I was giving a workshop on the topic of addictions when David pulled me aside: “I want to start a support group for young men struggling with porn. What tips or tools would you recommend?”

“I assume it’s something you have personal experience with,” I said. 

 “Some.” He squirmed in his chair. 

 I smiled. “I realize this just became a whole lot more personal than you were expecting, but I think you’ll find my answer more helpful if you let me personalize it instead of just giving you theory. Are you okay with that?”

He thought a second and then nodded. 

“What triggered your last episode?” 

“I thought I’d failed a big final exam. I came home totally stressed out.” 

“And that left you feeling…”

“Anxious. Depressed. A failure.”

“Which led you to escape into porn.”

He slumped in his chair and looked everywhere but at me.

“It didn’t help, though, did it? Afterwards you felt worse.”

He stared at me, stunned. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know there’s something fundamentally good about you that wants to be free to live and love. A You that can’t settle for a living in fantasy land that requires you objectify women. That’s where your misery comes from.” 

His eyes opened wide as though this were a brand-new thought to him.

“I believe it’s also where you got your compassion for others—and the courage to come talk to me.”

A smile spread across his face.

“Take me back to what you were feeling before you gave into the urge.”

“I’ve always been told I was the smart one. In fact, that was the only time I felt like my family really noticed me—when I was smart.”

“So failing the exam meant your desire to be seen and valued was in jeopardy.”

He nodded.

“Sounds like a lot rides on being ‘the smart one.’ No wonder you felt anxious. You had every reason to feel that way.”

“Really?!” He straightened in his chair.

“Of course! And that’s where anxiety becomes a friend. Cars have dashboard lights to draw our attention to a problem under the hood. Your anxiety is a dashboard light. It’s telling you that you’ve anchored yourself in something you have no control over. Something your good heart can’t be content with.”

 “I don’t want to do that!” His eyes filled with tears. 

“And there’s your good heart again—longing for something so much more substantial. Tell me, how hard would it be for you to say no if someone were to offer you porn right now?”

“It’d be easy.”

“Pretty amazing what happens when our hearts come out of hiding from fear and shame to come back home to ourselves. Let’s come back to the idea of a support group. Imagine if all we’d done was focus on applying tips and tools to keep you from looking at porn. Doing that would have reduced it to a moral straight jacket of does and don’ts, depriving us of what we’re experiencing right here with one another.”

He leaned forward, eager for more.

“Now imagine a context where you and your buddies felt safe to open up to one another. Where you could tune into the dashboard lights together… Recognize the lesser things you’ve rooted your hearts in… And embrace them as an invitation to throw yourselves to come back home to your True Selves.” 

David’s face lit up. “I’d want to be part of that kind of group!” 

“So would I!”