After ten years of working with young men in therapy, I’ve started noticing something that is somewhat disturbing. Men in their early twenties walk into my office looking ‘depleted’ – like someone has dimmed their inner light.
Take Liam, twenty-three, a talented musician, who used to run half-marathons for fun. When I first met him, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d picked up his guitar. “I used to plan these epic camping trips with my friends,” he told me, staring at his hands. “Now I can barely get myself to answer their texts.”
What’s happening to these young men? After months of meetings, the same story emerged again and again. Porn. Daily use, sometimes multiple times a day, and they have no idea how to break free.
The numbers are staggering. Nearly 80% of young men are consuming pornography regularly, that’s according to Barna Group’s latest research. YouGov found that one in ten adults under 40 are watching it every single day. But statistics don’t capture what I see sitting across from these guys: the slow erosion of what I can only describe as their life force – their mojo.
What Do I Mean by “Mojo”?
I know it sounds unscientific, but hear me out. There’s something that happens to a person when they lose their drive, their curiosity about the world, their willingness to take risks, their excitement about the future. Psychologists have studied this for decades under different names: vitality, intrinsic motivation, psychological energy.
Ryan and Deci’s Self-Determination Theory breaks it down into three basic human needs. We need to feel autonomous (like our choices are actually ours), competent (confident we can handle life’s challenges), and connected (like we matter to other people). When these needs are met? People thrive. When they’re not? Well, that’s when guys like Liam end up in my office.
Here’s a test I use: “When’s the last time you organized something social from start to finish?” The guys who are struggling often can’t remember. They’ve become passive consumers of their own lives.
The Pornography Reality Nobody Wants to Discuss
Let me paint you a picture of what we’re dealing with. Pornhub gets more than 3 billion visits every month. That’s just one website. Most of the men I work with first encountered pornography when they were kids, nine, ten, eleven years old. Their brains were still developing, and this became their first teacher about sexuality and intimacy.
What starts as childhood curiosity rarely stays innocent. Here’s what I’ve observed: tolerance builds. The same content stops being stimulating, so people seek out more extreme material. What begins as “normal” pornography often escalates into content that bears no resemblance to healthy human sexuality.
The really heartbreaking part? Research shows nearly 40% of regular users want to quit but can’t manage it on their own. They’re trapped between wanting immediate relief from stress or boredom and knowing deep down that this isn’t who they want to be.
It’s Not What You Think It’s About
This might surprise you, but most of my clients aren’t using pornography primarily for sexual reasons. Mateo, who works in tech support, explained it perfectly: “It’s not that I’m horny all the time. It’s that I need to shut my brain off after dealing with angry customers for eight hours.”
Think about it from a stress-management perspective. You’re anxious? Porn provides instant relief. Bored? Immediate stimulation. Lonely? Pseudo-connection without the risk of rejection. It becomes the go-to solution for every uncomfortable emotion.
Jonah went to art school and used to paint for hours at a time. Now he can’t focus on anything creative for more than fifteen minutes without getting the urge to check his phone. “My attention span is shot,” he admitted. “I used to lose myself in my work. Now I can barely finish a sketch.”
Living a Double Life
Here’s what really gets me: these guys are essentially living as two different people. There’s the version of themselves they present to the world, often successful, well-liked, responsible, and then there’s this private self they’re deeply ashamed of.
Chris had been married for four years when he finally came to therapy. Every night after his wife went to sleep, he’d spend an hour or two watching porn on his phone. The guilt was destroying him from the inside, but he felt too ashamed to talk to anyone about it.
“I kept thinking I was choosing pixels on a screen over my actual wife,” he told me during one particularly emotional session. “But I didn’t know how to stop.”
The shame becomes self-perpetuating. You feel terrible about what you’re doing, so you isolate yourself, which makes you feel worse, which drives you back to the behaviour that started the whole mess.
What This Actually Looks Like
In my practice, I see the same patterns repeatedly, and they’re devastating to watch unfold.
These men start avoiding eye contact with people they find attractive. They turn down social invitations. The idea of dating becomes overwhelming because they’re comparing real human beings to what they’ve been consuming online.
Everything that requires sustained effort, going to the gym, working on projects, advancing in their careers, starts feeling impossible. Why struggle with something difficult when you can get a dopamine hit in thirty seconds?
Their sleep gets disrupted from late-night sessions. Their ability to concentrate fragments. I’ve had clients tell me they can’t read books anymore, can’t sit through movies without getting restless, can’t have conversations without their minds wandering.
The creative types get hit especially hard. Musicians stop writing songs. Writers abandon novels halfway through. The slow, uncertain process of creating something meaningful can’t compete with the instant gratification available on their phones.
But here’s what gives me hope: this damage isn’t permanent. Within two to three weeks of significantly reducing pornography consumption, most of my clients report sleeping better, feeling more socially confident, and rediscovering interest in activities they’d abandoned.
How I Actually Help
My approach starts with curiosity, not judgment. “What is pornography doing for you?” I ask. Not “Why are you engaging in this destructive behaviour?” but “What problem is this solving in your life?”
Sometimes it’s anxiety management. Sometimes it’s genuine loneliness. Sometimes it’s just habit. You can’t develop healthier coping strategies until you understand what you’re actually trying to cope with.
I teach practical techniques: breathing exercises and mindfulness for managing urges, ways to create friction around automatic behaviours (like keeping phones out of the bedroom), physical activities that provide healthy stress relief and confidence building.
We focus heavily on building alternative sources of satisfaction and accomplishment. I encourage guys to sign up for things that challenge them, martial arts classes, language courses, improv comedy. Activities that provide social connection and a genuine sense of competence.
Most importantly, we explore values. Not in a preachy way, but genuinely: “Who do you want to be in relationships? What kind of life are you actually trying to build? How do your current habits support or undermine those goals?”
Sometimes I suggest what I call “experiment breaks”, taking time away from pornography, not as punishment, but as genuine curiosity about what changes. “Let’s see what happens if you take a month off. What shifts? What stays the same? What do you learn about yourself?”
The Bigger Picture We Can’t Ignore
Individual therapy helps enormously, but we’re dealing with cultural forces much larger than any one person. Young men today are lonelier than previous generations. Economic pressures are intense. Social media algorithms are literally designed to capture and monetize human attention. Dating apps can make genuine connections feel nearly impossible.
I think we desperately need better education about how highly stimulating digital content affects developing brains. Parents need tools for talking about the difference between healthy sexuality and compulsive pornography use. Partners need frameworks for discussing these issues without it becoming a moral battleground.
What This Means for Treatment
For my fellow therapists: we need to start asking about pornography use as routinely as we ask about sleep patterns or substance use. Not judgmentally, but as part of understanding someone’s overall functioning and well-being.
We should be tracking psychological vitality, initiative, creativity, social engagement, as measurable treatment outcomes. These changes matter tremendously to people’s quality of life.
Most critically, we need to approach this work with deep compassion. Shame is usually what’s maintaining the problem, not solving it. The therapeutic relationship has to be a place where people can be completely honest about their struggles without fear of judgment.
Moving Forward
The young men I work with, whether they’re dealing with depression, anxiety, relationship problems, or just feeling stuck, deserve our complete attention to all the factors affecting their well-being. For many of them, problematic pornography use is one significant piece of a larger puzzle.
My goal isn’t to shame anyone or impose particular moral values. It’s to help people align their daily behaviours with their deeper aspirations and values. To help them move from secrecy and isolation toward authentic connection with themselves and others.
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself in these stories, please know that you’re not broken or weak. These patterns make complete sense given the environment we’re all navigating. With the right support and strategies, it’s absolutely possible to reclaim your sense of agency and enthusiasm for life.
The path forward isn’t about achieving perfection, it’s about integration. Helping people live in ways that feel authentic, connected, and meaningful. That’s work worth doing, both as a therapist and as a human being.
For those interested in learning more, I recommend exploring research on Self-Determination Theory, problematic pornography use studies, and trauma-informed approaches to behavioural change. Additional training in sex therapy and addiction counselling can provide valuable frameworks for understanding these presentations.
All client names and identifying details have been changed to protect confidentiality. If you’re struggling with these issues, please consider reaching out to a qualified mental health professional.
References
- Barna Group. (2024). Beyond the Porn Phenomenon: A Research Monograph.
https://www.barna.com/beyond-the-porn-phenomenon/ - Institute for Family Studies, & YouGov. (2024). Frequent porn use is linked to negative mental health among Gen Z and Millennials.
https://ifstudies.org/blog/frequent-porn-use-is-linked-to-negative-mental-health-among-gen-z-and-millennials - Carroll, J. S., Padilla-Walker, L. M., Nelson, L. J., Olson, C. D., Barry, C. M., & Madsen, S. D. (2008). Generation XXX: Pornography acceptance and use among emerging adults. Journal of Adolescent Research, 23(1), 6–30.
https://doi.org/10.1177/0743558407306348 - Owens, E. W., Behun, R. J., Manning, J. C., & Reid, R. C. (2012). The impact of Internet pornography on adolescents: A review of the research. Sexual Addiction & Compulsivity, 19(1–2), 99–122.
https://doi.org/10.1080/10720162.2012.660431 - Pornhub Insights. (2024). 2024 Year in Review.
https://www.pornhub.com/insights/2024-year-in-review - Prause, N., & Pfaus, J. (2015). Viewing sexual stimuli associated with greater sexual responsiveness, not erectile dysfunction. Sexual Medicine, 3(2), 90–98.
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4498826/ - Ryan, R. M., & Deci, E. L. (2000). Self-determination theory and the facilitation of intrinsic motivation, social development, and well-being. American Psychologist, 55(1), 68–78.
https://doi.org/10.1037/0003-066X.55.1.68
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