I was born feeling unwanted. That’s not a bitter statement—just the reality of being adopted. Before I even had words, I carried the weight of rejection deep in my bones.
I came into the world in the late ‘60s, grew up in the ‘70s, and came of age in the ‘80s. My adoptive mother, unable to have children of her own, poured everything into me—not just love, but need. I was supposed to fill something in her, to make her whole as a woman and a mother. But when I failed to meet those impossible expectations, she lashed out—emotionally controlling, smothering, and manipulative.
My father was a good man—loving, nurturing—but passive. He didn’t protect me from her. He looked the other way when she broke me down.
A Boy Out of Place
I didn’t fit in with boys. I was sensitive, softer, more comfortable around girls. When I tried to step into their world, it didn’t go well. I was teased, pushed out, called a “girl,” then later, “gay.” It stuck.
At nine years old, I found my first adult magazine. By twelve, I was hooked on porn and daily release—fueling my fantasies with the same boys who bullied me. I had no sense that this was wrong. My family and social circles weren’t religious. While they didn’t encourage it, they didn’t condemn being gay, so I figured, this must be who I am.
Around the same time, I discovered alcohol. By my late teens, I had a serious drinking problem, and by college, I added cannabis into the mix. Substances dulled the ache, made me feel okay for a little while.
Spiritually, I was agnostic, but God’s presence was never completely absent. Even in my childhood, I’d talk to Him, feel Him, though I never spoke about it. But Christianity? That was never on the table. I associated Jesus with judgmental, repressed people I wanted nothing to do with.
Years of Searching in the Wrong Places
In college, I found Eastern spirituality—yoga, psychology, self-discovery. I figured if I could just understand myself enough, I’d be healed. But nothing actually changed.
Post-college, I started seeking relationships with men. I had three long-term relationships, each lasting about three years, but they never held meaning beyond the first six months. What I was looking for? I never found it.
I gave up dating altogether by my 40s. But porn escalated, cannabis use deepened, and I buried myself in New Age spirituality—channeled material, law of attraction, anything that felt like truth.
That’s when I first encountered a channeled version of Jesus—enough to make me curious about Him as a spiritual teacher, though I still had no concept of sin, salvation, or my own need for either.
Even with no moral objections to porn, I started noticing that it was killing me inside. I felt the damage, even if I couldn’t yet name why.
God Starts Chipping Away
2018 was a turning point. I started following conservative accounts on social media—something I never thought I’d do. Through them, I was exposed to Christian voices that actually made sense. For the first time, I saw integrity, peace, and strength in Christians that I admired.
By late 2022, something was shifting. I hadn’t had a painful crush in a while. I was feeling a strange pull toward something purer—though I couldn’t name it yet.
I’ve always had a deep love of music, and music is where it began.. I was searching for something clean, something that spoke to my soul. That led me to Elvis Presley’s gospel music, which led me to other Christian songs. I didn’t know what salvation meant, but I felt the call.
Around the same time, I hit a wall with porn. I was done.
That’s when I found a post about a Christian men’s porn recovery program. I had no idea why, but I felt a strong, undeniable pull to join. I wasn’t even a Christian yet, but I jumped in anyway.
The Moment It All Made Sense
In that program, I found brotherhood like I’d never known before. Christian men, fighting alongside each other, leaning on Christ. That’s where I first truly heard the Gospel.
I started reading C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity—and that’s when the walls came down. It wasn’t a slow build anymore. It was like the final puzzle piece snapped into place.
I got it.
Everything clicked at once—my sin, my need for salvation, Christ’s finished work on the cross. It wasn’t about trying harder, meditating more, or healing myself through self-discovery.
Jesus had already done it.
And in that moment, my answer was YES.
I accepted Christ with my whole heart. And I’ve never doubted it since.
A New Creation
Porn lost its grip on me almost immediately. Not by willpower—but by His power. My new brothers in Christ walked with me, helping me unlearn the lies I’d believed my whole life about masculinity, identity, and belonging.
I got invited to church and was baptized on my very first Sunday.
At that point, I had already cut down my cannabis use significantly but had no intention of quitting completely. I figured I’d keep a small dose of nightly edibles. But after baptism, the Holy Spirit moved in, and even that small amount felt foreign in me. I couldn’t explain it—only that it was like God was pushing it out.
So I let it go.
It’s been over 2.5 years since I’ve touched porn or pot. Not by my strength—but by His.
Still in the Process, but Fully His
I don’t claim to have arrived. I’m still untangling from same-sex attraction, still walking out this process. But I am a new creation in Christ.
And when I look back at my story—at every twist, every detour, every moment I spent searching—I see something I couldn’t see then:
God was after me the whole time.
He let me run. He let me seek peace in everything but Him. He let me come to the end of myself.
And then, when the time was right—He caught me.
I don’t know exactly where this road ends. But I know who’s leading me now.
And that’s all I need.
CovenantRoad 
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