Never Too Late, Never Too Early

I was reading the message from last week, and just as Ty was resonating with Liam’s experience, I was resonating with Ty’s. I, too, was an LDS missionary who experienced the disappointment of relapse a little while after returning from my mission. It would be another 6 years of trying and failing on my own before I would finally reach out for help and get into recovery.

A week ago, in my recovery group, the question was posed, “what advice would you give to your eighteen-year-old self if you could talk to him for a minute.” Immediately what came to my mind was, “Please stop trying to do this on your own! There are some incredible therapies, spiritual retreats, and recovery groups out there. These are places where you can be completely honest, and the people there won’t show you the hateful rejection that you’re expecting. They’ll empathize, love, and encourage you. Please, reach out now!”

I know that I’m not the only person who feels this way, either. I’ve spoken with hundreds of men walking their own paths of recovery. I have never heard someone say, “Gee, I wish I had started recovery later in life.” What I have heard, however, is, “I sure wish I had started recovery sooner.” It is one of the defining regrets that is so common in these circles.

I do think there has been a cultural shift, that sees more and more young men willing to confess and seek help sooner. In the groups that I have attended, I have seen young men who are still teenagers or are fresh back from their mission. Young men who are still in the dating scene, and being honest with their potential future wives about the challenges that they face. I see them being honest in the times that I was still telling lies, and I’m so proud of them having the courage that I didn’t find until much later. Of course, their lives will still have their fair share of problems, but there is a lot of pain and regret down the road that they’re circumventing by what they’re doing today.

I don’t mean for this message to be discouraging to those of us that have lived through that pain and regret, though. There can be a danger for the long-time addict to think that it’s too late for him. To think that he’s lived a lie for too long, and missed out on too many good experiences, and too many opportunities that are never coming back. I could see myself asking, what’s the point of upending life and unleashing hell if all the rewards for it are behind me? If I was young, then the pain of recovery could be made up for with all the years of improved peace, but why start now if I’ll never get past those initial growing pains?

It’s an understandable feeling, but it is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of what recovery is all about. Sure, life could have been better if I’d entered recovery earlier, but that would have only been a side benefit. That isn’t the real reason for getting into recovery. The real reason for getting into recovery is simply this: to regain the soul.

A freed soul is timeless. It does not matter whether you claim it when you’re eighteen years old or eighty. It is its own reward, the greatest reward that one can ever have in life. All the regrets I have in not entering recovery earlier are swallowed up in the joy of at least being myself today. Even if I was “too late” for some of the side benefits of youthful recovery, I am perfectly content with just the benefit of feeling like a real Son of God again.

So, my message to one and to all, to both young and old, is that you must not delay any longer. Get into recovery today. Get into a fellowship of broken souls that are healing together. Stop trying to white-knuckle and go-it-alone. Shine a light on your shame, get in a group, and walk the path of shared recovery. It is a hard road, and you will be grateful for all the companionship you can have along the way. The companionship of you, your newfound friends, and your soul.

By Abe, Writing Team

Finding Footing After a Life Change

Coming home from my LDS mission was awkward. One day, I was a full-time missionary, preaching with purpose and feeling dialed into the Spirit. The next, I was back in my childhood bedroom with the same posters and old high school notebooks. Everything felt familiar but also...off. Like I’d been dropped back into my old life, but I wasn’t the same person anymore.

Listening to Liam’s story on the Unashamed Unafraid podcast, I kept nodding—especially when he talked about relapsing after coming home. I felt that. My mission wasn’t porn-free, but by the end, I’d pushed it aside, embraced the structure, and felt spiritually solid. I thought I’d left my struggles behind. Turns out they were just waiting.

I slipped back into regular porn use—not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t know how to fill the void the mission left. That structure had helped cover up wounds from my childhood, and without it, uncertainty and loneliness came rushing in. And yeah, an awkward attempt to rekindle things with my high school girlfriend didn’t help. (Spoiler: It did not go well.)

Soon, I was depressed and disappointed. Liam called post-mission life the most depressed he’d ever been—I could relate. For him, it was a strained relationship with his dad. For me, it was a failed relationship and realizing I’d fallen back into a version of myself I thought I’d outgrown—one shaped by pain I hadn’t fully faced.

Like Liam, things started to shift for me when I moved to college. A new environment, new friends, and a clean slate helped. My battle with porn saw years of ups and downs before I found real recovery, but looking back, I can see what contributed to the ups—and that’s where the lessons lie.

1. Connection, Purpose, and Routine Are Not Optional

On the mission, those things just exist—you don’t have to build them. But at home, it was on me to recreate them. When I didn’t, old habits were happy to fill the space.

Recovery isn’t just about quitting bad behavior. It’s about building a life that makes relapse less likely. For me, that meant surrounding myself with good people, setting goals, and creating daily structure. Liam found strength in connection, and so did I.

2. A Relapse Doesn’t Erase Progress

That first relapse after the mission felt like I’d undone everything—all the growth and hard work gone in an instant. But that’s a lie.

Recovery isn’t about never messing up. It’s about what I do after. Progress isn’t linear, and setbacks don’t erase what I’ve learned.

3. Shame Keeps Me Stuck. Forgiveness Moves Me Forward

For a while, I let shame run the show. It told me I was weak, that I’d blown it, that I’d never change. Believing that only made things worse.

Self-forgiveness isn’t a nice idea—it’s essential. Beating myself up never helped. Owning my mistakes and choosing to move forward? That’s when change would happen.

4. Environment Matters

Liam’s story reminded me how much my surroundings affect me. Being in a tense or unsupportive environment can drag me down fast.

Sometimes, the biggest shift in recovery is a literal one—new roommates, new school, new community. Changing my environment gave me space to breathe and grow.

If you're in the thick of a life transition, you're not alone. What’s been the hardest part for you? What’s helped? Drop a comment—We’d love to hear.

By Ty, Writing Team

Get Up and Get After It

So much of my anxiety and addiction in life is directly tied to procrastination. At first, I couldn’t see it, but everyone around me could and was frustrated by it.

Now I can see it in others and it frustrates me.

Procrastination feels really good … and then doesn’t when deadlines fast approach. I think of the demotivational poster:

Tony Robbins points out that if we wait until we are in the mood to do something, we will often wait a long time and just feel more and more frustrated, anxious, and even depressed. Instead, we need to get it in our heads that we’ve already accomplished something, relishing that feeling of success as though it has already happened. What will it feel like when we accomplish __? Then get up and get to work.

I started listening to Robbins in my 20s when I didn’t have much life experience and was frustrated that I couldn’t get things done. Now I have a few additions to his advice:

Have grace for myself. Drop the perfect “definition of done.”

Think iteratively. “How am I slightly better today than yesterday?”

We’ve all heard that an airplane flying from New York to LA, if off course by 1 degree, will end up hundreds of miles off target by the time it reaches the west coast. A pilot - and/or computerized copilot - must constantly make adjustments for wind, move around other airplane traffic, and adjust speed so that they will have a gate to park at when they arrive.

It is the same with life. My definition of done also has to be adjusted. Am I in perfect recovery? No. Am I doing significantly better than 5 years ago? Very much so. My wife even pointed that out this morning, which feels good.

I do still allow myself to procrastinate because it feels good, but now I time box it: “I’m going to waste time scrolling YouTube comedian stand-up shorts for five more minutes.” I set an alarm. In full transparency, I’ll probably do it for about seven minutes. But then, when I dive back into work, I feel refreshed.

Small wins are amazing. And large wins are almost always a culmination of those small wins.

My challenge to you is to pick something, define what a 1% improvement looks like today, and get after it. Within 100 iterations (notice I didn’t say days), you will have improved by 100%.

By Pete, Writing Team