Have mercy. Dear, sweet AMG readers sent two—yes, two—queries this week about a most sensitive subject: pornography.

Here’s query one:

I’m a young single female adult in the church and in my dating, I have come across what seems like an astonishing number of young men in the church that have struggled with pornography. (Maybe astonishing isn’t the right word, as I’m well aware of the far-reaching impact of pornography addiction.) I have heard horror story after horror story about families being torn apart from pornography and it’s left me feeling a little, well, hopeless. Are there any positive stories about people overcoming pornography addiction? I’m sure there are, but frankly, it seems like those stories don’t really get told in General Conference all that often. Is it wiser to write off any boys that have/had problems with porn? I hate to do that because 1, I believe in the healing power of the Atonement and 2, that would reduce my already tiny dating pool into something of a dating puddle. And what’s the best way to broach the topic with any potential spouses?

Here’s query two:

I am writing with a touchy subject. I have been married to my husband for 2 and a half years. We have had a happy marriage thus far; we both have similar goals and perspectives—including our political and religious beliefs. We love being around each other. However, about a year ago, I learned that my husband has had a pornography addiction since he was a teenager. He had never told anyone about this, and it has been difficult for me to learn how to handle. Right when I learned about this, he and I discussed it at length. We also visited with our branch president who offered excellent advice and counsel. For the first few months following this advice, my husband would let me know when he ‘slipped up’ and we would talk about what the situation was when he sought out pornography. As time has passed, we haven’t talked much about how he is doing. In the last few months, I have found out that he is still looking at pornography. Once, recently, I found out about it while he was next to me by the computer (he’s usually so good at covering his ‘tracks’). We didn’t talk in depth at the time, but it really saddens me that he isn’t open about this, as I am trying so hard to be non-judgmental and kind about the reality that he and I are in. But when it comes down to it, I feel like my trust has been betrayed and I find myself becoming paranoid—I don’t want to stalk him or make him feel like he is constantly being harassed as I ‘check in’ on how he’s doing, but I do believe that this is something that I can’t simply live with indefinitely.

My question is this: As a progressive Mormon, I feel a bit prudish being offended and negatively impacted by my husband’s pornography addiction. I know that pornography is widely accepted throughout the progressive world that I enjoy associating with, but I still can’t ignore how hurt I am. I don’t want to make my husband feel guilty over this habit, but I’m not sure how to express my concern to him without making him feel that he is an immoral person. How can I work through this with him, and furthermore, how can I restore the trust that I feel is gone when it comes to this addiction?

Look, this is a really complicated subject. I’m no Church leader, and I’m no psychologist. I can offer here only some general reflections, and then point you to a few resources and hope the community chimes in as well.

I’ll start with a confession. I have food issues. (Correction: make that a huge number of Mormon women and I have food issues. Wait. Second correction: make that 75% of the white girls in the US of A and I have food issues.) My food issues are mild, but persistent. I’ve lived with them for decades now. And I came by them honestly. I inhaled them with the air I breathed and drank them in the water—in familial attitudes towards food, social attitudes towards women’s bodies, perfectionist pressures I picked up in my religious culture. But mostly my food issues have to do with everyday emotional pressures that every human being faces.

My husband happens to be a terrific cook who cares deeply about healthy food. Before I met him, I subsisted for weeks at a time on popsicles and toast. In the early days of our relationship, I’d marvel to see him roast peppers and steep exotic dried mushrooms and make them into an actual sauce to go over a pasta that was not store brand spaghetti! On Friday mornings, we’d go to farmers markets and touch exotic organic fruits and vegetables and then, on Friday nights, we would cook together. And there is still a lot of cooking in our house. And when my food issues flare up, it is not about his cooking. It is not about whether his risotto really satisfies me. It is not about the roasted balsamic brussel sprouts with pancetta, parmesan, and pecans that we love to share at our favorite restaurant. It is about my own cluster of tender but predictably human feelings like anxiety, shame, and anger. In fact, my food issues—mild though they are—are predictably compounded by my own self-consciousness about having food issues. Is it right to link this to my husband? Is it right to make him my monitor? That, I think, would only complicate the control and shame issues immeasurably.

I wonder if for some people porn issues are an anxiety-related compulsion that shame only compounds. Kind of like food issues.

Porn, you will say, is a vastly more serious and complicated issue than your predictable white-girl food issues. Yes, it may in fact be. Certainly it is in the eyes of the LDS Church. We all know LDS Church leaders have been emphasizing the dangers of pornography, especially to young men. And yet, the statistics have shown that Utah has the highest rate of home on-line porn subscription.

Still, this seemingly contradictory pair of facts seems to suggest that there’s something compulsive going on with porn in the world of Mormonism. Mormon communities are emphatic about chastity—because it is a commandment. But Mormonism’s emphasis on chastity can impact the way Mormons feel about healthy sexuality, tinging it with shame, mystery, guilt, and unrealistic expectations. Now, bring into this complicated mix the advent of internet pornography. The digital era means porn is pervasively accessible, and that accessibility is changing the course of human sexual development and expectations. In many ways I’m not comfortable with.

So if porn is truly pervasive, and if it seems to present a specific shame-sensitive challenge to people in chastity-emphatic LDS communities, what to do? How to deal with the very real human being—your husband, your boyfriend—who acknowledges that porn has been an issue for him too?

Some of the clearest and most merciful talk I’ve encountered on pornography and sexuality in Mormon contexts has come from a Mormon therapist named Natasha Parker. I’d recommend reading this helpful article and this column too. Check out this book she recommends.

I pass these resources along not as an alternative to the counsel you get in church. But maybe it can help relieve some of the pressure you’re feeling. For if the shadow side of Mormonism’s emphasis on sexual chastity is compulsive pornography consumption, it will take persistent, frank, but gentle dialogue to help us all along towards a healthy place.

Readers? Can you help?

Send your query to askmormongirl@gmail.com, or follow @askmormongirl on Twitter.