The first time I was confronted with a naked picture of a man and woman, it was in an educational book my mother gave me when I was in second grade. Despite experiencing the familiar rush of the forbidden and climbing on my roof with my friend to look at the pictures, I felt uncomfortable with the images. When I tried to explain my discomfort to my mom, she suggested that I simply tear out the pages I did not like. That was the last piece of advice about sex I ever received from her.

I grew up essentially as an only child, as all of my half-brothers and half-sisters were older and were out of the house. The only brother I knew was two years older than I. When I was about three, he had an emotional breakdown and was put into foster care. I took note of the consequences of expressing emotion.

When I was five, my parents got divorced, and I went to live with my mother and my new stepfather. I quickly learned to be comfortable being by myself. This skill was useful when I moved to new schools five different times and had a hard time making friends. Somewhere along the way I became pretty good in math and most other subjects. I was adept in using computers, I had a responsible job in high school, and I held leadership roles in several activities. Despite my problems (few meaningful friendships, a non-nurturing home life, and being more than 50 pounds overweight), I actually did fairly well.

In the summer before my senior year in high school, my father died. Eight months later, my mother died. My stepfather made it clear how he felt about me when he declared, “I love you, but I don’t like you.” Expressing my emotions had never been easy, so with the death of my parents and the hurt of my stepfather’s comment, I suppressed my emotions and moved on with my life. Moving out of the house and going to college were easy. No strings attached. No family commitments. Nobody I needed (or wanted) to call home to.

I had many problems to overcome when I first went to college, but I successfully faced many of my new challenges. I took care of my housing, books, job, and food. I also discovered alcohol. Yet I had other problems that I did not know how to address. I was socially awkward: I was uncomfortable telling others about my life without feeling ashamed, and uncomfortable with their reaction of pity. I was not comfortable being me. To get by, I relied on two of my trusty strengths: using computers and being comfortable alone.

I quickly discovered online chat rooms. In 1992 chat was not easy, but I could use the school computer in the mainframe lab or access an early on-line community in the privacy of my dorm room. I had found a “safe” place to talk with others. Plus, I could lie to make myself more attractive.

Miraculously, I turned into an 18-year-old girl, a 14-year-old girl, or a 40-year-old housewife. (I found that posing a woman attracted the most attention from others.) But eventually I realized that I had no idea who was on the other end of the conversation. It might be just another lonely 18-year-old boy trying to connect with someone who cared, even if it was just for a few messages.

At the same time, my college roommates and I discovered pornographic movies. Now I no longer had to lie to get my fix! Achieving a “connection” was always assured. We would watch movies for hours. Before long, however, the movies became somewhat boring and awkward. We all knew where we went after the movies, but never discussed it. This “solution” was not sustainable.

Where would I get my fix now? Computers could solve my problem. I had a real job now, I had the trust of my boss and coworkers, and I was clearly the most knowledgeable about computers at the office. I would work late—later than everyone else. At first it was truly for work, but inevitably I would find myself in front of the one computer that had a modem. That was in 1993, and I found my first pornographic website. I no longer needed chat. I no longer needed to watch movies with friends. I had a solution. All was well.

In college I found a god, and it was me. I constructed a life loosely based on ideas from my Western Philosophy class. I took what I needed, left the rest, and developed a god of my own creation. I was feeling pretty comfortable with my place in life. I knew I was self-centered, but in my self-created world, that was where I belonged.

Then came marriage. Immediately after graduation, I moved in with my future wife. I found a new job in another city, and again moved my entire life to a new place. I brought everything with me, including my addiction.

It was not long before my wife caught me viewing pornography. Rather than addressing the problem, I suppressed any feeling of shame. I deserved pornography! I did not want to give it up, but I did not want to lose my wife, the one real person I had in my life. So I lied about the magnitude of what I was doing. I lied about why I used pornography (not that I truly knew myself). And I lied about my commitment to stop.

She bought it—or at least I thought she did—and again I solved my problem. I hid all traces of my pornography use. I never paid for pornography. I deleted all browser history and cookies. I “worked” late at the office. I found that travel was a perfect opportunity to act out for hours without getting caught.

But I kept getting caught. And I kept lying to and manipulating my wife. I tried to get her interested in pornographic videos. I kept doing what I had always done. I thought that if I lied a bit more, if I covered my tracks just a bit better, if I figured out new ways to get my fix without getting caught—then things would be okay. I even started seeing a sex addiction counselor to keep her off my back.

August 13, 2010 is the day I will always remember. The gig was up. My wife made it clear that she was not going to live with this any longer. I knew that she meant every word of it. This was a relief. I did not know if I could keep lying and hiding any longer. I had seen the boundaries of my own solutions dissolve. I had started buying magazines and had gotten sloppy about cleaning my trail. All my lies had been discovered. My addiction was unmanageable.

For the first time, I recognized the intercession of God in my life. My counselor recommended SA. I stopped acting out through a combination of shame, fear, and willpower—and I attended my first SA meeting in September 2010. As I started to absorb the SA program, shame, fear, and willpower were slowly being replaced with self-respect, hope, and surrender. That’s when I found true sobriety.

Meetings, meetings, meetings. Sobriety was working. I could tell others about myself and my history, and not feel ashamed. I could finally come clean with my wife, the people in my fellowship, and my therapist. Well, almost everything. I did not tell them about the fantasy. Why would I need to? It was all in my head, I never hurt anybody. Why cause more damage? Of course I couldn’t tell my wife I had a long-standing fantasy about one of her life-long friends and some other women in my life—but even with program members, I kept those fantasies to myself. So, despite my intention of sobriety, I was still living a life of willpower and not surrendering to God.

About seven months into the program I went to my first regional SA conference in Harrisburg, PA. This was overwhelming—so many different meetings and different rooms. All the meeting rooms were named for trees, but I couldn’t keep the names straight. Elm? Birch? Oak? By the grace of God, I went to a meeting I had intended to avoid. The topic was honesty, and I was confronted with the fact that I could not keep my secrets any longer. Every aspect of my life had become unmanageable.

That weekend I really connected with one person in the fellowship and admitted that I could no longer keep my secrets. I admitted I was powerless. I felt powerless. I started acting as if I were powerless, and I did something small but significant, about it. I called another member while at the conference and asked him to be my sponsor.

That call was one of the hardest phone calls I’ve ever made. I had almost never asked anybody for help, unless I was being manipulative. But I knew I could no longer use my strengths to solve my problems. God had finally given me so many challenges that I had to admit powerlessness. I came to finally see that there was a God in my life and it was not me.

Seasons have now passed. I’m in the process of making my Ninth Step amends. It was only after my Fourth Step that I began to fully see the destructive nature of my lust—especially the damage caused by the abuse of my “strengths.” I can see that I created a god of my own image, thinking that I had control of everything around me.

I can also see that I have abilities that help me be of service to others. I’ve taken responsibility as an Intergroup representative for my home group, and as secretary of our Intergroup. I participated in planning three of our local annual conferences. I love sharing the story of my life and recovery. I speak freely of God and the mutual loving relationship I have with Him.

But even when I use my strengths to benefit others, I must be careful that I don’t allow a sense of superiority to creep back in. Sometimes I find myself giving unsolicited advice rather than sharing my experience, strength, and hope. Sometimes I still try to use my “strengths” to cover my fears. I know that no matter what the situation, I am a true lustaholic.

I’ve come to see how, as described in the White Book, lust is using a natural instinct to achieve an unnatural desire. All of my character strengths are natural instincts, just as physical attraction, sex, and masturbation are natural. I’ve used all of these natural instincts to numb any feelings I felt I could not handle. I now do my best to turn to my fellows and to God and admit my powerlessness over those feelings. I find that I’m able to accept the feelings of hurt, fear, and shame when they are present and not always try to solve them. I am powerless.

I have now been blessed with over three years of sobriety. When I’m not vigilant, I sometimes still turn to lust. I might turn on the TV when I’m tired, or play games on my phone when I’m bored, or find different ways to isolate myself so I do not have to feel uncomfortable. I know that when I cover my feelings with other activities, it interferes with my life and my recovery. I cannot use my strengths to solve these issues. I must continuously turn to God and ask Him for His love and grace so I can let Him do for me what I cannot do for myself.

But even though I still struggle with my willpower, every day things get a bit easier. I look forward to my morning reflections and my three regular SA meetings. I am constantly grateful and amazed at what God does in my life. I have a relationship with my wife in recovery that is built on a foundation of honesty. I have a group of SA friends who know me well. I’m learning to embrace the struggles of my life as well as the shame and resentment associated with my past.

I’m grateful to SA for all of these things, and I look forward to carrying the message to others so that they too may experience freedom from lust.