On the outside, I am the decent, well-composed, God-fearing gentleman. People look at me and encourage their wards to be like me. Society would call me the best fit for mankind. But behind closed doors, if you knew exactly what I am, you would shiver. And it has been eight good years of this lifestyle.

My journey didn’t start with curiosity. It started with a physical sensation when I was just a child in primary school. I used to experience a burning in my anal region from spicy foods or constipation. I later researched and found out that the anal canal is packed with sensory nerves involved in sexual response. Back then, to relieve the discomfort, I’d apply light pressure to myself. I wasn’t even an adolescent yet, but that “relief” became a pleasurable ritual I did whenever I was idle.

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By junior high school, the habit had changed. I had a crush on a classmate, but being the “holy boy,” I couldn’t express it. I’d watch my peers at school events, then go home and replay those images in my mind. Then the wet dreams started, and my first actual release. That was the day I entered the world of internet dark films, starting from normal videos and eventually growing into leaks and hours of what some call gooning.

The guilt has been eating me alive. In senior high school, I tried everything to stop. I fasted every week on what I called my “Soul Day.” But the battle felt deep. Every time I fasted, I’d have very intense dreams and wake up feeling defeated. I confided in a female friend. She tried to help me, but things went south. I started using thoughts of her when I wanted to be “free.” I started hunting for triggers in public, spotting waist beads or specific body parts, just to store those images for my sessions at night.

I finally thought I found my saving grace in tertiary school when I met a lady who was everything I ever wanted. I told her the whole truth. For the first time, I stayed clean for six months. But my obsession became my downfall. I became so fixated on that connection that I pushed boundaries when she wasn’t in the mood. I lost her. When I found out months later that she had moved on to someone else, I went into a deep depression. I went back to my addiction, even worse than before, even using her old pictures.

Now, I am doing my National Service, and the cycle is repeating. I met someone new and told her my struggle, but she backed away, saying she experienced spiritual attacks in her dreams after we spoke about it.

I am in a total dilemma. I am fighting an addiction that started before I even knew what sex was. My parents are divorced and remarried. I can’t confide in them for fear they will tell my stepparents or shatter the “holy” image they have of me. I am torn between chasing my career, trying to be a gentleman, and the loneliness of wanting a companion who won’t be scared off by my baggage.

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I’ve tried to stop. I’ve made journals. I’ve deleted apps. But every time I try to turn a new leaf, I relapse.

Is it possible to truly break free from this after so many years? Or have I ruined my chances of ever having a normal, healthy relationship?

—Safira

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