Asking for something means that I am not in control of the outcome. I may get what I asked for, I may not. It may look like I expect it to, it may not. I never was very comfortable with this before. I strove to set up my life so that no one could refuse me what I wanted. Sometimes I demanded, sometimes I manipulated, sometimes I threatened, but I never just asked and let go of the outcome.

One of the concepts that I learned early on in SA was that the problem was not my behavior, the problem was my thinking. Acting out starts in my mind. If I entertain lust, it eventually will lead to acting out. In order to relapse, I have to have made the decision to allow lust in my mind without having surrendered it, probably repeatedly.

I have so often felt that if only I could achieve a certain level of skill playing the guitar or learn enough history, politics, math, and science as I felt I wanted or needed to, I could then be the person I wanted to be. Then everything would be okay, and I could live a meaningful and happy life. Of course I could never be accomplished enough in my own estimation no matter how well I performed or how much I knew.

That’s the message my addicted mind keeps trying to send to my Higher Power. It has never ceased to amaze me how God lets me get away with being as stupid as I want to be sometimes!

Here are two ways I practice Step 12:

Recently my sponsor in another 12-Step program pointed out a sentence in the Big Book that I hadn’t paid special attention to before. It comes in Chapter 11, A Vision For You. The reading has to do, in part, with events surrounding a business trip by Bill W., the co-founder of AA, when he was just six months sober.

I attended family counseling for six years; my wife was crazy and she wasn’t getting any better. Did it have anything to do with the fact that I was having several simultaneous affairs? I was a respected professional in a small town. Some of the women were my clients. This was in violation of the ethics of my profession and whatever ethics I might have thought I had for my marriage.

Two Trustees rotated from service: Dorene S. and Maria G.
Other Trustees were affirmed for another year of service: Luc B. and Lawrence M.

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

The following suggested policy on how to deal with abuse disclosed at meetings first appeared in the ESSAY in October 1990. It is reprinted here at the request of the Delegates and Trustees, who discussed this and related issues at the General Delegate Assembly meeting in St. Louis, on July 7.

Thank you God for SA with a very tough bottom line; recovery came to me because of this program. Thank you for teaching me that every person has dignity. No matter what their station in life, economic status, addictions, and illness, no matter what they’ve done—every person has dignity.

“Sounds like you are feeling better.”
Those were the words uttered by my sponsor when I called in despair over a financial predicament I was working through during a career transition.

Sometimes, in meetings, I would share about the “amazing insights” I had, but these are all things I now see in my rear-view mirror. My motives and drivers were revealed to me after I did the work of the Steps. My insights did not lead to recovery. They are knowledge I had been given as the result of working the Steps.

While working for the radio industry as a disc jockey, I was trained to avoid dead air in my work. Pushing buttons, speaking, starting programs on time was very important. Timing, down to the second, in every hour was accounted for. Two seconds of “nothing” on the radio seemed an eternity, and was often cause for unemployment if done repeatedly.

A story out of the old West tells about a stagecoach owner interviewing applicants for driver. He stood at a dangerous curve on a winding mountain road where one side dropped hundreds of feet sharply into the canyon below. The owner asked, “Driving six horses at full speed, how close can you come to the edge of the cliff and not go over?”

As a biologist, I have studied several different types of fungi (e.g. yeast, ringworm, mushrooms, mold, athlete’s foot, etc.). Recently, I discovered an unfamiliar form of fungus: fantasy. Fantasy grows quietly in the mind. Like the other fungi, fantasy flourishes in dark, damp, undisturbed places.

As a child, I was lonely. I may have felt love-deprived or full of harbored resentment, but I needed some sort of outlet. Then I discovered a strange pet: Lust. This little creature seemed harmless as I studied it with my wide, innocent eyes. The most convenient thing about my pet was that I could keep it a secret from the rest of the world.

Before joining the Program, I didn’t realize how mean I was to my wife. It’s not that she’s perfect; after all, she married me. But something would happen, I’d get angry because something wasn’t going right, and I’d yell at her. I’d often blame her for things she had nothing to do with. Or I’d just yell at her because I was upset.

I have amends to make to some people. A few years ago, I abused four women, and I hurt two others for terribly selfish reasons. The four women were prostitutes. They were working in that abusive industry here in my own locality. Two were on the street, one was listed in the classified ads, and one worked in a “studio,” a sanitized name for a brothel.

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