My Story

My Story

This blog exists because I am rebuilding a life that fell apart — not all at once, but piece by piece. Some of it was my doing. Some of it was done to me. Most of it is complicated.

I am a father. I am a man in recovery. I am someone who has been incarcerated, homeless, estranged, and deeply ashamed — and I am also someone who is still standing.

Where things broke

A little over three years ago, my life changed in ways I never imagined. Elements of my sex addiction led to serious legal trouble in the United States. That period cost me my freedom, my reputation, and much of my sense of self.

My addiction was no longer something I could manage or hide. It interfered with my daily life — I missed appointments, showed up late to work, and made decisions that harmed the people I love most. It affected my relationships, especially with my children, and it changed how the world sees me — and how I see myself.

I want to be clear about something important.

I have never struggled with substance abuse. When I talk about sobriety on this blog, I am talking about my recovery from sex addiction. For me, sobriety means abstaining from pornography and sexual immorality. That is the line I live by. Anything else would be dishonest.

This distinction matters — not to minimize what I’ve done, but to be truthful about what I’m actually fighting.

The parts that go deeper

Sex addiction didn’t come from nowhere.

As part of my healing journey, I attended group counselling for men who were sexually abused as children. That experience forced me to confront things I had buried for decades. It was painful, humbling, and necessary. I began to understand how trauma shaped my coping mechanisms long before I had words for them.

I also started individual counselling to work through my emotional struggles — anxiety, shame, grief, and the constant internal narrative that tells me I’m not enough.

Another lifelong struggle I carry is my relationship with food.

I eat when I’m bored. I eat when I’m anxious. I eat when I’m nervous. I always have. This has been with me for as long as I can remember, and it has deeply affected how I see myself. I often feel ugly because of it. This is not a past issue — it is ongoing, and I’m still learning how to face it with honesty instead of self-hatred.

The last year: progress and loss

The past year has been a mix of forward steps and painful setbacks.

I worked as a bicycle courier with Uber Eats — long days, physical exhaustion, and the quiet dignity of earning my own way. I also took a part-time job as a cashier at Wendy’s. Neither job was glamorous, but both mattered. They reminded me that rebuilding starts with showing up.

I applied for and was accepted into Better Jobs Ontario for an HVAC program that begins in March 2026. That acceptance felt like hope — tangible, earned hope. I plan to write more about that journey on the blog.

But not everything moved forward.

My relationship with my oldest daughter broke down completely this year. We are no longer in contact. That loss sits with me every day. There is no clean resolution, no inspirational bow to tie around it — just grief, regret, and the ongoing work of learning how to live with both responsibility and love.

Why I write

I write this blog because it gives me a place to release my thoughts and feelings — a space where I don’t have to pretend that everything is okay when it isn’t.

I also write in the hope that someone going through something similar might see themselves in these words and feel less alone. As far as I can tell, not many people read this blog. But to those who do, I hope that something here is helpful to you in some small way.

This blog isn’t about having answers. It’s about telling the truth while I’m still in the middle of the work.