Through The Flame

I’m a woman. I live in Long Beach. And yes, I struggled with porn. Saying it out loud felt scary at first. But you know what? I’m not the only one. Not even close. If you want a deeper dive into what that journey can look like, this honest, first-hand review of porn addiction for women in Long Beach shows how common the struggle really is.

I tried help here in town and online. Some things worked. Some didn’t. Here’s my real review, with actual moments and small wins, and a few flops too.

The thing I kept quiet

I used porn to calm down. After work. When I felt lonely. When I felt mad. It numbed the stress from the 405, the pace of school drop-offs, and noisy nights near 4th Street. I told myself, “I can stop.” I couldn’t. Not alone. I was locked in what others call the porn-addiction cycle—binging, shame, promises to quit, then right back again.

Shame told me I was a freak. That was a lie. I learned that the hard way, and then the kind way.

What I tried in Long Beach (and how it felt)

1) A women’s support meeting near Belmont Heights

It met on a Tuesday night in a small church room. Wood chairs, bad coffee, good women. All ages. I didn’t talk the first week. I just sat and shook and listened.

• What worked: I felt seen. No “why can’t you just stop?” questions. I liked the check-ins. “What helped you this week?” felt simple and kind.
• What bugged me: Parking was tight on the street. Also, the room felt a bit churchy, which may not fit everyone. I’m fine with it, but I get it.
• Real moment: At week three, I said, “I grabbed my phone at 11:30 p.m. and then put it down.” They clapped. I cried. It felt silly and huge at the same time.

Would I go again? Yes. The face-to-face part mattered more than I thought. If you prefer a structured 12-step setting, Sex and Porn Addicts Anonymous has meetings around town too. You can also drop into online, women-friendly S.L.A.A. meetings through the S.L.A.A. Virtual Intergroup if getting across town feels impossible.

2) Therapy through a big local health system

I used my insurance and saw a therapist at a clinic off Atlantic. She knew sexual compulsions, not just “anxiety.” Big difference.

• What worked: We mapped triggers. Nighttime. Messy feelings. The scroll. We set 3 simple rules: no phone in bed, “gray scale” phone after 9, and a plan for lonely hours. She also taught me to track “urge waves.” I could ride them like the actual waves down at Junipero.
• What bugged me: Scheduling was clunky. I had to wait three weeks for the first spot. The room was cold, too. I always brought a sweater.
• Real moment: One day I walked in and said, “I slipped.” She said, “Okay. What did you learn?” I didn’t expect that. It helped. She reminded me that brains do rewire with steady practice; this timeline of how long it takes a brain to rewire from porn kept my expectations realistic.

Would I keep going? Yes. It kept me steady.

3) Two apps: Brainbuddy and Fortify

I tried both for 60 days. Some friends asked if I’d ever try hypnosis. I read this real-deal review of porn-addict hypno and decided apps felt safer for me.

• Brainbuddy: Quick daily tasks. Mood check-ins. Cute streaks. It nudged me at the right times. But it got a little cheerleader-y. I needed less glitter and more grit some days.
• Fortify (official site): More education. Videos on urges and habit loops. I liked the journal prompts. It moved slower, but deeper.
• Cost: Not free. Think two to four coffees a month. Worth it if you actually use it.
• Real moment: Brainbuddy pinged me at 10:02 p.m., right when I usually slipped. I got up, washed my face, and went to bed. Wild how a ping can save a night.

Would I recommend? Yes, but pick one and commit. Double-apping made me ignore both.

Little things that helped a lot

• Beach walks at the Bluff during May Gray. The fog felt like a soft reset.
• Putting my phone in a kitchen drawer after 9. Not on the nightstand. In the drawer.
• An app blocker (I used Freedom) set for 8 p.m.–6 a.m. Not perfect, but it broke the quick-click habit.
• A text buddy I met at the meeting. We send a single emoji when we’re not okay. Mine’s a little wave. Simple and fast.
• A cozy sweatshirt and peppermint tea. Sounds silly. But soft things help when you want hard things.

What didn’t help (for me)

• Mixed-gender groups at first. I got shy and guarded. Later, it was fine. But not day one.
• Shame-heavy advice. “Just stop.” If I could “just stop,” I would’ve already.
• Big goals. “No urges ever again.” That backfired. I do better with “no phone in bed tonight.”

At one point, a friend floated the idea of replacing porn with real-life intimacy—basically swapping the screen for a casual hookup. If that’s something you’re curious about, you might skim this practical guide to finding a casual fuck-buddy fast on MeetnFuck; it breaks down profile setup, safety checks, and clear-boundary conversations so the experience stays consensual and low-drama.

While my scene is Long Beach, I’ve chatted with friends up in Michigan who wrestle with the same “screen vs. skin” dilemma but live in smaller markets. They told me that local classified boards can feel like a lifeline when swipe-based apps fall flat—if you’re in the Upper Peninsula, for instance, the updated listings at Backpage Marquette offer a curated snapshot of who’s available, what they’re looking for, and built-in safety reminders, letting you gauge real-world options instead of defaulting to another night of doom-scrolling porn.

Real week, real examples

• Monday: Stress from the LBC heat and a late email. Urge hit at 9:15 p.m. I put the phone in the drawer and did 20 wall push-ups. Clumsy, yes. It burned off the jumpy feeling. I slept.
• Wednesday: Bored after dinner. YouTube shorts pulled me in. I hit my blocker. Annoyed. I grabbed my keys and walked to Portfolio Coffeehouse for a decaf. Saw a dog in a pink sweater. Mood fixed.
• Friday: Lonely. I texted my buddy a wave. She sent back: “5-minute surf the urge.” I set a timer. Five minutes passed. The edge dropped from a 9 to a 5. I watched a silly baking show instead.
• Sunday: Laundry day. Old habit day. I put on a podcast about habits while folding. Hands busy, brain busy.

A few local notes you might care about

• Parking near the meeting spot can be a pain. Arrive 10 early.
• If you’re queer or not sure, ask if the group is affirming. Most are. I asked. It mattered to me.
• Bring layers. Meeting rooms and clinics run cold.
• If you can, schedule therapy mid-day. Evening slots go fast here.

Who this helped

• Women who feel alone and stuck with a screen habit that got loud.
• People who like simple steps, not big lectures.
• Anyone who lives near the coast and needs a walk plan that isn’t “just be stronger.”

Who it might not help: If you want a quick fix. I wanted that too. I had to build a small, boring plan and work it.

My bottom line

Long Beach has help. One online space that encouraged me is Through the Flame, where women share raw recovery stories and get practical, judgment-free guidance. It’s quieter than other stuff, but it’s here. A women’s meeting gave me kindness. Therapy gave me skills. Apps gave me nudges. The ocean gave me a place to breathe.

I’m not perfect. I still get urges. Sometimes I slip. But now I know what to do next. And that’s the whole point, right?

If you’re here, reading, and your chest feels tight—yeah, I know that feeling.

I’m Kayla. I test stuff all the time, but this one isn’t some gadget. This was my life for a while. It still is, in a way. I’ll keep it plain. I’ll keep it honest. Real examples. Real feelings. No fluff.

When the Light Hit at 2 a.m.

The first clue was the glow. That tiny phone light under the covers at 2 a.m. I woke up to his shoulders hunched and his face tight. He’d lock the screen fast, like it burned him. Then there were long “showers” and the Bluetooth speaker kept pairing in the bathroom. We fought over small stuff, but the big thing sat there, quiet and loud at once.

I later found comfort seeing how another partner walked through the same early warning signs in this candid account of dating a sex addict.

One night, I saw “VideoHost” charges on the bank app. Not huge. But sneaky. I asked. He said, “It’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing. I’m not dumb. I felt my gut drop.

How It Felt (And Yes, It Messed With My Head)

I felt small. I wondered if I was boring or plain. I wanted to compete with pixels. Which… sounds silly and also not silly at all. I got mad. Then I got sad. Then I got mad again. I said sharp things I wish I hadn’t. He shut down. I shut down too. If you’d rather see the science-y side of things, this concise overview of porn addiction breaks down how the cycle starts and why it sticks.

You know what? Shame didn’t help either of us. It just made him hide more.

(If you need a longer play-by-play of what living with a boyfriend hooked on porn can look like, this raw piece helped me feel seen: My boyfriend is addicted to porn—what I lived, what helped, what hurt.)

Things We Tried That Flopped First

• I took his phone at night. He used his work laptop.
• I set iPhone Screen Time with a passcode. He guessed it. Twice.
• I blocked “adult websites.” He switched to the DuckDuckGo app and weird keywords.
• We tried “just stop.” That lasted three days. Then he relapsed and lied about it, and I cried in the car at Target.

Not my best week.

Tools We Actually Used (And What Happened)

I test tools for a living, so I went full nerd. Not all of this was perfect. Some of it helped.

• Covenant Eyes (accountability software)
  • What worked: He picked a friend (not me) to get reports. That took me out of the cop role. The reports were simple, and it did catch stuff.
  • What didn’t: It lagged sometimes. False flags on random sites. If someone wants to cheat it, they can find a way. Cost wasn’t tiny.
• Fortify (recovery app)
  • What worked: Daily check-ins and short lessons. The streak counter mattered to him. He liked the simple tracking.
  • What didn’t: Some videos felt cheesy to me. He said the daily pings got naggy when he was stressed.
• Freedom app (site blocker across devices)
  • What worked: Good for runs in the evening when he felt twitchy. We set block sessions from 10 p.m. to 7 a.m.
  • What didn’t: If he truly wanted out, he could uninstall. It’s a speed bump, not a locked door.
• iPhone Screen Time + Android Digital Wellbeing
  • What worked: Blocking private browsing helped. We also blocked the app stores at night. Simple, not fancy.
  • What didn’t: He’d find new search terms. The internet is… creative.
• Therapy (we used Regain and then found a local CBT therapist)
  • What worked: A real space to say the ugly stuff without yelling. The CBT guy gave him tools for urges, like urge surfing and five-minute delays.
  • What didn’t: Our first therapist brushed it off like “boys will be boys.” Hard pass. It took two tries to find a fit. It also cost money.
• A boring paper plan (this weirdly helped)
  • Our rules: No porn. No fishing for spicy stuff on social feeds. If he slips, tell me within 24 hours. No bathroom phone after 10 p.m. If he gets hit by a wave, text his buddy first, not me.
  • Triggers we wrote down: stress after late sales calls, boredom after lunch, and when he felt rejected.
• Small life tweaks
  • A basket for phones at 10:30 p.m. Not cute, but it worked.
  • A smart plug on the Wi-Fi to kill it at night, then back on at 6 a.m. Annoying when I wanted to stream, but we adjusted.
  • Sunday hikes. Replace the scroll with sun and sore calves.

A Real Slip (Because It Happens)

On day 19 he slipped. Bad day at work. Sat in the car, watched stuff on data. He came in pale and told me. I cried. He cried. It felt like square one. But we didn’t throw out the whole plan. He texted his buddy. We went for a slow walk. He deleted Reddit and some sketchy apps. Then we ate tacos and went to bed early. The next morning wasn’t magic, but it was lighter.

What I Learned About Me (Which I Didn’t Expect)

I didn’t want to be his warden. That killed trust too. I needed boundaries for me:

• Honesty in 24 hours, or we pause intimacy.
• If I start to spiral, I call my sister or go to the gym. I’m not his therapist.
• If he lies three times in a row, I leave. Not a threat. A promise to myself.

Reading about being a codependent of a sex addict slapped me awake and showed me why those boundaries mattered.

Having that written down made me feel less shaky.

Four Months Later: Is It Better?

Better, yes. Perfect, no. He’s had two slips. He told me both times. We celebrated small wins: a month clean, a tough week with no slip, date night with our phones off. Intimacy felt less like a test. More like us, you know?

I still check in with myself. Do I feel safe? Do I feel heard? Most days, yes.

Would I Tell You To Stay?

Tricky. If your person takes ownership, gets support, and tells the truth even when it stings—there’s a path. If they gaslight you, hide stuff, or mock your pain—please leave. You don’t need permission. You don’t need to burn out to prove you tried.

Side note: some readers have asked me whether stepping away and building their own independent, even transactional, online life is an option—something that offers financial security and clearer boundaries while they sort out the relationship mess. If that curiosity has crossed your mind, a helpful primer is Can I be an online sugar baby? which spells out what an online arrangement really entails, walks through safety checklists, income expectations, and emotional pros and cons so you can decide if it fits your goals before jumping in blindly. Conversely, if you're seeing signs that your partner might be sliding from late-night videos into arranging real-world hookups, taking three minutes to study the local-classifieds scene in Backpage Frisco can arm you with a clear picture of how these ads are worded, what services are really being offered, and the legal and safety tripwires that pop up long before pixels turn into in-person risk.

If you’re already married and wondering what daily life on the other side can look like, skim this brutally honest review of being married to someone with a porn addiction. And if you’re weighing a permanent split, the nuts-and-bolts perspective in this piece on porn addiction and divorce might help you sort through next steps.

Quick Notes That Helped Me

• Talk when you’re calm, not at midnight tears time.
• Keep rules simple. Write them down. Tape them to the fridge if you want.
• One blocker + one accountability buddy beats five apps you don’t use.
• Therapy is worth the hassle. Shop around till the fit feels right.
• Watch triggers like HALT (hungry, angry, lonely, tired). It’s real.
• Join a support group if you feel alone. I used a small online group for partners, and it kept me sane. A free resource that offers stories and guidance is Through the Flame. For another angle, this supportive guide for partners of sex and porn addicts helped me feel