My name is Marie W., I’m a sexaholic, and my sobriety date is August 20, 2005. I came into SA because I was afraid I would die if I didn’t. I had started including self-inflicted pain in my acting out behaviors. Today, because of SA, I’m learning to let go of old behaviors and replace them with healthy ones.

When I was six, my life changed forever. My parents divorced and I moved with my mom from California to New Mexico. Then she remarried, and I had a new stepdad and a new stepbrother, who was eight. My new dad was an alcoholic and mom raged against his drinking. Their fights were scary. My mom was also often angry with my stepbrother. When he defied her, she would hit him with a belt. I felt powerless to stop her.

When I was 11, I found the solution to all my problems: masturbation! When I was 13, my stepbrother found something better than masturbation for him: he found me. At first, this seemed like an amicable relationship. He would touch me in ways that felt great. Then we would have sex, which I found unsatisfying and boring. One day he suggested that we do what our dad’s pornographic magazine showed. I said no, and he accepted that. But the amicable relationship ended the night he came into my bedroom and wanted me sexually—while my two younger sisters were sleeping in the same room. My refusal did not matter to him. I was so scared that I blanked out everything sexual that happened between us from that moment on. I still don’t know what happened that night.

After my first semester in college, when I was 17, my boyfriend broke up with me. His best friend listened to me share my sad story. When I told him what a great “big brother” he was, he said that he didn’t want to be my big brother. Then he kissed me. He was 20. I started dating him, and our relationship quickly became sexual. I had been sexually active since I was 11, but I never dreamed that sex could be like this!

Nine months later, we were married. I had decided I wanted him to be the father of my children. We didn’t have much money in college but we were good friends, and he was always teaching me how to do fun things. I became a nurse, and when my husband graduated from college he joined the Air Force. I worked the 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. shift at the hospital, and when I got off work, my husband would want to have sex even though I said no because I needed my sleep.

When we got married, we had no idea how to resolve conflicts. We would argue, and the person who yelled the loudest would win. One night when I was yelling as loud as my husband was, he slapped me. I told him if he ever did that again I would get the butcher knife and stab him in the gut until he was dead. He knew that I meant it. One month later, my husband was scheduled to fly in a routine training mission. He was a navigator of an F-4 fighter jet. The night before, he had asked me whether he should take some medicine for a problem he was having. He knew that if he took it he couldn’t fly. I told him that I could not make the choice for him—and he flew the next day and died playing war games with the 8th Army in Germany.

I was devastated. I felt responsible for his death. When my husband died, I was 32, and we had two children—an eight-year-old boy and a six-year-old girl. Later I was able to be grateful that my husband hadn’t died three years earlier in Vietnam, because my children had more time with him. And just this past year, when I shared my husband’s story with a war veteran, he said to me “Your husband died doing what he loved doing!” What a gift! The remorse I had felt was lifted.

But when he died, I needed something to fill the void. I started taking classes at the local university, but my addict took over. In six months I had sexual encounters with 26 different men. I was always looking for the high that would stop the pain. Instead, I felt used, lost, and worthless.

Between school during the day and meeting men at night, I don’t remember who was taking care of my children. I do know that they had to walk home from school by themselves, unlock the door, turn off the alarm, and go inside—not knowing when their mamma would be home and knowing their daddy would never be home. Sometimes my son couldn’t turn the alarm off fast enough. Then a neighbor would come and turn it off.

One day I focused my anger on my son and used a belt on him—just as my mother had used a belt on my stepbrother. That lasted three weeks before I stopped. He never cried. As an adult he has said he doesn’t remember this, but that is a very shameful part of my past.

Eventually my acting out behaviors began to scare me. I was seeking pain in my acting out, and there was never enough pain to get the high I wanted. I knew my behavior would kill me. So I went to my first SA meeting in 2005.

Eight men were sitting around a table when I arrived, and they moved over and made room for me. Right away I felt at home. I felt comfortable with them. Amazingly, there was no lust in their eyes. They accepted me as a person, just another addict—and not an object.

Soon after that I asked an SA woman at a nearby meeting to be my sponsor. Her first assignment for me was to use the “Daily Sobriety Renewal” questions with other women. She told me to read and answer the questions with as many different women as possible every day for 30 days. She added, “Don’t visit; just do the Renewal! If you want to visit, call back at a different time. And don’t worry if you miss a day, just start your counting all over again!” This helped me focus on my sobriety and connect, and I enjoyed talking with other SA women.

Writing my First Step was especially painful for me at first. Looking at all of my acting out behaviors brought up all sorts of feelings, and I feared that I would act out to stop the pain. So I went to my sponsor’s house and sat at her table to write, while she was in another room. Eventually I could write at home, but my sponsor told me to “bookend” my writing sessions by calling another member before and after each session. That helped me feel safe. If I got too scared I would stop and call someone.

As I continued working the Steps, each one brought me new insight. Steps Eight and Nine were especially powerful for me. I remember making amends to my son and daughter for my neglect of them when they were very young. I told them that I had placed my wants above their needs, that I was selfish and inconsiderate, that I put inappropriate responsibilities on them, and that I abandoned them physically and emotionally. Much to my surprise, they accepted my amends, and today my relationships with my children are so much better than before. Because of SA, I am able to be loving rather than abusive, and my children frequently show their love for me. My daughter has asked me to give her “job notes,” suggesting things she can do for me when she comes to visit. And recently, my 45-year-old son swept my floor without being asked!

God has even used my experience to benefit others. Once, when I shared on an SA panel about my abuse of my children, an audience member spoke with me afterward. He said he had struggled with making amends to his parents because of the abuse that he had suffered from them. “But,” he said, “a piece of the puzzle came home today. I never heard my mother’s part of story; thank you for that.” He accepted my expression of grief as his mother’s amends! This was a powerful example of how God can transform my life through SA, and how He can use even my worst experiences to benefit others.

As I continue working the SA program, I find that my life becomes progressively more joyful and more peaceful. Early in sobriety I found myself lusting after the men in my meetings; now they are brothers and friends who I love in a healthy way. I have healthy relationships with both men and women friends inside and outside the program. In the past I would isolate from my family. Now I invite my four adult children and their families to my home. We eat and talk or play games. I can listen to them now and enjoy what’s going on in their lives. We are connected. What a gift!

Today I know that I don’t have to be sexual or change who I am in order to be accepted or loved. I know who I am. I am no longer that wooden Indian standing on the corner, smiling and waving at the kids at school as they walked by. I am a sober 72-year-young woman who finds joy in loving life, people, sky, trees, flowers, and all the other gifts that God has given us in this world and in my life.

I could have never done this alone. I am so grateful to my sponsors who said “Do what I tell you” (and I did), the SA program, and all the SA fellowship members who have encouraged me with their criticism, praise, experience, strength, and hope. But most of all, I am grateful to my Higher Power, Who, through SA, has surprised me with peace and joy.