Porn is Not the Enemy: Rethinking “Addiction”

I can’t tell you how many times someone has come to me saying, “I have a porn addiction.” They’re often scared, ashamed, and worried about what it means for their relationships.

First, let me say this clearly: I take those feelings seriously. If something is causing you distress, it deserves to be acknowledged with compassion. But just because a behavior feels overwhelming doesn’t always mean it qualifies as an addiction.

Addiction vs. Compulsion

When we use the word addiction, we usually mean that a behavior has taken over someone’s life to the point where it interferes with daily functioning, responsibilities, and relationships. True addictions often involve withdrawal, tolerance, and severe disruption.

More often than not, what I see is not addiction but compulsion. A compulsion can feel just as overwhelming in the moment, but it doesn’t necessarily hijack someone’s entire life. It’s a pattern of turning to something—like porn, sex, or even food—when we don’t know what else to do with our feelings.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t important. It simply means we need to name it accurately so we can work with it more effectively.

The Role of Shame

Shame is often the real culprit.

It’s easier to say “I have an addiction” than to sit with the discomfort of “I enjoy something that I’ve been taught is bad.”

More often than not, the people who come to me believing they have a “porn addiction” also come from religious or conservative backgrounds where sexuality was steeped in guilt, secrecy, or fear. When you grow up in an environment that tells you your desires are wrong, it makes sense that you’d interpret your behaviors as sinful or addictive rather than simply human.

I see this with clients who describe themselves as having a “sex addiction,” too. In almost every case, what’s really happening is shame around their desires or proclivities. They may worry their fantasies are too unconventional, or that enjoying porn makes them a bad partner. That shame can feel so heavy that the label “addiction” almost feels like a relief—because if it’s an addiction, then maybe it isn’t their fault.

But here’s the truth: there’s nothing wrong with having desires. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying porn. The real issue is shame, disconnection, or avoidance.

Porn as a Shortcut

Porn isn’t inherently harmful. In fact, it can be fun, playful, and even a healthy tool in moderation. But like anything, it can be misused.

The trouble comes when porn becomes a shortcut—a way of avoiding intimacy, vulnerability, or connection with our own bodies.

Think about it: sex with a partner requires emotional attunement. It means slowing down, considering someone else’s needs, and navigating the nuances of desire and communication. That can feel complicated—especially if a couple is already struggling with intimacy.

Porn, on the other hand, is fast and easy. It doesn’t ask anything of you beyond showing up. There’s no risk of rejection, no awkward conversations, no negotiating different turn-ons. In that sense, porn can become the “path of least resistance.”

The problem isn’t that it’s easier—it’s that over time, relying too heavily on porn can erode the skills and connection that make partnered intimacy fulfilling.

The Path Forward

When I work with someone who says they have a porn addiction, the first step is always to de-shamify their desires. No matter how unconventional their fantasies may be, we create a safe space to explore them without judgment. That process alone can feel liberating.

From there, we look at a few key areas:

• Reconnecting with the body. Porn can pull people into their heads, focusing on external stimulation instead of internal sensation. Through embodied practices, we relearn how to feel pleasure from the inside out.

• Exploring intimacy. If porn is being used to avoid challenges in a relationship, we gently bring those issues into the open. Communication, vulnerability, and curiosity become the real work.

• Reframing responsibility. The goal isn’t to eliminate porn, but to learn how to use it responsibly—so it enhances life rather than replacing it.

  
  

Porn Is Not the Enemy

Porn isn’t the enemy. Shame is the enemy. Disconnection is the enemy. Avoidance is the enemy.

By shifting the conversation away from addiction and toward compassion, embodiment, and intimacy, we can stop pathologizing pleasure and start reclaiming it as a source of joy and connection.