I’ve learned a lot in the past seven-plus years that I’ve been in recovery. I’ve learned that knowledge (like half measures) avails me nothing. Primarily, it does not get me the one thing I cannot get on my own: sobriety.

In the past—even before recovery—there were times when life seemed manageable. I even had stretches of days and weeks when I wasn’t acting out in my disease. But I could not stay sober. I never surrendered lust because I was using knowledge as my Higher Power, and with that came my delusions of power—and thus came my half measures of recovery. This included working some Steps, making some meetings, and taking some direction from a sponsor in another fellowship.

My half-measures were where the insanity lay. I made up my own definitions for pornography and masturbation. I defined pornography as material that I either read, heard, or viewed which contained “raw” sex. I defined masturbation as stimulating myself to climax. Anything outside of those definitions did not count as porn or masturbation—according to my definition. I knew I was lying, but no one ever called me out for being a liar or said that I wasn’t sober—until July 14, 2015.

Two weeks before that, I was headed into the abyss when I fasted a religious fast. I was feeling sick, and I didn’t check in with a sober member or with a rabbi. I lusted with fantasy that day and stormed out of my bungalow in Upstate New York, driving three hours back to the city where I could be alone. Since for the past two years I had already been watching porn (which I didn’t call porn) and touching myself while aroused (which I didn’t call masturbation), this new bout of lust was driving me as only lust does to an addict of the hopeless kind, like me.

Within a few days I was acting out with a deeper level of exhibitionism than I had ever done before. I reached out—for the first time—to an SA member who had the kind of sobriety I wanted, but which I did not believe I could get. I shared two things with him. First, that I was acting out big time but calling myself sober, and second, I was still attending another S-fellowship.

This man called me out for real. He asked why I was still attending the other fellowship, and I actually said, “To carry the message of lust versus sex,” to which he laughed in my face. He said that made no sense, as I was seriously lusting and could not carry any message. I will be forever grateful to him for speaking to me so freely. I acted out that afternoon with pornography and masturbation (by my old definition), and I felt so low that I did not want to go to a meeting. But that night I went to an AA meeting (I’ve been sober in AA since March 16, 2014), and I took a seat next to an SA friend who also attends AA. While waiting for the meeting to start, I asked this man to be my sponsor, and he agreed. For the first time in over seven years I had an SA sponsor!

Today I accept SA’s sobriety definition; I no longer define anything myself. My sponsor told me to attend 90 meetings in 90 days, make three calls a day, start writing my Step One, call him every day and share a lust and a feeling, meet him once a week, and stay honest with my wife. And so far it has worked: last Thursday I celebrated 30 days of SA sobriety.

I hadn’t planned to go to the meeting that night. I really didn’t want to get a chip because I did not want to lose the feeling of pain of hitting bottom on July 14—which was the basis of my new total surrender. But one of the people I’ve called every day was about to celebrate one year of sobriety, and he insisted that I show up to get my chip. So I took my chip and shared how I did it: by asking for and finally getting the help I needed from SA.

After the meeting, a sober member approached me. I always loved and respected this gentle, loving, and rock-solid sober member. He gave me the 30-day chip he had received when he celebrated his first 30 days some years before—and this was by far the most emotional experience of my life. This amazing man told me that his sponsor told him he couldn’t keep it unless he gave it away, and he was now giving it to me, and he hoped I would do the same down the road. I cried and hugged him, and I still feel emotional when I think about his gift.

As a chronic slipper I would always say, “This time I mean business” (AA 5) and then eventually that strange mental twist would hit me and I would drink in lust until I acted out. This last time it took two years of lust-drinking until I hit that bottom but man, am I glad I did—because it’s great to be sober today.

P.S. Today, November 12, 2015, I received my four-month chip.