I struggled with masturbation for 15 years. Back then, my active lifestyle masked the worst effects aside from prostatitis and relentless urinary frequency, but my appearance deteriorated drastically—severe acne, a sallow complexion, hollow eyes, and premature eye bags. My chronic allergies and worsening sinusitis, compounded by constant energy drain from masturbation, left me perpetually unwell. I’d quit for weeks, rebuild stamina through exercise, only to spiral back into compulsive binges that wrecked my health further. The damage was both physical and mental: I became irritable, impatient, and cognitively foggy, my memory and focus crumbling. Media’s “harmless masturbation” narratives trapped me in denial—my longest streak was 28 days, with zero guidance in a culture glorifying instant gratification. This cycle sabotaged my academics, landing me in a mediocre college. There, shared dorms curbed my habits, and basketball revived my health—urinary issues vanished, skin glowed, confidence returned. Yet after graduation, workplace stress, irregular hours, and unchecked urges triggered a collapse: neurasthenia and debilitating anxiety disorder. The agony was indescribable—a living hell of bizarre physical symptoms, isolation, and suicidal thoughts. Doctors shrugged; only fellow sufferers understood. Quitting my job, I dove into TCM, Buddhism, and medical research, uncovering truths: my illness tied directly to masturbation and sleep deprivation. Modern science now confirms traditional wisdom—excessive ejaculation shortens lifespan, echoing Sun Simiao’s warning that “depleted essence brings death.” Collecting thousands of case studies, I proved what healthy people ignore: addiction’s destruction becomes undeniable only after collapse. My hair thinned until abstinence gradually restored it. Embracing Buddhism and TCM, I rebuilt systematically—no medications, just exercise, circadian rhythm fixes, and mental discipline. After a year, anxiety vanished. Two years later, chronic symptoms—back pain, insomnia, muscle twitches, tinnitus—disappeared. My grip strength returned (linked to liver health in TCM), eyes regained sparkle (“the kidneys manifest in the eyes”), and confidence replaced self-loathing. The hollow, “gray” version of me faded; radiant vitality took its place. Quitting required rewiring my mind—not just willpower. Like drug rehab, success demands brainwashing out of lust: daily immersion in recovery materials replaced perverse thoughts. Most relapses stem from half-hearted mental shifts. Now, two years clean, I study TCM daily, reinforcing this psychological firewall. My research shows all successful quitters share this—they speak passionately about recovery, reinforcing their resolve by teaching others. Bottom line: lasting freedom comes from purifying your mindset, not white-knuckling. You’ll either transform your thoughts or remain a slave to urges until your body breaks. The mirror doesn’t lie: I’m now unrecognizable from the anxious, balding shell I once was—proof that healing is possible when you attack the root, not just the symptoms.