Radical Honesty – Porn

Content Warning: This post discusses pornography, sexual themes, and personal relationship struggles, including references to early exposure to sexual content. Reader discretion advised.

When I talk about radical honesty, I don’t mean the kind where you blurt out every passing thought and call it “just being real.” I mean the kind that takes your private shadows — the parts of yourself you’d rather not face — and drags them into the light. Not because it feels good, but because it’s the only way to stop them from running your life in the dark.

I’ve learned that radical honesty is the first step. Then comes radical acceptance — facing the fact that this thing you’ve just exposed is real, that it’s part of you right now. From there, the path moves toward surrender: giving up the fight to pretend you’re someone else, or to control the parts of life you can’t. And if you stick with it, if you keep telling the truth and keep surrendering, something shifts. Gratitude starts to grow in the space where shame used to live. And gratitude, in turn, makes you more able to let love in — to actually receive it when it’s offered.

That’s how you level up in life — not by chasing the next big win or waiting for someone else to fix you, but by knowing yourself so deeply that you can’t keep living on autopilot.

Which brings me to the uncomfortable example I’m using today: my relationship with porn.

In The Cancer Diet, I wrote about my childhood — about how my brother and I grew up in a world that wasn’t exactly built for gentle transitions into adulthood. He was older, wilder, and had access to things I didn’t. He opened doors before I even knew what was behind them. Sometimes that meant music, sometimes trouble, and sometimes — like in this case — things I was too young to understand. My first exposure to anything sexual came through him. One day, there it was: images, magazines, videos. And suddenly, there was no un-seeing it.

It stuck. Not just the images, but the feelings — curiosity, excitement, confusion, shame. Over time, that cocktail became a habit. Porn was always there. When I was lonely, it was there. When I was stressed, it was there. Even when I had relationships, it was still there.

And here’s a harder truth: it was part of why my marriage failed. Lindsay found out about my relationship with it, and it hurt her deeply. It wasn’t just that I looked at porn — it was what it represented to her. Distance. Secrecy. A lack of readiness to deal with certain events in my life that were already straining us. I didn’t know how to bridge that gap, and the wedge only grew. Looking back, I can see how my inability to confront this part of myself earlier cost us connection we couldn’t get back.

Radical honesty means I say this plainly: I still use it. I don’t like that I do. I would rather have a healthy, mutual sexual connection with someone who wanted me for me. But I’ve spent much of my life believing I’m gross or unwanted, and porn has been the easier option. It never rejects you. It never makes you wonder if you’re enough.

But porn isn’t harmless. Masturbation is human; it’s not going anywhere. Porn is different. It rewires your brain. It sets expectations reality can’t match. It feeds you fantasy while slowly dulling your hunger for the real thing. And if you’re already disconnected from the world, that gap gets wider.

Radical acceptance means I stop pretending this isn’t part of my life. Surrender means I stop bargaining with myself — no more “I’ll quit tomorrow” or “just once in a while.” Gratitude means I can say: I’m glad I’ve named this, because naming it means I can’t unknow it anymore. And letting love in? That’s the slowest, hardest step — because it means believing that even with this flaw, I’m still worth loving.

This isn’t just about porn. It’s about any private vice, wound, or pattern that keeps you from the life you want. We all have our version — the thing we’d rather keep in the dark. Radical honesty is how you drag it into the light. Radical acceptance is how you stop lying to yourself about it. Surrender is how you stop fighting battles you can’t win. Gratitude is what grows in the cleared-out space. And letting love in is what happens when you finally make room for it.

So here’s my challenge — not to stop doing whatever your “thing” is, but to stop ignoring why you do it.
Ask yourself:

• What’s really behind this habit or behavior?
• What itch is it scratching?
• What pain is it covering?
• What part of me is it keeping small, safe, and stuck?

Because life isn’t just meant to be survived. It’s meant to be lived — fully, awake, and aware.
And the better you know yourself, the better you can show up for the people around you. The better partner, friend, lover, and human you can be.

Leveling up isn’t about perfection. It’s about paying attention — to the real stuff, the uncomfortable stuff — and using it as fuel to grow into your next version. Every time you do, you bring the rest of your life up with you.