This weekend was about two things, firstly starting back at work with a new job on Monday and the second was coming to the decision that twelve-step recovery is the way for me to go.

On Friday I had a therapy session and I felt like it was a good day, I had reached two milestones of acceptance in my recovery journey, firstly I finally felt that my pain and my past sufferings are not things I can erase or run from but are truly a part of me, the good, the bad the ugly, all part of the same me and there is no burying the pain in a box in an attic anymore, not an option! Secondly, I accepted the reality that this struggle against pornography is going to be one I face for the rest of my days. Everyone has their battles and this one is mine. As much as I feel like Frodo about my quest, I accept my fate.

I decided that I will own this! I will carry the knowledge of the depths to which my addiction took me, for the rest of my days, but I will no longer be consumed by it.

As the evening rolled on, my time was spent researching accountability apps, web filters, and apps for counting sobriety days.

It turns out that my post about the bubble wrap or the tightrope is a fairly accurate appraisal of the situation. The marketplace offers solutions that either lock down everything, blocking even helpful videos on porn addiction, these were filtered out just for containing the P-word in the title, and on the other end of the spectrum, it would be just too easy to get around the parameters if someone wanted to.

My thoughts turned to the day counting of one’s sobriety streak which seems to be the primary focus of NoFappers. As I set up my meagre 2-day streak on an app, I felt almost miserable that the 40-odd days following the revelation of my dark secret so quickly turned to court the galleries of “glamour” which soon jumped to hard-core videos. Sure this was more “normal” porn but I know better now, porn for me is no longer an option in any form.

I decided to turn in and went to sleep, unfortunately for me, I woke up midway through the night, and there it was, the monster under the bed.

The day, I reached out to a could-be sponsor saying I am ready to commit to the program, I had ordered my recovery bible, the big green book, and my voices of recovery readings. Had a great session and felt some real miles on the road to recovery, And later that very same night, here I was! Bump, a pothole, and then click click followed by despair, shame, and pain. I didn’t get back to sleep and the following day was one of deep misery.

In another episode of Elementary and the recovering Sherlock was about to earn his one-year chip and well, just take a look yourself.

The tears rolled down my face watching the TV show again, I have always been a Sherlock Holmes fanboy, beholding a hero so vulnerable and flawed yet so brilliant.

Then it hit me. Step One!

We admitted we were powerless over addictive sexual behaviour – that our lives had become unmanageable.

This journey of recovery isn’t linear, it isn’t a movie nor does it have a soundtrack. Being angry and feeling sorry for myself is not going to help anyone.

My higher power is going to be a little more tangible to me as I believe in God. Not in the way that I may have before but in a more meaningful existential way.

I thought of Jesus and his temptation, it came after his baptism, 40 days in the desert, no food and absolutely threaders, and here was me folding like a cheap suit. Two lessons I take from this are, firstly I am not Jesus, obviously, and secondly, neither is any other human on this planet.