From Roe v. Wade to lesbianism to birth control, women’s liberation movements have made it their platform to give women a right over their own bodies.

Some good and some not so good have come out if it. But fast forward to today, and we see that women are once again in a fight for liberation.

But this time, it is a personal fight and one that is more often fought all alone. In the last ten years especially, our culture of sexually provocative advertising and media have aided in the trans- formation of women from sexually submissive into sexually aggressive...and sexually obsessed.

As such, this is resulting in a rapidly growing addiction to pornography and sexual promiscuity among women today.

In the New York Times last year an article was written about me, groups I lead, Dirty Girls Ministries, and this whole issue of women’s addiction to pornography.

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I’ve woken to a cloudy disposition and wearied motivation today, feeling body deep in a pocket of depression, whereby compulsions feel like my only way out. Feasts on narcotics of control, productivity, food, release, sleep, isolation, and so forth, feel like my only saving grace. And yet, God seems to be drawing me toward something more—or maybe less.

By His grace, I can only surmise, I’ve lost my voice. Never before plagued by such a condition, it’s a new state of depravity for me, as one prone to words, and “explaining” my way out-of, into, or through modes of my true self, and situation. Who am I without my voice? How do I represent myself? How do I show who I am to people, or talk my way through the pains of my soul this hour? Or could it be, that there really is another way—that really is an I beyond me without a voice, or me as an addict, or depressed saint?

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My friend told me she was an addict today.

I was so proud of her, not because she confessed some profane form of activity, but because she cooperated with some unpleasant part of being human.

None of us escapes addiction. And though some are more identifiable, like porn, food, or shopping, others are heinously scripted into our DNA, like self-promotion, ease and vanity.

My friend and I realized that to sever her addiction altogether would mean severing parts of her that were good, like desire. And yet, fully submitting to its patters didn't feel right either, so we decided there must be an alternative route. Seems like we can either turn away from our addictions, or we can face the truth of them, and hope to God love exists in that vicinity.

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woe to those who attempt to outrun their addictions: will we slow down and seek help?

Addictions simply can’t be outrun.

They will not be silenced by noise, exhausted by activity, or intimidated by sacrifice.

Slow down.

Come in out of the noise.

Face the ugly.

Now IS better than later.

Later may be a little too late…for you, for those you love, and for your full potential in this generation.

Pause.

Get help.

Freedom has never been free.

He paid in blood. You may have to pay in tears, postponed dreams, and humiliation.

The fallen would beg you from experience to pay now instead of later.

I just had my first class for the semester at Vanguard University. I teach a class on Addictive Behavior in their graduate psychology program. It's a fun class to teach, but I've noticed an interesting thing over the past five years since I started teaching.

Tonight is Christmas Eve and I find myself facing the first Christmas in recent memory, maybe ever, that I wish was over before it began. I'm not bah humbug, nor am I falling apart sad. I am just not feeling it. Not interested. Indifferent.

Part of it has to do with the loss of both of my parents this year.  Those of you who may have read my piece on Stages of Grief know that they died at ages 67 and 65 within 20 days of one another in April.  He from a stroke and she from cancer.  Loss and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile.

Part of it has to do with watching one of my children struggle with the first sober Christmas and all that entails for the addict that is turning their life around. I remember that feeling from my first sober Christmas a number of years ago and I wish this child well.  Sobriety, depression and Christmas can be difficult to reconcile. 

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