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My dad couldn’t work his way around a computer and honestly, I didn’t have the patience to teach him. So, I was surprised to open it up one day, only to find the remnants of images of naked women posing for the man behind the camera.

photo credit: shutterstock

photo credit: shutterstock


My stomach dropped. My heart sank. Disgust overwhelmed me. Memories filled my mind, again. Memories I convinced myself I had blocked.
How could my father look at this trashy stuff? How could he use what belonged to me to entertain himself with such filth? In that moment, I so desperately wished I wasn’t related to him. There was an instant in my heart I desired to never know who my father was.
However, the truth, or what I saw as the truth, hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was just like my father. 

His shameful secret had been mine, too. A secret I had only told to one other person, and I hadn’t revealed the complete truth to her thanks to the defeating lies of shame and condemnation. As years have passed, I have opened the door to those secrets with safe people in my life.
Those pictures were all too familiar. The images of strange faces doing things with their bodies that became ordinary to me. I remember shame hitting me again, as I judged him with every ounce of my being for being a disgusting pervert.

But I was no different. I just didn’t get caught. 

Pornography had controlled my life since I was a little girl. I once thought it normal, until 2006, when I promised God I would never look at it again.
I ask myself why I’m writing this, but something in me says it needs to be done. I just sprung out of bed with this memory. Perhaps I’m writing for my own benefit, or God has plans to heal someone else with it. I fear being vulnerable with you about my past, but God is bigger.
I’m realizing as I write this, that this part of my past is still causing fear for my future, especially in the way I view marriage and sex.

My view of sex is skewed. 

My mind convinces me it’s dirty and it will always be that way.
My fears remind me that I will never be a good wife, because I won’t be physically available to my husband the way a wife needs to be. I fear I won’t understand romance or safety with him.
I’m afraid of what those images that seem to be branded into my mind will cause my husband to think of me. I convince myself for this reason that I’m destined to be single. Unlovable. Untouchable.
I buy into the myth that I will never truly understand a healthy sexual relationship and no man deserves to enter into a marriage with me, because our lives will be filled with fear on my end and frustration on his.

I cringe at what Satan has tried to steal from me. 

He used boys to steal my innocence as a child. He used a “friend” to put the word rape into action in my life. He used pornography at the age of six years old to distort my view of healthy sexual intimacy.
I want to fight. I do. I pray in this moment and ask God to show me. I thank Him for revealing this issue to me at a deeper level. I pray for a husband who will show me grace. I know I may need more of it than the average wife.
I want to believe. I do believe. I want to. I try. I will believe.
Will you join me?

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