I’m bored. That’s a dangerous place for me to be, because one of my stronger lust triggers is boredom. I’m locked in my cell, waiting to be called to an appointment. I walk back and forth—window, door, window, door—with the occasional stop at the cupboard to see if I’ve overlooked some food item. Food can be a medication to relieve my boredom, just as lust can. My mind won’t shut down. How did I manage to put myself in this place?

It started in my early teens with the discovery of sex and pornography. Lust took me in a stranglehold from the first experience. My need for that high was never satisfied. I tried masturbation and then an endless conveyor belt of shallow relationships, always looking for more, better, or higher highs—but these were never enough. On rare occasions when I got a glimpse of reality, I knew that lust was killing me. But then I just looked harder for something that would satisfy the hunger.

Even in the beginning I was two people. Outwardly I was kind, caring, and considerate, while deep down I was very self-centered, lustful, and dishonest. At age 20 I married, desperately wanting a normal life. I was not faithful, as I could not pass up any opportunity to act out. I had many one-night stands as well as one longer affair. Fear forced me to confess my “one slip” to my wife. I damaged a precious relationship, yet my only regret at the time was my confession. Another opportunity to face my demons was squandered. I continued to be unfaithful.

I discovered the Internet many years later, and it quickly became my master. Eventually it also became my destruction. I’d been chatting for four months with a woman I thought was a mom, arranging to meet up with her and her two minor daughters. I finally made the arrangements to meet them during a business trip to Pennsylvania. While driving to the meeting place I kept saying to myself, “This is wrong,” but I was powerless to stop. It turned out that “Mom” was a police detective.

In September 2007, I was arrested as a result of this Internet sting. On that day, as the handcuffs clicked shut on my wrists, I said aloud, “Thank God, it’s over now.” Fear now ruled my waking hours, with all the stories I’d heard of what happens to sex offenders in prison rushing through my mind. I made peace with my Higher Power and was prepared to meet Him for judgment. However—to put it simply—God’s grace was showered upon me. In one of the worst places imaginable, I found peace, fellowship, and compassion.

Waiting in county jail for the legal process to slowly grind onward, I was blessed with a counselor who knew about SA. He gave me a copy of the White Book. Of course I’d heard of Twelve Step programs such as AA and NA, but I had no idea that a group like SA existed. I devoured the book, tears often streaming from my eyes. I thought, “I’m not alone, there is hope, and there are people who are willing to help.”

As I read, I felt as if someone had opened up my head and poured the contents into the White Book. I related to the problem, but I had no idea how to put the principles to work. I’d already made the choice to become sober. My challenge was what to do next.

In October 2008, after about 10 months in county jail and three months waiting to be classified, I arrived on my cell block. I was informed there was an SA group right in my cell block! I, of all people, do not deserve so much grace.

I went to my first meeting that week, and have regularly attended meetings ever since. Our group meets four or five times each week. Depending on work or other commitments, between three and 10 members attend each meeting. I have no way to compare our meetings to those on the street, but I do know that the meetings contribute significantly to my recovery and sobriety.

At first, all I did was attend meetings, listen, and share. Eventually, I chose a sponsor and worked the Steps. I know that none of these things is a “once and done” process. My nature is to say, “Okay, that’s done, what’s next?” The answer I’ve found is to help others, carry the message, and go back and work the Steps—again, again, and again.

I was bored when I sat down to write this. Writing is one of the many tools I use to dislodge lust from my mind. I write letters (I’m fortunate to have SA members to correspond with) or short stories. Reading is a major tool. I made a choice to not have TV. TV seems to be a major source of challenges for me, and it drains my time more than anything else.

I’m active. I work out, sing, and enjoy many other activities. My job here in prison is satisfying and offers positive challenges. Prayer, meditation, Bible study, SA meetings, Twelfth Step work, and being able to share my problems with others all contribute to my sobriety.

I cannot be complacent. It takes work—often hard work—to overcome lust. A friend of mine says, “Lust is outside in the parking lot, doing pushups, waiting for you.” I need to be working much harder than lust to ensure I can defeat it when the need arises.

And arise it does. I know it will, all the rest of my life. However, with the help of my Higher Power and the fellowship of SA, I will continue to have victory over my defects, one day at a time. I am grateful to all of you who choose to stand with me in troubled times.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

I wrote the above article in 2010. It’s now August 2012, and I’m free of that physical prison. However, I am still in the lifelong custody of lust, living in Toronto and slowly working on building a life for myself. My family chose not to include me in their lives, one of the many consequences of my actions—but I can’t do anything about that. When my Higher Power wants me to be included, He’ll let me know.

Since my release and deportation to Canada in November 2011, I’ve continued to be graced by the God of my understanding. I attended my first Toronto meeting at 7:00 a.m. on November 3, 2011. The SA fellowship here in Toronto is strong. We have more than 20 meetings a week. If I don’t attend a meeting it’s because I have made that choice, not because there is no meeting to attend—and attend them I do.

In the days after my return to Canada, I attended six to eight meetings a week. I needed the support and fellowship. I knew no one here, having lived about 100 kilometers (60 miles) away prior to my “visit” to Pennsylvania. This is a wonderful city, but living downtown, with all the advantages and disadvantages that brings, was a challenge to my sobriety at first. Without SA to help me stay grounded, connected, and aware I could not have celebrated four years of sobriety this past March.

I’m still triggered to lust by the same things, and I still use the same tools that I used in prison. Fortunately, I’ve been able to add some new items to my toolbox. The most important tool is my phone. I’ve heard that it’s the heaviest thing in the world to pick up, but that’s not true for me. I can lift it up and reach out anytime. A quick text can save me when I’m on the subway, walking, or in stores. Without the SA fellowship, there would be no one to reach out to.

I work the program any way I can: by attending meetings, doing service work, and working the Steps. I would love to attend a convention but I am barred from entry into the USA. However, by God’s grace, the Ontario fellowship recently brought some very wise SA old-timers to speak here. What a blessing! That was another wonderful step taken on the road to my recovery.

Each day I wake up and give thanks for my sobriety. I make the decision to be sober, just for today, and tomorrow will sort itself out. My ability to “let go and let God” grows and strengthens every day. I’ve learned to live much more in the present, thanks to this fellowship. Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, today is a gift. That’s why they call it the present.