Tracing Spiritual Belief and Identity Shifts in Sex Addiction Recovery

A sweeping analysis of dozens of first-person recovery stories has revealed how spirituality may help people rebuild their identities and break free from compulsive sexual behavior, with researchers finding that a relationship with a “Higher Power” appears to function much like a secure attachment figure—one that offers a safe haven in moments of distress and a secure base from which a fractured self can be reassembled.

The study, published in the journal Pastoral Psychology by Justin Fannon and Geoff Goodman of Emory University and Chenyu Li of Boston College, took an unusual methodological approach. Rather than surveying people in treatment or running a clinical trial, the team turned to 46 autobiographical narratives drawn from the foundational text of Sex Addicts Anonymous, a widely used 12-step recovery fellowship. These stories, written by people describing their own descent into compulsive sexual behavior and their subsequent recovery, offered a rare window into the inner architecture of addiction and healing—particularly the role that spiritual belief plays in both.

Compulsive sexual behavior disorder, recognized by the World Health Organization in the ICD-11 as an impulse-control disorder, affects a substantial number of people worldwide and is characterized by repetitive sexual activities that become a central focus of life at the expense of health, work, and relationships. Prior research, including a 2021 systematic review by Jennings and colleagues, has pointed to a significant relationship between religiosity, spirituality, and compulsive sexual behavior—but the mechanisms of that relationship have remained murky. What exactly is it about spiritual involvement that influences recovery? Is it social connection? Moral framing? Cognitive restructuring? The new study set out to answer those questions using the tools of qualitative science.

The researchers applied a grounded theory methodology developed by Auerbach and Silverstein, a systematic approach to analyzing qualitative data in which coders move iteratively through texts, identifying what are called “repeating ideas”—concepts that appear across multiple narratives—and then clustering those ideas into broader themes, and finally into theoretical constructs that explain the phenomenon as a whole. In this case, the coding process distilled 46 narratives into 52 repeating ideas, which were consolidated into 17 themes, and ultimately into four central theoretical constructs describing how spirituality shapes recovery.

To guard against the subjectivity that can plague qualitative research, the team also ran frequency analyses, quantifying how many narratives expressed each construct and how many discrete quotations supported it. The results were striking. The most pervasive construct—appearing in 82.6 percent of narratives, backed by 84 quotations—was that spirituality shapes social identity. Close behind was the finding that the Higher Power functions as an attachment figure, present in 67.4 percent of narratives with 71 quotations. Spirituality’s role in reshaping internal working models appeared in 63.0 percent of narratives (73 quotations), while the integration of identity with spirituality featured in 54.3 percent of narratives (57 quotations).

The attachment framework lies at the theoretical heart of the study. Attachment theory, originally developed by John Bowlby to describe the bond between infants and caregivers, holds that humans build “internal working models”—mental representations of self and others formed through early relational experiences—that guide expectations and behavior throughout life. When early attachments are insecure, inconsistent, or ruptured, individuals may struggle with emotion regulation and turn to maladaptive coping strategies. A substantial body of research by psychologists such as Lee Kirkpatrick and Pehr Granqvist has extended attachment theory to religious belief, suggesting that for many people, God or a Higher Power serves as an attachment figure in adulthood: an accessible, responsive presence that provides comfort under threat and encouragement for exploration.

The narratives in the study suggest that this is precisely what happens in sex addiction recovery. The storytellers describe their addiction as a form of “misdirected dependence”—a desperate attempt to meet fundamental needs for love, acceptance, safety, reciprocity, and belonging through compulsive sexual behavior, which ultimately blocks access to those very needs. Addiction, in this framing, is not merely a habit problem but a disorder of attachment and identity: a state the authors describe as “identity dissonance,” in which the self is fragmented between who a person is, who they pretend to be, and who they long to become.

In recovery, the relationship with a Higher Power appears to repair that fragmentation by serving two classic attachment functions. First, it acts as a safe haven—a source of comfort and regulation that the recovering person can turn to when craving, shame, or emotional distress spikes, rather than acting out sexually. Second, it acts as a secure base—a stable psychological platform from which individuals can explore difficult emotions, rebuild relationships, and take the risks involved in constructing a new life. The authors argue that the quality of this relationship, rather than the mere presence of belief, is what promotes identity integration: the process by which the fractured, shame-laden self of active addiction coheres into a unified identity organized around spiritual values and honest connection with others.

The social dimension of this transformation was the most frequently reported. Twelve-step fellowships like Sex Addicts Anonymous combine spiritual practice with peer-led group meetings in which members share personal narratives and hold one another accountable. The narratives suggest that spirituality does not operate in isolation; it reshapes how recovering individuals see themselves in relation to a community. Adoption of a recovery-oriented social identity—one organized around sobriety, honesty, service, and mutual support—appears to reinforce both abstinence and the internal spiritual work. This finding aligns with a growing body of research on mechanisms of behavior change in 12-step programs, which has identified similar processes in alcohol and other substance recoveries, including studies such as Project MATCH and work by Khantzian on the psychodynamic underpinnings of the 12-step approach.

The second most common pattern—spirituality reshaping internal working models—points to a deeper cognitive restructuring. Recovering individuals described fundamental shifts in how they viewed themselves and the world: moving from models built on shame, abandonment, and self-reliance toward models of being loved, guided, and never truly alone. The researchers note that this resembles processes targeted by therapies such as spiritual self-schema therapy, developed by Avants and Margolin, which integrates cognitive and contemplative approaches to help people with addictions construct new self-representations. In effect, the Higher Power relationship offers a corrective relational experience that revises the internal templates laid down decades earlier.

Identity integration itself—the process of folding spirituality into the self-concept—emerged as the linchpin connecting the other three constructs. The authors conclude that sex addiction, characterized by identity dissonance, is best understood as a by-product of misdirected dependence, and that recovery hinges on redirecting that dependence toward a relationship capable of actually meeting the underlying needs. When the Higher Power relationship is experienced as secure—reliable, non-judgmental, and unconditionally accepting—the addict can finally tolerate the vulnerability required to integrate hidden parts of the self, including the shameful history of compulsive behavior, into a coherent identity rather than quarantining it behind secrecy and double lives.

The findings carry practical implications for clinicians, chaplains, and pastoral counselors working with compulsive sexual behavior. Rather than treating spirituality as a vague adjunct to treatment, the study suggests that the specific attachment quality of a client’s relationship with their Higher Power may be a clinically meaningful target. Therapists might explore whether that relationship feels accessible and responsive, whether it provides a genuine safe haven during cravings, and whether it supports a secure base for rebuilding relationships and social identity. The conclusions also inform understanding of how spiritual practices contribute to what the authors call “spiritual and relational reformation”—the broader overhaul of how a person relates to themselves, to others, and to the sacred.

The researchers caution, as with all qualitative and narrative-based work, that these accounts come from individuals already engaged in 12-step recovery, and the findings should not be overgeneralized to all people with compulsive sexual behavior, including those for whom religious framing intensifies distress. Indeed, prior work on “moral incongruence” by Grubbs and colleagues shows that for some individuals, conflict between sexual behavior and religious values fuels shame rather than healing. The recovery narratives analyzed here represent a particular pathway—one in which spirituality, rather than being a source of condemnation, becomes the scaffolding for a reconstructed self.

Still, the scale of agreement across 46 independent life stories is difficult to dismiss. In four out of five narratives, spirituality was woven into the very fabric of social identity. In two out of three, the Higher Power stood in the role of an attachment figure. And across the corpus, the same arc repeated: fragmentation into coherence, isolation into belonging, shame into integration. For a condition that has long resisted easy classification and treatment, the study offers a compelling hypothesis about what finally allows many people to stop—the discovery, in their own words, of a relationship secure enough to hold a broken identity together while it heals.