Addiction doesn’t just take your freedom, it hijacks your soul, it embeds silent lies addicts believe so deeply they feel like gospel. Sinking into you whether you spot them or not, whether you say them loud, or swallow them whole. I’ve walked this path, and I’ve seen the four core feelings every addict wrestles with. They’re the unseen anchors dragging us down: “I do bad things, so I am a bad person”; “If you really knew me, you’d hate me and leave”; “The only one who can take care of me is me”; and, “I need this addiction to survive.” These aren’t just fleeting thoughts, they’re the pulse of shame and fear keeping us stuck. But there’s a truth stronger than the lies, a hope that pulls us out, and I’ve seen it change everything.
First, there’s, “I do bad things, so I am a bad person.” It’s a gut kick that lands every time the addiction wins. This often looks like a guy sitting in silence after another night lost to porn. Head bowed, muttering to himself, “I’m worthless.” He can’t separate what he does from who he is. Every stumble screams that he’s rotten at the core. That lie digs in, convincing you your failures define you, that grace can’t reach that far.
Then comes, “If you really knew me, you’d hate me and leave.” It’s a quiet dread, a barricade against the world. This oftentimes looks like a man sharp in his church clothes, all smiles, but hiding a battle with escorts or late-night hookups. Inside, he’s certain that if anyone saw the receipts, the secrets, they’d run. “No one stays for this,” he thinks. That fear of being exposed builds a moat around his heart, turning love into something to dodge.
Next is, “The only one who can take care of me is me.” It feels like toughness but lands like despair. This oftentimes looks like a guy hardened by life. Family gone, friends faded, he’s leaning on whiskey or pills to cope. “I’ve got this,” he growls, even as the bottles stack up. He’s learned to trust no one, not even God, and that lie locks him in a solitary cell, believing he’s his own savior.
Finally, there’s, “I need this addiction to get me through life.” It’s the loudest whisper, the one that keeps you coming back. This often looks like a man chasing the rush of gambling or porn, eyes wild, saying, “It’s the only thing holding me together.” He’s numb from a dead-end job or a broken past, and he swears his addiction is his lifeline. But it’s a parasite, draining him while pretending to prop him up.
These four feelings; they pulse through every addict’s veins, whether we name them or not. I’ve felt them too: the weight of my screw-ups, the panic of being seen, the grip on control, the delusion that my fix was my friend. They’re not just ideas; they’re a riptide, pulling you under, aware or not. But here’s what I’ve found, these anchors holding me down; they don’t have to rule you. There’s a way through, and it’s not about willpower or walls. It’s about being known and loved right where you are.
The Bible slashes these lies with truth that sets you free. That first one, “I’m a bad person”? Romans 5:8 says God loved us while we were still a mess, sending Jesus to prove our worth isn’t our track record. I’ve seen guys in my circles realize this when brothers didn’t ditch them—they prayed through the relapses. The second, “You’d hate me”? Psalm 139 says God knows every dark corner and doesn’t turn away. I’ve watched men spill their secrets; escorts, porn, whatever, and find arms open, not doors shut. The third, “Only I can save me”? Matthew 11:28 calls us to rest in Jesus, not ourselves. I’ve seen the toughest guys soften when they let God and others carry the load. And the fourth, “I need this”? Philippians 4:19 promises God meets our real needs, not the addiction. I’ve watched men drop their crutches and stand taller in grace.
Freedom starts when you let these lies be exposed; not to break you, but to heal you. It’s raw, messy, but worth it. Real, healthy community jumps into your ditch, shovels swinging, digging through the muck with you. I’ve lived it. You’re not bad; you’re loved. You’re not hated; you’re wanted. You don’t have to do it alone; there’s help. You don’t need the addiction; you need grace. The lies lose their teeth when you’re known. Fully and truly loved. That’s the hope that lifts you up, the truth that sets you free.
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