I’m Ken, a sexaholic. With the grace of my Higher Power, the Twelve Step program of recovery, the fellowship of SA, a caring and loving sponsor, and a loving and supportive wife, I’ve been sexually sober since December 1, 2007.

Prior to coming to SA, I was caught cheating on my wife. After years of living in lies, deception, and acting out, I realized that lust was killing me. My wife has supported and loved me through 39 years of marriage, even during my addiction. But at this point I needed to save my marriage, so I found SA. I’ve been sober since my first meeting. I did all my relapsing before I got here!

When I was active in my addiction, I had many character defects. I was a fixer; I knew what was best for everyone. I carried resentments for decades. I was judgmental, egotistical, and self-centered. I manipulated people to get what I wanted. But since coming to SA, my Higher Power has led me to a new way of living, through every Step of my recovery.

One significant part of my journey was how God led me, as I started my second year of recovery, through the deaths of my mother, my brother, and my dog—all within eight months of each other! Through all of this I had to work my program hard to get out of myself. My sponsor recently suggested that I share my experience with the fellowship, as it might be useful to others who are dealing with death.

My journey began in January 2009. My father was 81, legally blind, and diabetic. My 78-year-old mother was frail and had other problems related to yet-undiagnosed lung cancer. My 54-year-old brother had just been diagnosed with Stage Four melanoma. At the time, my wife and I lived 550 miles away from my parents and 200 miles from my brother.

My brother and I had never been close. But in January 2009, when he went through a series of surgeries, I was able to be there for him. I sat in the room with him for six days as he underwent his first treatment. I was his advocate with the doctors, and I kept our family apprised of his progress. I called my sponsor and other members in the fellowship, and I meditated and prayed for the strength to be there.

My brother returned home, I stayed with him until his check-up two weeks later. Once there, his doctor recommended another surgery for the following week.

After the second surgery, my brother began looking for doctors for chemotherapy. When he was settled, I returned home—six weeks after leaving for a one-week surgery and recovery period. I had been able to be there with him the entire time.

Soon after that, my mother revealed she had lung cancer. She had known this for six months but did not tell us or seek treatment. Then she began chemotherapy, which made her quite sick.

About a month later, I went back to Tennessee for my brother’s 55th birthday. He should have been dead the year before, but he could still get around. He was excited to see me. He wanted to show me things that had been important to him. He especially loved the outdoors, hunting, and fishing, and he loved the hills and countryside of Tennessee. He took me to some of these places, and I enjoyed the trip because my brother was opening up to me as I had tried to do with him.

About three weeks later, my dad called to say that he could no longer care for my mother. He asked if I would come and help him find a place for her. I was on my way there when he called to say she had died that morning.

My trip was now focused on burying my mother. And—for the first time in my life—I was helping my dad! Together we arranged for the funeral. I also helped him set up services for his own care. I was able to support him through his decision-making process and not interfere.

As we were finalizing my mother’s funeral, my brother called to say that he was not well and needed my help. I had to tell him that I was not in a position to leave dad. We had not yet buried our mother, and dad was not yet set up. With input from my sponsor and others, I accepted that I could not help my brother this time. I could not be everything for everyone.

After my mother’s funeral, I returned home overnight. The next day I headed to Tennessee to see my brother, with the intention of staying with him until the end. His health had deteriorated significantly; the cancer was sapping all his strength. He gradually stopped eating and began to sleep most of the time. The hospice people came every day, but I was his primary caregiver.

During this time I called my sponsor—three, four, five, or six times a day—as well as others in the program. I listened to program recordings and read program and spiritual material. I prayed for the strength to do what I needed to do. Once a day I’d ask a friend of my brother to sit with him so I could go to town or sit outside and meditate.

In the last hours as my brother was dying, I held his hand and prayed with him. Then the hospice people came and pronounced him dead. My brother’s last wishes were for his ashes to be scattered over a trail in Tennessee. I traveled that trail and found a place I thought he would have liked. As I scattered the ashes, I cried and was not ashamed. In fact, I cried a lot while I was helping my brother. My grief and pain came to the surface, and—because of my SA recovery—that was okay.

When I got back home after all of this, I asked God for a chance to recover from my grief. Two weeks later, my chocolate Labrador was diagnosed with cancer. That was the last time I ever asked God for rest! In fact, it was the last time I asked Him to do anything for me other than give me the strength to carry out His will and the wisdom to know what to do. He seems to have a much higher opinion of my abilities than I do, and so far, He has always been right. I have seldom been right.

I cared for my dog and made his life as comfortable as possible for the next six months. I cried for him too. I was stroking his head when the vet administered the injection that would stop his heart. Tears ran down my face.

In less than eight months, I lost my mother, my brother, and my beloved dog. I grieved for each of them as I lost them, but I accepted that my role in all this was to carry out God’s will. I could be helpful, I could be mentally and spiritually present, I could listen and care—but I could not change a thing except my attitude and my actions. God was in control; I was not. My job was to be of service.

Today, the story “Acceptance Was the Answer” (AA 407), the Eleventh Step prayer, and the Serenity prayer are the foundations of my life. Without those prayers, the SA program, a loving sponsor, the love and support of my wife, and the fellowship of SA, I would not have made it through that period of my life sober. For that, I will never be sufficiently grateful. My experience has taught me that if I work the SA program and stay connected to God, He will get me through anything, no matter how hard it might seem.