Cec.)
I read your post, "Something is wrong with me," Throughout my entire childhood, the memories of my abuse were pleasurable in my mind. They represented acceptance from my teenaged abuser at a level that I never found elsewhere.
I struggle with same-sex attractions. In recent days I am finally seeing that every time I meet a man—whether at church, at my favorite coffee bar, my recovery meetings, or just passing on the street—I look to see if there's something that will attract me.
My friends are godly men, married, and with families. At times, I've been attracted to them physically and emotionally—craving their touch, attention, and approval.
Even though I know it's wrong, if I were to put myself in the wrong situation, I could choose homosexual activity with a man. By God's grace and protection, I have not made that choice in more than 10 years. But it continues to happen in my mind.
I'm entering a point in my journey where those around me cannot walk with me. Their responses to their own abuse have been different. I know God is always with me. But I long for more than Him. I long for strong arms to hold me. I long for strong fingers to brush away my tears and for a strong chest to lay my head against.
When I'm completely honest, I know that none of my longings are about homosexuality. I'm longing for what I've always yearned for—which my father was unable or unwilling to provide. I long for the expressions of intimacy that were withheld from me, and which, in turn, made my sexual abuse seem so good.
I'm really hurting. And yes, only God can touch this place. Is He good enough? Is He God enough, to touch this place? My years of "church training" make me want to automatically answer, "Of course."
I may be wrong, but out of respect for the lonely, hurt child within, I am not going to answer that question. I'm going to allow it to stand, unanswered: "Is God good enough to touch this place I've been afraid to let go of, since I was 5 years old?"
I struggle with same-sex attractions. In recent days I am finally seeing that every time I meet a man—whether at church, at my favorite coffee bar, my recovery meetings, or just passing on the street—I look to see if there's something that will attract me.
My friends are godly men, married, and with families. At times, I've been attracted to them physically and emotionally—craving their touch, attention, and approval.
Even though I know it's wrong, if I were to put myself in the wrong situation, I could choose homosexual activity with a man. By God's grace and protection, I have not made that choice in more than 10 years. But it continues to happen in my mind.
I'm entering a point in my journey where those around me cannot walk with me. Their responses to their own abuse have been different. I know God is always with me. But I long for more than Him. I long for strong arms to hold me. I long for strong fingers to brush away my tears and for a strong chest to lay my head against.
When I'm completely honest, I know that none of my longings are about homosexuality. I'm longing for what I've always yearned for—which my father was unable or unwilling to provide. I long for the expressions of intimacy that were withheld from me, and which, in turn, made my sexual abuse seem so good.
I'm really hurting. And yes, only God can touch this place. Is He good enough? Is He God enough, to touch this place? My years of "church training" make me want to automatically answer, "Of course."
I may be wrong, but out of respect for the lonely, hurt child within, I am not going to answer that question. I'm going to allow it to stand, unanswered: "Is God good enough to touch this place I've been afraid to let go of, since I was 5 years old?"
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Flashbacks and Dreams
(This post is an excerpt from an unsolicited email from Mark and is printed with his permission.)
I recently read your book Not Quite Healed. I have always had a brief memory of sexual abuse that occurred when I was 4 or 5 years old. Two years ago I entered a Celebrate Recovery program to begin to deal with out of control porn addiction, same-sex attraction, and a host of fear and anxiety.
I began to experience flashbacks. At first I didn't understand what they were. My sponsor is an abuse overcomer and was able to get me helpful information on flashbacks.
It wasn't until reading your chapter on flashbacks and dreams that I realized you men were speaking my "language" and describing my experience.
Not only that, but I also realized that given my memories, and the additional evidence of the flashbacks, it is right for me to say that, to the best of my understanding, I was raped as a young boy.
Beginning to use that ugly word rape has brought peace. I'm no longer fighting and doubting myself. I am allowing myself to accept that I was a victim.
Thank you both for your book, for your vulnerable honesty.
Mark
I recently read your book Not Quite Healed. I have always had a brief memory of sexual abuse that occurred when I was 4 or 5 years old. Two years ago I entered a Celebrate Recovery program to begin to deal with out of control porn addiction, same-sex attraction, and a host of fear and anxiety.
I began to experience flashbacks. At first I didn't understand what they were. My sponsor is an abuse overcomer and was able to get me helpful information on flashbacks.
It wasn't until reading your chapter on flashbacks and dreams that I realized you men were speaking my "language" and describing my experience.
Not only that, but I also realized that given my memories, and the additional evidence of the flashbacks, it is right for me to say that, to the best of my understanding, I was raped as a young boy.
Beginning to use that ugly word rape has brought peace. I'm no longer fighting and doubting myself. I am allowing myself to accept that I was a victim.
Thank you both for your book, for your vulnerable honesty.
Mark
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Same-Sex Attraction
(By Cecil Murphey)
As a child who never experienced love or affection from this father, I was easily marked for victimization. But more than that, I gravitated toward any male who showed me affection. Mr. Lee, the pedophile who molested me, intuitively grasped my neediness.
For a long time I struggled with an attraction for any man who reached out to me. As a young adult, I didn't yield but the feelings and the temptations were there. Of all the residual effects of sexual abuse, same-sex attraction has been for me the most shameful.
I blamed myself for being needy and vulnerable.
As an adult, I've learned to say that I had what someone has called "a father wound" and another refers to as his "father hole." It's that inborn need for a healthy, significant male figure in my childhood. I needed affection and the loving physical touch of a caring man.
If that hole isn't filled in a healthy way, acting on same-sex attraction is one way to get a temporary fix—a very temporary fix.
I think of a woman who came to my office years ago. She had gone through countless affairs and said, "I wanted love and I settled for sex."
That's the sad story of too many abused men.
(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)
As a child who never experienced love or affection from this father, I was easily marked for victimization. But more than that, I gravitated toward any male who showed me affection. Mr. Lee, the pedophile who molested me, intuitively grasped my neediness.
For a long time I struggled with an attraction for any man who reached out to me. As a young adult, I didn't yield but the feelings and the temptations were there. Of all the residual effects of sexual abuse, same-sex attraction has been for me the most shameful.
I blamed myself for being needy and vulnerable.
As an adult, I've learned to say that I had what someone has called "a father wound" and another refers to as his "father hole." It's that inborn need for a healthy, significant male figure in my childhood. I needed affection and the loving physical touch of a caring man.
If that hole isn't filled in a healthy way, acting on same-sex attraction is one way to get a temporary fix—a very temporary fix.
I think of a woman who came to my office years ago. She had gone through countless affairs and said, "I wanted love and I settled for sex."
That's the sad story of too many abused men.
The things that have an unhealthy attraction for me
point to those unmet needs of my childhood.
(This post was adapted from Not Quite Healed, written by Cecil Murphey and Gary Roe.)
Friday, December 28, 2012
Same Sex Attraction
(This post comes from John Joseph.)
Aside from all arguments on either side over the origins and morality of homosexuality, one of the primary remnants of my abuse is a strong sexual attraction to men. I don’t consider myself gay and I don’t live that lifestyle. I am a husband and a father and I choose to live in a loving marriage with my wife of now thirty-two years. Still, this unwanted same-sex attraction (SSA) shows up in my life often and always in the form of compulsion.
I have come to understand a few things about SSA in my life. First, it is an irrational state of mind. I never decide to have an attraction to a guy and it is never a romantic thing for me. I don’t dream about getting flowers from a man or of being taken to exotic destinations for a getaway with him. For me, SSA is more about feeling insecure or rejected. It happens most often when I am dealing with stress or something uncomfortable in my circumstances.
SSA generally starts with a feeling of discomfort in my mind. It is like a pot on the stove with a lid on it. As the water inside heats up the steam needs an escape valve. If things inside me are heating up, the escape valve can be triggered when I visualize or see an attractive man. I immediately size him up and compare myself with him. If he seems to be bigger, stronger, more successful, or more “together” in his personality I can become attracted. Fantasy takes over and eventually I’m caught up in an irrational state of mind.
The end of this irrational fantasy can be a foray into gay pornography and masturbation, leaving me shamed and depleted. Obviously, SSA is an unhealthy response to life’s normal stresses for me. Part of my recovery work is to recognize that it is irrational and to learn how to interrupt the cycle as soon as I recognize it.
I have come to understand a few things about SSA in my life. First, it is an irrational state of mind. I never decide to have an attraction to a guy and it is never a romantic thing for me. I don’t dream about getting flowers from a man or of being taken to exotic destinations for a getaway with him. For me, SSA is more about feeling insecure or rejected. It happens most often when I am dealing with stress or something uncomfortable in my circumstances.
SSA generally starts with a feeling of discomfort in my mind. It is like a pot on the stove with a lid on it. As the water inside heats up the steam needs an escape valve. If things inside me are heating up, the escape valve can be triggered when I visualize or see an attractive man. I immediately size him up and compare myself with him. If he seems to be bigger, stronger, more successful, or more “together” in his personality I can become attracted. Fantasy takes over and eventually I’m caught up in an irrational state of mind.
The end of this irrational fantasy can be a foray into gay pornography and masturbation, leaving me shamed and depleted. Obviously, SSA is an unhealthy response to life’s normal stresses for me. Part of my recovery work is to recognize that it is irrational and to learn how to interrupt the cycle as soon as I recognize it.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Porn
(This post comes from "J".)
An addiction to pornography was one of the effects of my early childhood sexual abuse. The women in the pictures were fascinating, though I had no clue why they were unclothed. My brother would “show me” what the women did as we looked at the pictures. The natural result was a strong sexual confusion on my part. For years, I thought I was a woman.
I now live a heterosexual lifestyle and have been married for three decades. But through these years I have found myself struggling with this addiction. Of course, I felt the typical shame and self-loathing after indulging. The more I watched the more I want to do it.
I have come to understand many things about the roots of my addiction. The primary root is the yearning to feel needed. The abuse scarred me deeply and has manifested itself in me at times as an irrational compulsion for gay porn. This is what is called “acting out” for me. I acted out the early homosexual abuse through porn, compulsive masturbation, and a few gay encounters.
I now live a heterosexual lifestyle and have been married for three decades. But through these years I have found myself struggling with this addiction. Of course, I felt the typical shame and self-loathing after indulging. The more I watched the more I want to do it.
I have come to understand many things about the roots of my addiction. The primary root is the yearning to feel needed. The abuse scarred me deeply and has manifested itself in me at times as an irrational compulsion for gay porn. This is what is called “acting out” for me. I acted out the early homosexual abuse through porn, compulsive masturbation, and a few gay encounters.
Acting out in any way is destructive emotionally and spiritually, but especially to my marriage and to my work. When I sense a temptation to indulge in porn, I try to remember that this feeling is strong, but irrational. The porn will never satisfy me in the deepest way and it can never heal what hurts the most—my broken heart.
Friday, December 23, 2011
"He Acted Out"
I recently read a romance novel written in 1932. Quaint, of course, but one thing stood out. At the end of chapter 9, the hero picks up the heroine (his wife who had resisted his affections) and carries her into the bedroom. The chapter ends with these words: "He kicked the door closed."
"The next morning," are the first words in chapter 10.
In those days writers were careful not to write about sexual issues but readers figured out what they meant. Maybe that's why we speak of pre-World War II as the time of innocence.
I mentioned that concept because of a phrase I hear quite often today about men who have been sexually assaulted in childhood. They talk about their change of heart, conversion, counseling, and move on to the changes in their lives.
But once in awhile a man admits, "But I acted out," and that's all he says. I certainly am not a voyeur and I'm not interested in reading graphic descriptions, but I would like a little more direct honesty.
• "I fell into sin."
• "I went back into my old ways."
• “I was promiscuous.”
• “I got into porn.”
• "I had sex with another man."
• "I committed a homosexual act."
As repulsive as those statements may sound to some, they're honest. I realize that saying a simple sentence like engaging in sexual acts with someone of the same gender is too difficult for some men to admit. Or they may not feel safe in saying those words.
But if a man seeks healing, that's part of the reality if he has "acted out." He needs to learn to speak the truth as candidly as he can. Not to say it straight is a form of denial or at least an attempt to mitigate the seriousness of the activity. Or it may be a statement still wrapped in shame.
I'm certainly not trying to urge survivors to speak openly and publicly until they're ready. But to speak in euphemisms or cover words isn't being candid.
"The next morning," are the first words in chapter 10.
In those days writers were careful not to write about sexual issues but readers figured out what they meant. Maybe that's why we speak of pre-World War II as the time of innocence.
I mentioned that concept because of a phrase I hear quite often today about men who have been sexually assaulted in childhood. They talk about their change of heart, conversion, counseling, and move on to the changes in their lives.
But once in awhile a man admits, "But I acted out," and that's all he says. I certainly am not a voyeur and I'm not interested in reading graphic descriptions, but I would like a little more direct honesty.
• "I fell into sin."
• "I went back into my old ways."
• “I was promiscuous.”
• “I got into porn.”
• "I had sex with another man."
• "I committed a homosexual act."
As repulsive as those statements may sound to some, they're honest. I realize that saying a simple sentence like engaging in sexual acts with someone of the same gender is too difficult for some men to admit. Or they may not feel safe in saying those words.
But if a man seeks healing, that's part of the reality if he has "acted out." He needs to learn to speak the truth as candidly as he can. Not to say it straight is a form of denial or at least an attempt to mitigate the seriousness of the activity. Or it may be a statement still wrapped in shame.
I'm certainly not trying to urge survivors to speak openly and publicly until they're ready. But to speak in euphemisms or cover words isn't being candid.
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