Time and time again, the men I work with in recovery from unwanted sexual behaviors share a story that is strikingly familiar. At a very young age, a parent discovered them engaging in sexual behavior — and in that single moment, everything changed. Not because of what was discovered, but because of what happened next.

Rather than being met with curiosity and compassion, they were met with shame. Their parent, rigid and forceful, communicated one thing clearly — that what they had done was wrong. No conversation. No space to process. Just the weight of shame and the fear of ever being caught again.

But shame alone did not stop the curiosity. It simply drove it underground.

This is what I call the Great Split — the moment a fracture formed between who these men appeared to be on the outside and what was silently unfolding within them. The very person who could have bridged that gap instead widened it. And with nowhere to turn and no one to talk to, that fracture quietly deepened over the years, shaping the men they would eventually become.

The Split and What It Creates

The Great Split is not simply about keeping secrets. It is a rupture in the fabric of one's identity — a tear so deep that honesty about one's inner world begins to feel impossible. On the outside, life continues normally. The good son. The reliable friend. The composed professional. But on the inside, a hidden self takes shape, one that carries the very things shame declared too dangerous to bring into the light.

Driven inward, these men come to believe that exposure would only bring more humiliation — another fracture on top of the one that already exists. And so they stay hidden, not out of indifference, but out of self-protection. The isolation shame creates is not chosen carelessly. It is chosen because it feels like the only option.

Yet the painful paradox is this — the very place that feels protective slowly becomes destructive. What began as a response to shame evolves into a cycle of fear, self-contempt, and increasing secrecy. The desire to get out remains, but the belief that getting out is possible begins to fade.

The Illusion of Safety in the Dark

Hiding feels safe. And for a time, it is — at least in the short term. There is a quiet relief in telling oneself, there is no need to share this right now. The nervous system settles. The threat of exposure passes. And life, on the surface, goes on.

But what feels like regulation is actually isolation. And isolation, over time, is its own kind of damage. The division within does not remain still — it grows. The further one retreats from honest connection, the further they move from the care and support they actually need. What once functioned as survival eventually becomes imprisonment. The darkness that once offered shelter begins to close in.

So if the dark is no longer safe — what is?

Living in the Light

Living in the light is not about reckless confession or exposing every private struggle to anyone who will listen. It is something far more intentional than that. It is the practice of honest disclosure with safe, supportive people — no minimizing, no dramatizing, just truth.

When shame is spoken aloud to someone who responds with steadiness rather than disgust, something shifts. The nervous system begins to regulate through connection rather than concealment. Fear softens. Shame loses its grip. What felt too dangerous to say out loud becomes, over time, something that can be held — not alone, but together.

In practical terms, this looks like naming an urge before acting on it. Naming stress before it accumulates. Naming a trigger before it pulls. It is the daily, often unglamorous work of allowing support instead of retreating from it.

The Gift of Honest Connection

Recovery from unwanted sexual behaviors is not simply about managing behavior. It is about learning how to be truly seen — and discovering that connection does not have to end in shame.

This takes courage. Stepping into the light after years of living in the dark is not a small thing. But the light is not exposure for punishment. It is exposure for connection. And connection, it turns out, is what makes change not just possible — but sustainable.

Healing does not happen in isolation. It never has. It happens in relationship, in the steady presence of people who can hold your truth without flinching. That is where the split begins to close. And that is where recovery truly begins.

Cody J. Hummer, LMSW

Licensed Master of Social Work