April 25, 2025
by Marcus J. Rowland

It’s strange how something so private can carry this much shame. I’m not even sure why I’m writing this here—maybe I just want to feel less alone.

I’ve been trying to stay away from porn and masturbation for almost a year. Not because someone told me to, or because of some religious rule. It was more about control. I felt like I was using it to escape, to avoid facing the mess in my head. Depression. Anxiety. The kind of weight you carry in silence.

At first, it felt empowering. Like, “Hey, I’m finally doing something right.” But as the months went on, the silence inside me got louder. The loneliness became unbearable. I didn’t feel more whole—I felt more hollow. Like I’d traded one kind of suffering for another.

Today, I slipped. Twice. I didn’t even want to, really. It was almost automatic. And afterward, that sinking feeling returned. Not guilt—just… disappointment. Not because of the act itself, but because of the meaning I gave it. It felt like proof that I’m broken. That I can’t stay on track. That maybe this is just who I am.

I know people might roll their eyes. “It’s not a big deal.” But addiction isn’t always about the thing—it’s about the need behind it. And that need, for comfort, relief, distraction—that’s the real monster I’m fighting.

I don’t want to go back to numbing myself. But I also don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay when I’m not. I guess I’m somewhere in between. Trying. Failing. Trying again.

If anyone else out there gets this—like, really gets it—I just want you to know you’re not alone. And neither am I.