Nearly five years ago I had a loving Bishop who met with me often concerning my addiction. I didn’t know I had an addiction at that time, but he gave me the love and encouragement I needed at that point in my life. He was a good leader and friend.

He often used a phrase at the end of our meeting together. He’d say, “Let’s move forward.” He said it so often that I now think of him every time I hear it. For me it has significant meaning. Not only did I hear it as an invitation, but I also received it as a promise of hope—eventually.

“Move forward? You mean there’s a way out of this hellish pit?”

I remember feeling hesitant to believe him… to give in to my desire to believe him. I’d failed so, so many times. Even wanting to believe that I could be rescued felt more like a burden simply because the idea carried so much fear of failure and of breaking my wife’s heart again. I couldn’t stomach the thought of it. I thought it best that I suffer alone… I couldn’t change what I’d done, but moving forward felt so distant and elusive.

I don’t remember when I felt willing to believe in hope again. It wasn’t a singular event for me. I think it happened gradually. I do know that it didn’t happen until I’d been attending pornography addiction support group meetings for a few months with a good friend of mine. Talking with him and interacting with those men restored a faint hope in my mind and heart that I could change permanently, that I could be healed, and that God would heal me. The men in those meetings gave me courage to believe that I could move forward.

This weekend has challenged my faith and resolve. I’m not talking white-knuckle resolve, although I started down that kind of hopeless thinking on Friday. I’m talking about the days and feelings that force me to either dig deep and decide to completely rely on God and others, or take a break from digging and isolate myself.

My wife went out of town for five days and she’ll return tomorrow night. The last time she went out of town I relapsed. I relapsed bad. It was a heavy binge that lasted for nearly a week. That was almost two years ago. I remember the moment she left the driveway… my adversary wasted no time. Immediately I felt overwhelmed by stress, loneliness, and cravings galore. Back then I still believed I had to muster strength and willpower on my own. “I got myself here, so I need to get myself out.” Didn’t work.

This time around I felt the stress and loneliness building in my heart and mind. My body began craving disgusting amounts of junk food and I gladly supplied it (often a precursor to my acting out). I felt the river of my addiction rising. Its power over me was about to sweep me downstream and back into my hell of pornography and pain, depression and despair. After a full day of doing nothing but idly passing time on the couch and white-knuckling, I went to bed exhausted, grumpy, lonely, and completely drained. Somehow God gave me the faith to journal and pray that night. I’m so grateful He did that for me.

Saturday morning I woke up with a clear head. I knew I couldn’t repeat the previous day’s efforts and end the day sober. My heart was filled with motivation to reach out for help, to do something productive, to spend quality time with my daughter, and to surrender to my God. Somehow in my heart I knew that I was receiving this blessing because of the loving and faith-filled prayers of my friends and family, especially my wife and sponsor.

Even after receiving this surge of faith, I nearly fell into lazy mode that morning, but then I started cleaning our home. Oh boy, did we clean! I think Isla, my daughter, was moderately concerned by my sudden behavior shift, haha. She cleaned and worked with me and we got a lot done.

Then we played just as hard we worked! At her request and to my blissful enjoyment we snuggled on the couch while eating lunch and watching Frozen. After that we went to a nearby fast food restaurant so she could run around in the play place. As we were leaving I pointed out the Y on the mountainside above BYU and Provo. She said, “Oh! Look at that letter! Let’s go up there and touch it!” So we did. We made it to the Y just as the sun began to set. It was the best hike I’ve ever been on. Then we held hands and ran down the mountain together. Yeah, pretty much perfect.

We spent some of the highest quality and most quantity time we’ve ever enjoyed together. My heart was filled with love, joy, and gratitude. Why did that happen? Because I chose to surrender my loneliness, laziness, and stress to my Savior, who in turn gave me more recovery and another twenty-four hours of sobriety. Had I not reached out to my friends and had my wife and sponsor and others not prayed for me, I would’ve had a much, much different day. I wouldn’t be sober.

So, reaching out, asking for help, having friends and loved ones to help me move forward in recovery—it all works much better than trying to handle things on my own. I think that’s why moving forward used to scare me so much. I was thinking of moving forward alone.

You’re welcome to contact me if you like. I can always use more recovery friends. I think we all can.