The Problem Isn’t Porn… It’s Disconnection
Let’s talk about something that almost no one talks about honestly — and that a lot of couples quietly struggle with: porn.
It’s a charged topic. For some, it’s a private habit. For others, it’s a major source of tension in their relationship. In high school, I thought I had a porn addiction. The patterns were all there — secrecy, shame, compulsion, attempts to quit, failure, and judgment.
But after years of recovery work, emotional growth, and learning how to connect with myself and others in a new way, I see things differently.
The real problem wasn’t the porn.
It was disconnection.
How It Started
I still remember that moment in middle school. My buddy distracted the guy at the register while I swiped a Playboy from the magazine rack at the drugstore. That was it—my first view of the full female body. It felt thrilling, powerful, forbidden. Something about that moment stuck.
Back then, porn was hard to get. But not for long. Dial-up internet showed up, and suddenly it was everywhere. No more stolen magazines or awkward glances at the corner store. It was just... available. And I started going back to it often.
I wasn’t alone. Today, around 70% of men aged 18–30 report watching porn more than once a week, and the average age of first exposure is now 11 years old. What started for me as curiosity turned into a coping mechanism.
The “Fix” That Wasn’t a Fix
Eventually, I was prescribed SSRIs for depression. And for a while, I thought the problem had gone away — the pull toward porn all but disappeared. I don’t think I had worked through anything. Rather, those meds completely shut down my sex drive.
Then I got sober.
And early in recovery, I was encouraged to stay out of the dating pool for a while (I gave it a solid attempt). But without substances or distractions, I was left with myself. And guess what showed up again after all those years!
That pull toward distraction — not because I needed it, but because I didn’t want to feel what was really going on.
I tried to treat it like I treated alcohol—total abstinence. Cold turkey. Willpower. To be clear, I didn’t have anything close to an addiction at this time but I was curious why this was showing back up in my life.
The Realization That Changed Everything
As time passed, and I had done real emotional work and started healing from the inside out, I finally understood what was going on:
Porn wasn’t the issue. It was a symptom.
What I was really addicted to was escape. Alcohol, drugs, porn, food. It was all the same.
When I was disconnected—from myself, my emotions, my relationships, my purpose—I reached for anything that felt safe and controllable. Something that gave the illusion of intimacy without the risk of rejection or vulnerability.
And I wasn’t the only one.
Recent studies suggest that compulsive porn use is often less about sexual desire and more about regulating emotions — anxiety, stress, loneliness, even boredom. According to one study, 56% of people who consider themselves "porn addicts" say they use it primarily to deal with emotional pain or stress.
Porn was an escape hatch from the loneliness I didn’t want to feel. A temporary hit of dopamine in a life that lacked depth.
What I See in Other Men
I share this not just because it’s my story, but because I see it mirrored in the lives of so many other men I work with.
Men who seem strong and put together on the outside. Guys who are successful, disciplined, maybe even sober — but still feel isolated. Still feel like no one really sees them. And still find themselves going back to something they don’t fully understand, don’t feel great about, and don’t know how to stop.
The common thread? Disconnection.
From their emotions. From their partners. From their purpose. From real intimacy.
And it’s not just about the individual impact — research shows that compulsive porn use is linked to higher rates of relationship dissatisfaction, communication breakdown, and reduced sexual intimacy.
What Actually Helped
What finally shifted things for me wasn’t just trying harder to stop. It wasn’t accountability apps or filters or punishing myself with guilt.
It was learning to connect again.
The more I worked on my intimacy issues — with myself, with my partner, with the people around me — the less I even thought about porn or any other coping mechanism. The need for it started to fade because I wasn’t trying to escape anymore.
I was finally learning how to feel.
How to sit with discomfort. How to be seen. How to be real.
And when I started experiencing real intimacy — not just physical, but emotional, spiritual, relational — the cheap substitutes just didn’t hold the same power anymore.
So Let’s Talk About It
I’m not here to judge anyone’s behavior. This isn’t about moralizing or trying to tell people what’s right or wrong. But I am saying that if porn is playing a bigger role in your life or relationship than you want it to, the answer probably isn’t just “stop watching it.”
The better question is: Where am I disconnected?
From my body?
From my emotions?
From my partner?
From my sense of purpose or belonging?
Because what I’ve seen — in my own life and in others — is this:
When we’re connected, we don’t crave escape.
When we feel seen and safe, we don’t need to numb out.
When we experience real intimacy, we stop settling for the illusion of it.
The problem isn’t porn. It’s the disconnection that leads us there in the first place. And the solution? It’s not just abstinence.
It’s reconnection.
