Okay, I understood that part about no sex with anyone other than the spouse. Heck, that’s what got me to Sexaholics Anonymous in the first place. But no sex with myself? Who were these guys kidding? Didn’t they understand that if I refrained from sex with self, something terrible would happen? I might even die, or explode, or something equally dire.

I stood in disbelief. The computer screen had three emails from women at work that I was acting out with. My wife was crying, asking me, “Why?” I was in shock. I stood there physically present, but emotionally far, far away. I was numb to my feelings, to my life, and to myself.

Hi there, Billy here from New Zealand. Just thought I should drop you a note to tell you we are still in existence here in New Zealand.

My first year in recovery was about avoiding triggers. That was disastrous because what I was really practicing was avoidance. If only I don’t see x, or y, or z, I won’t be tempted. It didn’t work. It only made me more sensitive to triggers.

“Progressive victory over lust” is often the hurdle that humbles me in my own program. My lust can, in a heartbeat, zero in on just about anything: sexualizing people, overeating, disappearing into TV, lying, pretending to be someone other than who I am, the list goes on and on. The solution has always been the same: reaching out and giving, of my time, my experience, my caring, my love; giving some of the “real” me to someone else.

My name is Bill and I’m a grateful and recovering sexaholic, actively involved in SA for almost ten years. I’ve been blessed with the grace to maintain sobriety, and by all appearances seemed to be working a solid program. However, somewhere along the path in the last few years, complacency set in.

My addiction has forced me to examine myself. As a result, I have uncovered a part of me that has long been buried: anger. Now that it has been brought to the surface, I’m seeing the reasons for my anger. SA is giving me healthy alternatives to resentment and bitterness.

Serenity did not come my way very often in recovery. I rationalized that my Higher Power must be withholding it from me because there were special plans in the works for me.

In the past, a big part of the reason why I felt that I had little value as a person was because I did not own valuable things. I didn’t own a fancy car, live in a dream house, or flaunt a stylish wardrobe; I didn’t have an impressive career in which I could rub elbows with the rich and popular.

Yesterday I got a call from one of our members who has struggled with staying sexually sober. He had a business trip scheduled that would take him a couple of hundred miles from home and through some towns where he typically would stop at slippery places. He would set himself up to act out when he arrived at his destination.

If you are a newcomer to SA, you may have the same opinion of the saying “Keep coming back, it works if you work it” that I did when I first started attending meetings. Whenever people got all excited talking about the power of those two simple principles—go to meetings, work the Steps—I often felt they were misguided or brainwashed, or maybe even a little crazy.

For many of us who are new to SA, one of the most important tools in our recovery toolbox may be compassion—for others certainly, but compassion for ourselves most of all.

My first sexual experience was with my uncle when I was nine years old. This grew into a full-blown homosexual relationship that lasted until I was eighteen. When it began, I was starved for acceptance and love, and I needed to feel wanted. When he chose me, I felt special.

We are grateful to SAICO for your support to our worldwide fellowship, and we are privileged to contribute to your efforts. Most of our group projects are coordinated with our Intergroup: Fall marathons, Spring retreats, Pass-the-Message Committee, Phone Committee (now with email, too), among others.

[An attempt to put together the 12 Steps, Traditions and Promises after the dog ate my Step work.]

When I first read this Step in the White Book I thought it was the simplest of the Twelve. After all, it’s only a “decision.” I figured the Step would take me all of five minutes, mirroring the experience described in the personal story “Flooded With Feeling” in Alcoholics Anonymous.

I don’t just have a problem with sex—I have a problem with life. And whenever I forget this fact and begin thinking I’ve gained control of my life, that is when I am without defense against the first drink of lust.

I am addicted to an attitude. This is very different than being hooked on something that is outside my body, like drugs or alcohol. I am powerless over an attitude that involves instincts other than my sexual instinct.

Every morning while the water is heating for my coffee, I write in the notebook I always carry in my pocket. This is in the form of a personal letter to God on the following topics: my feelings, how I am doing, and what I am harboring.

Why am I here?
Dear God, help me find these twelve rewards: