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:

Some sexaholics say they had euphoric recall—making it sound pleasant. Today, I realize it is addictive craving and delusional thinking.

In my addiction, I isolated. No real friends. No real connections.

There is a good story in the AA Big Book, called “Acceptance Was the Answer.” The author writes, “At last, acceptance proved to be the key to my drinking problem,” and goes on to say, “And acceptance is the answer to all my problems today.”

Why do I do things the hard way? For example, the other day I was lying awake in bed and kept slipping into a sexually explicit fantasy. I would catch myself, stop, pray, find myself slipping back into it again, catch myself, stop, pray, and so on.

In a recent counseling session, I heard the well-worn phrase, “There are two types of people in this world….” Immediately I started guessing what my counselor was going to say. Men and women? Bright and stupid? Addicts and co-dependents?

I believe I was a sexaholic at ten years old. I remember at that age undressing the girls in my classroom with my eyes. In my mind the girls were nothing more than robots.

Dear SA,
My Sponsor by Mail suggested I write to SAICO to request being put on the mailing list to receive ESSAY. Receiving and reading it will help me, and I can also share it with our SA group here at the prison.

Thank you for all your hard work! I especially appreciate the new literature and pamphlets. It would be so nice if there were a way to order the White Book through SAICO, if at all possible. Keep up the good work and service. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

How It Doesn’t Work
1. We admitted we were powerless over nothing—that we could manage our lives perfectly, and those of anyone else who would allow us to do so.

Because SA was so new when I came in, there were very few people with even one year’s sobriety. I wanted to hear from people who had a lot of experience, strength and hope in working the Steps. So I started attending a great AA Twelve and Twelve meeting.

Are you struggling as a lone woman in a meeting room full of men? We know how scary that can be! We need to be accessible to the newcomer as well as the old-timer woman. What can we do to help?

In October 2003, three of us sat down to have the first-ever meeting of the Norcross group of SA in northeast Atlanta. At that time there were not many groups meeting in the Atlanta area. We decided that the group would be open to all members of SA, and that the newcomer would be the most important person at any meeting.

Like most children, I was fascinated by my shadow. I loved to see how it was connected to my feet, how it moved with my motions, how it came and went with the sunshine. After a time, however, my shadow became just another part of me, moving through the day. I lost my awareness of its place in my life.