When I first found out my son was using porn (I am calling it that because it’s an addiction and I think it fits the situation), I would have placed money on the fact that an alien had just abducted me and beamed me from my real life into another dimension. I mean I could not have been more shocked.
Shock can be one of the stages of grief, and I believe I experienced most of the stages . . . probably within days of hearing this strange confession come from my fourteen-year-old’s mouth. I went from shock to denial quickly during that initial conversation, continually asking my son questions so I could grasp the reality of what he was saying. This was difficult partially because his main concern was dodging a felony charge (a bogus warning on his screen scared him into confessing), but my brainwaves were trying to absorb the accuracy of this ridiculous situation.
I bring up the stages of grief because I definitely experienced a loss, which triggered grief. The son I knew no longer existed. He forever vanished. Within a matter of minutes, he became someone different to me. And I was grieving — I am still grieving — the loss of the son I thought I knew, the loss of the young man he could have been, the loss of his innocence.
It’s important to me to live in reality, even when there are costs and sacrifices involved. But that does not negate the deep grief that comes with knowing the truth. So, while I didn’t realize it at the time, I look back and recognize that I traveled through the stages like others do when suffering a loss. I was angry, mostly at myself for being so naive and blind to what was going on around me. I was also angry at my son for deceiving me. I was sad and depressed. I didn’t sleep well for months, getting up in the middle of the night to check on my son. I tried to take control of the situation, thinking that if I intervened I could somehow stop the madness.
I can’t pinpoint a moment, but eventually I settled into the new normal, which corresponds to the acceptance stage of grief. That does not mean all is well. It does not mean my son no longer deals with a battle that will be his for a lifetime. It also does not mean I never bounce around the other stages of grief. I still do. Not as often.
There is healing in the grief process. There is healing in recognizing that you are grieving a loss. There is healing in naming it and facing it. Many of us suffer alone because of the stigma associated with this addiction and because we do not want our children to be labeled. So if you need it, I give you permission to grieve. Spend some time analyzing what you have lost so you can find your new normal.
Are you grieving? I welcome your comments and questions.
About the author
For more about Barb, visit the About page. For information on Barb's book, Sexpectations: Helping the Next Generation Navigate Healthy Relationships, visit the Book page.
Thank you for your blog and openness. I am somewhere between Depression and Testing…. well, to be more accurate, I’m forcing the testing while still being depressed! I SO wish I found you and the christian resources from Covenant Eyes when I was in the Shock stage 6 months ago. I haven’t handled things very well and don’t think my son trusts me when I say I am here for him and I care about his health and wellbeing. But alas, I am where I am and I can’t change that. I’m trying to move forward.
Lynn,
Thank you for sharing. I’m not sure there is a “right” way to handle these things. The sheer magnitude makes it difficult to handle gracefully. My heart breaks for you and your son.
Let me encourage you to continue seeking God on how to love your son best — through words and actions. I hope it helps to know there are others that have been where you are. I will be praying for you and your son and your relationship. Feel free to contact me privately through the contact page if you want any specific advice or just to chat.