True Stories of Finding Help and Hope
"Evan's" Story
An obsession with adult pornography and the "ultimate high" led "Evan" to cross the line to illegal images of children.
Editor's Note: This is a true story based on an interview with "Evan" (not his real name).
I was a heavy drinker all of my adult life, basically since I got out of the military, and drank more and more as the years passed. Then my parents got ill and the burden of their care and decision making fell on me. I felt lost and overwhelmed and drank even more. Then a computer came into the house, and what had been a moderate interest in pornography became an addiction.
I was just doing porn all the time and drinking, always looking for the "ultimate high." When you're addicted to pornography, you're always looking for the perfect picture, THE picture, and then forever you'll be satisfied. Of course, it doesn't exist. But you keep looking.
I hadn't crossed the line yet—the adult pornography I was looking at was legal—but my wife found out, and so I started using my computer at work instead. I was a youth program director for more than two decades. I was crossing all kinds of boundaries using the work computer for porn. I was lying to my wife, spending a lot of money, damaging my relationship, my mental health, potentially my job. And I continued to do it. That's the definition of addiction is when you continue to do those things and you know they're harmful.
I was basically out of control. I felt disconnected from almost everything. I was secretive. I was in a dark, dark place. On the outside, I was always laughing and had a great sense of humor, but the darkness was inside of me.
One day, I got an email saying, you know, "I've got some hard-to-find child pornography I can sell you." Now, I don't excuse what I did because of alcohol, but I was not making good decisions, and I thought "what the hell." I knew it was wrong. I knew it was terribly dangerous and illegal to buy child pornography, but it's the same kind of thinking that goes into excessive drinking. "You deserve it. Helps you relax. Gets you high. Makes you feel good." I thought the ultimate high would give me a sense of peace and comfort and love and warmth and all those other things that everybody wants. And so I bought the child porn—and got arrested.
I wish someone had come to me and said, "You're getting yourself into huge trouble. If you do this you're going to get arrested and go to jail. But you can get help so you don't do this." I think I would have taken it seriously. But no one did. This was my first offense ever, never even a speeding ticket. I lost my job, my career, my health and life insurance. My wife found out, people at work found out. It was on the news.
I went to jail. I went through treatment for alcohol addiction. I went through treatment for issues with child pornography and my sexual thoughts about children. I never touched any children, never wanted to because it was a boundary for me and because I didn't want to be close to anybody—I liked porn because it wasn't real, it didn't involve anyone else. But I sometimes worry what might have happened if I hadn't gotten help when I did. I've said many times that if I had not been arrested and gone to jail, I think I probably would be dead by now. I think that's where I was headed.
But I did get help. Now the drive for the ultimate high has been redirected to healthy things, biking and other physical things, and I feel better and I like myself better. I found a group where I can go talk about this stuff in a safe place, a non-judgmental setting, and have people listen and keep me on track.
Now I want to give something back to the community by encouraging others to get help before they get in big trouble and do things that affect the whole rest of their lives.
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"Henry's" Story
"Henry" realizes that his "sexual orientation" is to children. He knows that he can never be alone with a child again.
Editor's Note: This is a true story based on an interview with "Henry" (not his real name).
When I was in kindergarten and also age seven or eight, I was abused by several people that were either family or people I knew. I began acting out in sexual ways right then. I mean it wasn't something I waited until a teenager to do. I wouldn't say it was consensual for a nine-year- old to perform a sex act on a five-year-old. I wouldn't say that was consensual.
I think there was more guilt about the deceit than there was about the acts. I was deceiving my parents. They had always thought of me as the perfect child. I certainly wasn't. I was deceiving myself, pretending that this didn't really matter. Maybe I thought it didn't matter. I'm not sure.
When I was a teenager, I would have responded most favorably to an adult who cared about me and knew about my behavior and wasn't going to condemn me, just mentor me as a person. I could think of several people who did take on some of that mentoring role. I look back on those people as heroes, but they didn't know about my behavior.
I think I was in denial about my behaviors, mostly. I knew it was wrong that I was doing this, but I didn't see the wrong. I didn't perceive it enough so that I could go seek out help.
A good share of my offenses were while the child was sleeping. I was telling myself, well, he doesn't know about it, but I knew it was hurting me too.
A couple of them were family. Others were kids I had developed a relationship with. The youngest was about five, and the oldest was about fourteen. I know them through connections at church. I was involved with a boys' group. None of the kids ever said anything that I'm aware of.
I did on a couple of occasions, when I was in the military, share with a roommate about what I had done. I don't think anybody really believed me. My behavior was quite exemplary in that I don't think they believed what I was saying. People think there's a stereotype. There's not. I told them because I was feeling guilty and I just wanted to get some of that out. Something needed to come out.
It wasn't helpful when people didn't believe me. For the moment it was helpful, just to have the chance to talk, but in terms of changing my behavior, absolutely not. I still fantasized about kids. I still do today.
My wife and I talked together before we were married. I shared with her where I was and what my desires were for children and what I had done sexually to children. The two of us decided that we would talk to a couple who were friends of ours and who had done some counseling.So we spent a couple of months talking with them.
I first asked for help when my children were in elementary school. I spent a year with a psychiatrist, but I got nowhere. I stopped going. Then one of my children went through some difficult times in high school. My wife and I did family counseling. After a while the kids didn't feel any need to go, but my wife and I continued. We built up trust with the counselor. I shared my story. He suggested I go to a gentleman who was more trained for that kind of counseling. That's how I ended up in specialized treatment.
It's been seven or eight years since I offended, and that was the only time since our marriage. The other events were previous to my marriage. So for the last 20 years, it was just eating at me. The guilt and the shame and not knowing how to handle myself on it at all except to stop it. That was what I was doing.
Until I got into specialized treatment a few years ago, I didn't see any hope for dealing with my behavior. I knew that society looks down upon my offense as really way underneath the table kind of thing. I knew that my behavior just wasn't accepted. I didn't see myself changing.
I still realize that that's basically my "sexual orientation" but I feel like through treatment I've gotten some handles on how to deal with that so that I'm not acting inappropriately and not hurting children. I want it understood that I am just an ordinary person, just someone who has dealt with some really awful stuff and done some awful things but still I have likes and dislikes. There are some positives about me.
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"Carla's" Story
"Carla" is finding that therapy and twelve-step groups have helped her work through the terrible feelings she has about abusing children when she was a teenager.
Editor's Note: This is a true story based on an interview with "Carla" (not her real name).
I was like fourteen or something. It was the kids that I took care of, the neighbor kids, many years ago. It wasn't until the last few years that I told anybody. I told my husband first. He was very understanding and talked with me about it. We both decided to get help.
I thought when you got to a certain age that those awful thoughts and feelings would just go away by themselves. I knew it wasn't right for the children, that it wasn't good for me. I think I was just so numb in those days. It really didn't click how bad it was until later.
I decided it was bad when I became more aware of how what my dad did to me had affected my life in so many ways. I can be open about things that are done to me, but it's different to talk about things I had done.
Talking about my own sexual abuse started fairly young, but it seemed like no one knew how to talk about it, or what to say. I can remember telling my best friend in my first year of college. I don't remember her reacting at all. I told my first boyfriend. He didn't really react one way or the other, either. It's true that therapy is hard, because working through my problems means talking about what happened, and feeling the feelings again. It's so hard to go there, but my therapist really listens and helps me.
I certainly demonize my father for what he did to me. Just the other day, I thought for a minute he could be human. It was such a shocking thought. It's so hard not to demonize him when a big part of my surviving abuse is to make him be the bad guy.
So then what do you do when you do the same thing?
I'm trying to be open-minded or creative about how to make amends. You have to be so careful that everything else you do is right, that you don't ever hurt anybody again.
Twelve-step groups have helped a lot. I go because my husband is a recovering addict. My own therapist has been just great in listening to what I have to say and not fixing it, but not being completely passive, either. To help put the pieces together. To say, "Here are some options. Here are some different ways to manage this." A lot of it's just about identifying the terrible feelings I have, and finding places to express them.
I really believe that stuff works. The basic tenets of talking about it, letting go of it, making amends, forgiving yourself, not doing it ever again, and going on with your life.
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I'm worried
about myself.
I'm worried about an adult I care about.
