Even as a child I had a sensitivity to noise. I came from a large family, and our house was always noisy and chaotic, with everybody talking at once. There also was a lot of yelling. I used to escape to the woods near our house for some peace and quiet. I liked to listen to the quiet rustling of the trees and hear the soft singing of the birds.

My tale begins over 12 years ago. At the time, I observed that—as I walked from my car to a downtown SA meeting—I would often notice the women coming toward me or even across the road or on the sidewalk, and smile at them. Sometimes what I noticed about them turned to fantasy, and I would have to surrender this during the subsequent meeting.

One of the ways I continued in my addiction and acting out was by going to SA meetings (no, that is not a typo!). That was because “going to meetings” was all I wanted to do to stop acting out. I wanted an “easier, softer way” (AA 58). I wanted to design my own program, and that meant just going to meetings.

While I was growing up, our family attended church twice on Sunday and again on Wednesday nearly every week. This gave me a good exposure to God and to the church. I didn’t always enjoy attending church, but something was planted within me. I believed in a punishing God, but at least I believed in God.

On September 18, 2013, I celebrated five years of SA sobriety. While I realize that five years is only a benchmark and that I still have much to learn, I’ve been so excited by what I’ve already learned in SA that I would like to share it with you. And I would like to compare my life to a cup, having an inside and an outside. In recovery, I’ve learned some healthy tools for maintaining both the inside and the outside of the cup.

When I first came to SA, my world had just exploded. My last acting out partner had called my wife and told her what I’d been doing. My wife learned about a long list of behaviors that I was none too proud of. My loving, even-tempered wife responded to that call by picking up the pot roast she had just prepared for dinner and throwing it at me.

On March 13, 2014, John C. of Rochester, NY passed away. He was a real beacon to those of us who knew and interacted with him. This included sponsors, sponsees, fellow SA members here and around the world, and members of SA’s International service structure.

I woke up this morning thanking God. Then I prayed this simple prayer: “God grant that I may love Thee always and follow Thy will. Do with me according to Thy will.” Then I did my daily readings. It wasn’t always that way. Today I’m enjoying over three years of sexual sobriety. But again, it wasn’t always that way….

We are grateful for a significant increase in the fourth quarter fellowship contributions. As a result, 2013 income came in slightly under budget. Expenses exceeded income by $18,749. The Prudent Reserve ended the year 2.2% ($3,544) below its requirement. The outlook for 2014 is not encouraging.

I need to tell you something about myself: I’m a tightwad, a penny-pincher, a moneygrubbing cheapskate. There, I’ve said it. I used to prefer sex with self, mainly because that was the cheapest option.

SA’s International Committee will sometimes receive a request from a member to fund an expensive meeting location, because of difficulties finding an affordable space in a desired location. I’ve heard the reasoning that affordable meeting places cannot be easily found outside the USA.

In December 2013, after months of planning and anticipation, eight SA members finally gathered in Istanbul, Turkey, at the intersection of Europe and Asia, in the shadow of St. Sophia Cathedral and the Blue Mosque. Four more unlikely countries coming together would have been hard to imagine—we were three from Russia, two from Iran, two from the UK, and one from the US.

I’m Dennis and I’m an alcoholic. I’m sharing with you in this issue of ESSAY because I have the extraordinary honor of serving you as a trusted servant—as a Class A (non-sexaholic) Trustee. I’ve believed for some time now that trusted servants are those who earn the trust of those they serve, rather than the other way around. With that in mind, I would like to share a bit about myself, in the hope of earning your trust.

My name is Tom M.; I’ve been sexually sober since December 2007. As I work the Steps and continue in the SA fellowship, I find that my life is so much better. An important part of my recovery has been the serenity prayer. A key concept of this prayer is that I need to “accept the things I cannot change”—and, since I can change very little around me, I need to focus on acceptance.

I’m now eight years sober, thanks to the grace of my Higher Power, the help of my sponsor, and the encouragement of program meetings. I have not seen many beatific moments in my recovery, but there has been steady, plodding growth as I work my program one day at a time.

This autumn, I’ve been raking leaves in the yard and on the driveway. As I pull the piles of leaves together and get ready to put them in the wheelbarrow, I find the same refrain running through my head: “I want to quit doing this!” In practice, I just keep raking.

Hamburg, Germany at Christmastime! I had the good fortune to visit this beautiful city in early December, as part of a trade delegation of about 35 folks—mainly elected officials, business people, and government types from our region.

When I came back to SA in 2010, I think I was spiritually dead. The White Book’s description of spiritual death described me exactly. Although religious, I was deeply depressed and isolated. I had just crashed my way out of yet another career and yet another marriage. I was ready to die. I had survived a suicide attempt.

As hard it was to admit that I am an addict, it was equally hard to admit that I am insane. However, based on Google’s second definition of insanity—“extreme foolishness or irrationality”—I clearly am. Everything about my addiction has been foolish or irrational.

The other day a friend called me with a question. He said that, at an SA meeting he attended the day before, he discovered that he had the most sobriety in the room. He asked me whether he could learn anything from a meeting where he has the most sobriety. I told him that—no matter how much sobriety I have—God is able to speak to me through other members with less sobriety.