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.

Hi, I am Judy, a sexaholic.
I live in a small town in North Idaho. When I was six months sober, God and I started a meeting. It was small, but it lasted for three and a half years, and was instrumental in my sobriety. Then the meeting folded, and I was without a face-to-face meeting.

I work in an office building, and there are many members of the opposite sex that I find attractive. That is God’s handiwork. It is not their fault that I am sexaholic, neither is it mine. But it is my responsibility to practice recovery.

During the summer of 2005, I took a week’s vacation with my wife. While there, I experienced some difficulty in dealing with the mass of bodies, often partially dressed or dressed in a way which I found provocative. Coming home to a normal way of life was a relief, a liberation.

As I progress in the discovery of my true self, I often come upon the “Reality Check.” This is the time when I recognize the truth of who I really am on the inside. I may catch myself thinking, “I snapped at a moment’s notice! I flew off the handle.”

When I first came into the program, I had been a part of a prayer community. I thought I had a relationship with God. How surprised I was to learn the opposite! Not only did I not have a genuine relationship with God, I tried to manipulate Him in my everyday circumstances. I wanted to be God!

My neighbors have a large, angry dog which used to threaten my family as we walked by their house. I would raise my voice, stamp my feet and loudly command the dog, “No, go home!” The first couple of times it seemed to work, if only because the neighbor heard me, came to the door and called the dog home.

I’ve been grappling with the word enough. My mind wrestles with expectations around this concept. If I just do enough of the right things, then my wife will be kind to me; the internet won’t bother me; I won’t have to call my sponsor as much; I won’t feel so fearful, resentful, or angry.

“Sobriety is God’s gift to me, and I have to do something with it.” I spoke those words in a dream. Upon waking, my entire mind was focused on that one statement. With that one thought, my entire view of recovery has changed. Now I see that each day God offers me a gift of sobriety. He wants me to be sober. All I have to do is choose to accept it.

I believe that Steps One and Two are by far the hardest Steps, because they require no work—only belief and conviction born out of suffering. I was deluded about my understanding of Steps One and Two for many years. I hadn’t suffered enough, I hadn’t believed enough, and my conviction to change was weak.

As a teenager, I was pushed into treatment. I learned about Twelve Step programs there and worked my way through Step Five, but it was only the barest of beginnings and I really didn’t understand how the Steps worked. I loved the program, the history, the meetings, the instant friends everywhere, and the fellowship. I took on many service jobs. My understanding of recovery was to go to lots of meetings, participate in the fellowship, and have fun.

ESSAY is an essential and vital link to the fellowship for a loner, like me, without meetings available and very limited contact with other members of SA.