My Honest Take: Getting Help for Porn Addiction in Long Beach

Posted bykienernewton

I’m Kayla. I live in Long Beach, near the beach path. I’m a real person, and this is my story. I’ll tell you what I used, what worked, what flopped, and how it felt. It wasn’t neat. But it got better.
For readers who want the blow-by-blow of my local journey, here’s my full honest take on getting help for porn addiction in Long Beach.

Where I Started (Not Cute)

I’d stay up way too late on my phone. I told myself it was “just for a minute.” It never was. I hid tabs. I hid shame. Then I’d wake up wrecked. My eyes hurt. My mood was sour. I snapped at people I love.

One time, I sat in my car outside a grocery store on Broadway and burned 45 minutes staring at my screen. My frozen food melted. My brain felt mushy. That was my low.
If you’d rather see how recovery actually felt, week after week, here’s a detailed porn-addiction recovery timeline that mirrors a lot of my ups and downs.

What Helped Me in Long Beach

I tried a few things. Some hit. Some missed. Here’s the real stuff.

Novus Mindful Life Institute (Long Beach)

I booked an intake. It was a short phone call first, then an in-person session. My therapist was direct but kind. We made a plan. Weekly at first. Then every other week.

  • What I liked: They actually knew porn addiction. We did triggers, body cues, and small goals. No doom talk.
  • What bugged me: Parking was tight, and the early evening slots filled fast. Also, therapy is not cheap.

Real moment: They taught me a “urge surf” trick. I used it at a coffee shop on 4th Street. I felt the wave, named it, waited 10 minutes, and the urge softened. I was shocked. It wasn’t magic, but it helped.

SAA/SLAA Meetings (near Bixby Knolls and Downtown)

I went to a church basement group and a library room group. Very different vibes. One was quiet and heavy. One had laughter, which I needed.

  • What I liked: Hearing “me too” from real people. No judgment. Free.
  • What bugged me: The first meeting felt awkward. Sitting in a metal chair, saying my name, my heart pounding. But by week three, I knew faces.

Real moment: A guy said, “Hungry, angry, lonely, tired—check those four first.” I wrote HALT on a sticky note and kept it in my wallet. It saved me more than once.

Kaiser Addiction Medicine (Long Beach)

I used Kaiser. I asked my primary doctor for a referral. They had a group class and a short program on habits and stress.

  • What I liked: Covered by my plan. Straightforward. Skills-based.
  • What bugged me: Group size was big. Not porn-specific, so I had to translate some of it.

Real moment: They had me set a “tiny rule.” Mine was “No phone in bed.” I used a $12 alarm clock. Sounds silly. It changed my nights.

Apps and Tools I Actually Used

I tested a few. I’m picky. For a blunt, sober look at what different porn sites actually offer—and why they might trigger you—check out WildPornReviews; knowing the terrain helped me dodge rabbit holes.

  • Fortify: Short videos, daily check-ins, streak tracking. The brain science parts clicked for me. I liked the progress map.

    • Pro: Clear steps and quick lessons.
    • Con: Some pep talk parts felt cheesy on hard days.

  • Covenant Eyes: I used it with a trusted friend. It made me think twice late at night.

  • Freedom App: Blocks sites and apps on a schedule.

    • Pro: Simple. I set blocks from 10 pm to 7 am.
    • Con: I learned work-arounds. So I had to lock settings with a code my partner held.

  • Streaks App: Not a recovery app, just habits. I tracked “walk 10 minutes” and “no phone in bed.”

    • Pro: Small wins feel good.
    • Con: Miss a day, and it can mess with your head. I had to be kind to myself.

Little Local Things That Helped

  • Morning walks on the Shoreline path. Sun on my face. Headphones off. Fresh air kills rumination.
  • Sitting in bright, busy spots when I felt an urge—like a crowded cafe or the public library. It’s harder to spiral in public.
  • Leaving my phone in the trunk at night for a week. Sounds extreme. It cut my screen time fast.

What Didn’t Work for Me

  • Going “cold turkey” with no plan. I white-knuckled for three days, then crashed hard. I needed structure.
  • Shame-based pep talks. “Just stop.” If only.
  • Endless Reddit scrolling about recovery. I called it “productive,” but it was just more screen time.

Money, Time, and Access

Therapy cost me real money. But I used:

  • Sliding scale at one clinic for three months
  • HSA funds for part of it
  • Group meetings, which were free

I also asked my boss for one early day per week for a month so I could make therapy. I kept it vague. “Health appointment.” That was enough.

How My Life Shifted (Slow, Not Flashy)

  • Sleep: I fall asleep quicker now. Not perfect. But better.
  • Work: I focus longer. My brain feels cleaner.
  • Relationship: We set house rules for screens. More walks, more eye contact. We mess up sometimes. We reset.

A sweet win: One Thursday night, I read on the couch for 30 minutes. Just that. I remember the way the room felt still. I hadn’t felt calm like that in years.

I even celebrated my six-month milestone with a fancy dinner downtown. I wanted to feel different—like the new me deserved a little sparkle. A friend suggested checking out One Night Affair—they specialize in renting designer evening gowns for just a night, so I could dress up, feel confident, and not blow my recovery budget on something I’d only wear once. It turned the evening into a tangible marker of progress.

Quick travel hack: business trips used to derail my progress because lonely hotel rooms were trigger central. When I had to fly to Georgia for a conference, I set up a concrete after-work plan—dinner, a walk, maybe live music—before wheels up. While mapping it out I stumbled across the neighborhood listings at Backpage Alpharetta — a tidy roundup of restaurants, events, and adult-friendly venues in that city that helped me line up engaging, public activities in advance so I wasn’t stuck doom-scrolling alone in the hotel.

Tips I’d Hand a Friend

  • Change your nights. No phone in bed. Real alarm clock. Boring? Yes. Powerful? Also yes.
  • Make a “urge plan” card. Mine says: water, go outside, text a person, 10-minute timer, breathe.
  • Pick one local thing and one tool. For me, Novus + Fortify. For you, maybe group + blocker app.
  • Eat, sleep, and move. HALT is real. Hungry me is reckless me.
  • If you slip, tell the truth fast. Shame loves silence.

Who This Path Fits

  • You’re in Long Beach and want real help that’s not judgy.
  • You like step-by-step plans more than big speeches.
  • You’re okay with trying two or three tools before one sticks.

My Bottom Line

Long Beach has help. Real help. I used it. It wasn’t perfect, and I wasn’t either. But now my nights feel lighter, and my days feel mine again. If you’re stuck, you’re not broken—you’re just stuck. There’s a way forward. Start with one call, one meeting, or one tiny rule tonight.

If you want my short list:

  • Novus Mindful Life Institute for therapy
  • A local SAA or SLAA meeting for connection
  • Fortify plus a blocker app for guardrails
  • A cheap alarm clock for sanity

You know what? That little alarm clock still makes me smile. It’s small. But it’s freedom on my nightstand.