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On July 20, 2025, I made a decision that changed the direction of my life. I committed to living lust-free. No more pornography. No more masturbation. No more letting my mind spiral into fantasies that only left me feeling hollow afterward. That day marked a turning point—a clean break from habits that had silently been draining my energy, my focus, and my sense of self.
Lust is often treated like it’s harmless—even healthy. You hear it everywhere: “It’s natural,” “Everyone does it,” “It’s just part of being human.” And sure, we’re wired with desire, but that doesn’t mean we’re supposed to be enslaved by it. For me, lust wasn’t a harmless indulgence. It was a quiet thief. It robbed me of time, peace of mind, and the ability to be fully present in the world around me.
Looking back, I can see how deeply rooted it was in sensory craving. What we see, hear, smell, taste, touch—and even what we think—can feel pleasant for a moment. But that feeling never lasts. It fades. And when it does, the mind starts chasing the next hit, the next fix, the next fantasy. That craving becomes a habit. That habit becomes an attachment. And that attachment, in time, becomes suffering.
That’s what lust became for me: suffering disguised as pleasure. I wasn’t watching explicit content because I was fulfilled—I was watching it because I wasn’t. It didn’t matter how many times I gave in. The relief never stayed. There was always the next urge. The next scroll. The next image. Always something more, but never anything enough.
I started noticing something important: everything pleasurable is fleeting. The delicious taste, the perfect body, the thrilling scene—they all pass. They show up, hit their peak, then fade. But the mind doesn’t like that. It doesn’t want the good feeling to end. So it keeps reaching, keeps scrolling, keeps craving. It becomes a cycle. You chase more. You get less. And the dissatisfaction only grows.
I didn’t have a dramatic breakdown. There was no single event that “woke me up.” But there was a slow, steady realization: I was done living in that loop. I was tired of feeding something that only made me more empty. So I stopped.
It wasn’t easy at first. Lust is persistent. It shows up uninvited—when you’re bored, tired, stressed, or lonely. But every time I said no, every time I sat with the discomfort and let it pass instead of acting on it, I got stronger. And with time, the fog began to lift.
I filled that space with things that gave me lasting energy. I read more. I worked out with more focus. I deepened my relationships—not in a romantic or sexual sense, but by being more present. I started respecting my mind and body instead of giving them over to something that left me feeling worse.
Living lust-free isn’t about becoming a monk or pretending to be pure. It’s about self-respect. It’s about refusing to be controlled by urges that don’t align with who you want to be. It’s about breaking the loop of endless craving that never actually satisfies.
There’s so much freedom in that. There’s peace in not needing to constantly feed an itch. And there’s power in saying, “I don’t need that anymore.”
If you’re stuck in that cycle, know that you’re not broken. You’re not weak. But you do have a choice. You can stop feeding the thing that drains you. You can pull back the curtain, see it for what it really is, and walk away.
I’ve been clean since July 20, 2025. No more lust. No more numbing myself with momentary pleasure. No more giving in to habits that steal more than they give.
And I’m never going back.
Alberta, Canada
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