As a therapist, I believe that a shame-and-surveillance strategy misses the mark, and that there are more constructive ways to help men struggling with their porn use. So what does this look like in the therapy room? Jacob talked about using porn to blow off steam when stressed. He described feeling deeply guilty and ashamed after masturbating, and it came through in how he viewed himself. He took solace in listening to major podcasters who convinced him that porn was ravaging his brain. But by joining the ranks that viewed porn as an addiction, Jacob found an enemy that was external: the porn industry. Ultimately that made it more difficult to look inward.
The overuse of porn, like most compulsive behaviors, serves an internal function. For many, it provides emotional regulation, stress relief, a source of pleasure, and a way to avoid thoughts or feelings that are overwhelming. That behavior makes sense when we actually examine in therapy what the behavior is a response to.
When a man accepts the addiction framing, the goal becomes abstinence, rather than addressing the underlying issues that the behavior was soothing. The result is predictable. Cycles of abstinence, relapse, shame, and back to abstinence can create a perpetual struggle that keeps the focus on the behavior, and not on the real needs. It often forecloses on the questions that could actually help. That said, I also work with men in 12-step programs who feel that abstinence is a part of their journey. I find that the labels are less important than the motivation. If going cold-turkey is part of what helps you turn inward, that’s a valid place to begin doing the work as well. The problem isn’t abstinence, it’s shame.
For instance, when working with clients who want to better manage their porn use, I ask: What is it doing for you and what are you worried you might feel if it was taken away? Men who make major progress aren’t the ones who figure out the perfect abstinence strategy. It’s those who understand the actual function of it. That usually requires exploring the emotional states that precede porn use, identifying what the use is providing them, and seeking alternative options to meet the same emotional needs. It also tends to lead to deeper questions. For many men, that means reflecting on what they carry from older relationships, internalized shame, socialized beliefs about women and sex, and early life experiences. Many clients end up exploring histories of attachment wounds, and parents who were either distant or conditionally loving. Ultimately, healing some of those deeper issues can alleviate the pain that porn distracts from. The goal needn’t be cutting it out of your life entirely. It’s the ability to make a grounded decision to use porn for genuine enjoyment rather than to avoid something else.
Jacob got there. Not through hasty diagnosis or a surveillance app, but by getting curious about the hurt he was subconsciously managing, and what he needed beyond instant sexual pleasure to heal those wounds. He began to get to know his emotional makeup, learned how to show himself compassion, while using adaptive coping skills to manage when he felt activated or overwhelmed. Today, he watches porn less, but doesn’t feel riddled with shame when he does, and doesn’t find that his porn use impedes his daily life. Arriving at the diagnosis of addiction might seem like an obvious solution at first, but more often than not, that leads to a path of shame rather than self-inquiry.
Matthew Willner, LCSW, is a psychotherapist practicing in New York, New Jersey, and Colorado, where he specializes in working with men.
*Jacob is a composite and does not include any personally identifiable client information.
