This past Christmas, as always, I dug out the extension cords I had so neatly wrapped up and put away a year ago. Within minutes, I found myself dealing with a tangled mess of wires. In frustration I asked the age-old question, “How could this happen when I was being so careful?”

My life really is changing as a result of my participation in recovery.

As addicts, we look at our glass of life as being half empty. Our self-centered expectations are to have a full glass or even better, have the glass overflowing. Life is not fair: others have full glasses, why shouldn’t we? We are jealous of those with glasses fuller than ours.

The Internet is one of the greatest dangers to sobriety for many sexaholics. Pornography is just a click away. There are some boundaries that work, and others that don’t. It seems that we can get around most any boundary.

In a recent issue of ESSAY, a series of thought-provoking questions were posed in an article entitled “What If?” Each question challenged us to ask what difference it might make if we believed the SA program of recovery could have a significant effect in our lives. As I read each statement, I tried to remember how I felt when I first came into SA more than ten years ago and wondered if this program could work for me.

I have found in my recovery that when I begin to think about my past in terms of what I do not like about myself, i.e., “I shouldn’t have looked at that woman like that,” or “Why can’t I be trustworthy?” or “I can’t believe the things I have done in the past,” or “I can’t believe how sick I am,” and on and on… I am setting myself up for contracting a bad case of shame and guilt.

I find my greatest effort is to get the focus off of me and onto others. If I am doing my utmost to be of service to others, I am in a relationship with my God. I don’t have to look anymore!

Indeed, the attainment of greater humility is the foundation principle of each of A.A.’s Twelve Steps. For without some degree of humility, no alcoholic can stay sober at all. (Twelve and Twelve p. 70)
I have been asking myself just what the difference is between the Third Step prayer and the Seventh Step prayer. Both emphasize turning everything over to a Higher Power.

One of our local groups meets in a church building that is usually empty on Thursday nights. It was surprising, then, to find the parking lot half full of cars, and people of all descriptions milling around out front.

The small church we attend cannot afford professional cleaning, so the members take turns doing it. My wife and I are on the rotation schedule, and this week was our turn. It only takes a couple of hours or so.

Before working the Steps, I thought humble meant humiliated. I thought it meant being embarrassed, feeling less than, angry, and losing my self-respect. If a task was too big for me, I was too small to be worthwhile. I learned that I was less than I should be, that there was something wrong with me.

Before recovery, I tried to appear squeaky clean. I tried to hide my mistakes and my whole shadow side. Nothing was ever my fault. I would point out someone else’s weaknesses as a smokescreen, but I never drew attention to my own. I was alternately in denial or in despair about my character defects and the hopelessness of my life.

We recovery folks have a lot of dirty words. Surrender is definitely one of them. Yet I glibly renew my intention to surrender to God each time I do my daily renewal. So what do I know, or need to come to know, about surrender?

You write to me that the group you started and tried to hold together is gone.

Before recovery, whenever I tried to stop acting out, my life went insane. I started doing stuff that was so strange that I thought I was literally losing my mind. I’ve since learned that what I was doing is not all that uncommon. I simply couldn’t cope with living without acting out.

Six years ago my life was a sewage pit of porn, masturbation, promiscuity, homosexuality, bestiality, incest, and dozens of other things I thought I absolutely needed to get through the day. I would get sick of what I was doing. My wife and my boss threatened me. I would swear that I’d never do it again. And yet, despite my best intentions, my best efforts, within days (or at most weeks), I was back doing the same things again and again.

How many sexaholics does it take to change a light bulb?

I work in a building with three elevators. Because it’s an older facility, sometimes one of the elevators isn’t working. Usually that’s not a big deal; it just means waiting a few minutes longer to get upstairs to my work area. The other day, however, I came to work to find that two elevators were down.

Here is a practical tool which helps me turn my eyes, my thoughts, my mouth, and my ears in the right direction in the morning, pointing towards my recovery rather than my relapse.

Yielding to lust
warped my mind
tainted my vision
tore my heart
bent my soul.