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Is Your Sex Life Stealing Your Spirit?

I used to think I was under spiritual attack. My peace was gone, my focus shattered, and God felt a million miles away. I’d pray, read my Bible, and still feel utterly empty. I blamed everything and everyone, convinced some external force was against me. But then, a harsh truth hit me: I wasn't under spiritual attack; I was just addicted to orgasm. My soul wasn't "confused"—it was drowning in lust.

Let me break down what I’ve learned, because maybe, just maybe, you're experiencing something similar.

The Hidden Costs of Casual Connections

I realized I kept opening "portals" with women who carried their own burdens. Every woman I slept with gave me more than just pleasure; I took on her pain, her trauma, her curses. That’s why my peace vanished. I wasn’t broken—I was bound. It wasn't about love or connection; it was about fleeting satisfaction that left a lasting, negative imprint.

The Emptiness of Self-Gratification

I’d masturbate daily, calling it "stress relief." But the truth was, my soul was starving. My focus was dead, my energy drained. I was trading real power for pixels, sacrificing my vitality for a momentary release that always left me feeling profoundly empty. It was a vicious cycle: the more I indulged, the less I had for anything meaningful.

When Lust Drowns Out God's Voice

I found myself falling asleep with my Bible open, yet I could scroll for hours on OnlyFans or other platforms. I’d lament, "God feels far," but the reality was, I had left Him for a three-minute orgasm. My desire for immediate gratification was louder than any spiritual longing. It was a tough pill to swallow, but I realized lust had become my real idol, and I was worshipping it daily. I claimed I was "fighting temptation," but I was really scheduling it, saving stories, and sending "you up?" texts at 1 AM. I didn't need deliverance; I needed discipline. 

The Illusion of Being "Cursed"

I used to blame "generational demons" or "village people" for my struggles. But it wasn’t some external curse; it was my addiction to sexual pleasure that was weakening my spirit and destroying my calling. I realized that until I mastered my lust, life would keep mastering me. A man who can’t control his urges will never control his future. Lust turns lions into lapdogs. My weakness wasn't my body; it was my lack of control.

My Body, My Brothel?

I had made my body a brothel, and then wondered why peace wouldn't stay. Power doesn't dwell where there’s perversion. I had to choose: close those doors or keep bleeding in silence. I also confused lust for love, entering soul-ties under the guise of affection. But it was just spiritual bleeding, emotional confusion, and physical addiction—not love, but bondage. My prayers felt hollow because my browser history was louder than my pleas. My tabs betrayed my tongue. I wasn’t waiting on God; I was waiting for nightfall, so I could fall again. Real repentance, I learned, is proven by restraint.

Boys Have Urges, Men Have Control

I used to hide behind the excuse "men have needs." But that’s a boy's excuse. Boys have urges; men have control. I’m not an animal, and my manhood isn’t measured by body counts. My spirit was weak because I fed my flesh too much—binging on sex, porn, DMs, reels—and then wondered why I couldn’t stay strong. My real enemy wasn’t the devil; it was my lack of boundaries.

I learned that one night with the wrong woman can cost me six months of progress, emptying my life faster than bullets. I had to choose wisely or bleed silently. My future wife, my kids, my legacy—all depended on how I handled my urges today.

FINAL WARNING: You're not weak; you're misled. You're not broken; you're distracted. The war isn’t around you; it’s within you. Sex isn’t evil, but when it rules you, it ruins you. Reclaim your spirit. Starve your flesh. Control your mind. Become the man your future needs—not the boy your urges raised.

 

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