My life has been a succession of moments, the next one always building on the results of this one, this one having resulted from the fruits of the last one, good or bad. In the past, I failed to understand the impact my decisions would have on my attitudes, habits, cravings, and expectations. I also did not consider the effects of my decisions on others. I was not exempt from the spiritual laws of cause and effect, but in my arrogance I thought I was.

Time marched on, becoming little more than the measure of how long it had been since my self-centered craving was satisfied in some twisted way, and how long it would take until my craving demanded to be fed once more. Plans and fantasies of giving lust what it demanded burned away the energy I could have used to benefit others.

This all became clear to me one day, when the pain of my actions spilled over into the lives of those I claimed to love. It wasn’t enough for lust to simply destroy me, it also sought to harm everyone I touched. That’s the true nature of lust: it takes without caring, with a ravenous appetite that cannot be appeased. It seeks sex, security, and status—but these things do not offer life or happiness. I was suddenly overcome by this awful awareness but felt helpless to do anything about it.

Once, when I could see no way to stop acting out, I put a gun in my mouth and informed God that if He would not stop me, I’d stop myself. He called my bluff. Apparently, God does not respond well to the coercion I used against other people. The addict in me was an absolutist, always seeing things in black or white. I knew that God wanted me to confess my crimes—that the act of revealing my past and present was the only way out. But my lust-filled brain rebelled at this idea.

Killing myself seemed a nice shortcut. The problem was that it would not really be an act of surrender, but rather my last attempt to control lust (which still would have won, had I died). I was blind to the fact that lust desired to consume my life. With my failed suicide attempt, I accepted what appeared to be my fate: a life of misery, harming others and myself, lost in despair.

Eventually, I had another moment of clarity and recognized the real culprit: my self-centered fear. “What will happen to me if I’m found out? I will be incarcerated. My wife will leave me. My children will hate me. I won’t be respected. I’ll be persecuted.”

I had a disproportionate amount of concern for my own welfare as opposed to the welfare of those I was harming. No wonder lust kept having its way with me. Self-obsession obscured the big picture. The delusion that I was more important than the rest of the universe—instead of just another piece of it—was magnified and bolstered by the fears that ruled my thought life. Moment after moment, attitudes, habits, cravings, and expectations piled up on top of one another, covering the purity that my life was intended to express, and delaying any potential for compassion, kindness, and self-sacrifice. Gratefully, I became aware of this mess. My time had come to climb out of it.

At this point I encountered God (as I understood God) tucked away in my spirit. Change for the better began. My old attitudes, habits, cravings, and expectations began to be transformed into awareness, discipline, contentment, and acceptance. My life began to be restored and filled with a new purpose. I became aware of the wreckage I had created and discovered a solution, one that could keep me safe while also protecting the safety of the ones I had the potential to harm.

All of this happened after I began asking God for help, instead of expecting God to meet my own demands. Having been introduced to SA some years before, I knew that my next step was to return. So, in March 2006, I walked into a meeting, looking for a miracle.

When I first revealed my crimes to my home group, the members did something so unexpected that it tore apart everything I believed about myself. They took me as I was and loved me. Their compassion and empathy were so overwhelming that I found the faith to follow their suggestions. With these new friends—and a growing sense of connection with the God of my understanding—lust began to lose its power.

More amazing was the feeling that came over me the first time I was able to extend the same love and compassion to another addict who was still lost. Suddenly, everything made sense. Here is life at its most fundamental purpose: sharing myself with others, expecting nothing in return, yet being filled up to overflowing. I have learned from my home group that when I help others, my life is saved from the living hell of craving. Love is all that endures.

With the help of those who had gone before, the path for me became obvious. I had to take a hard look at myself, make restitution for wrongs done to others, seek a better way of life, and be committed to helping the sick and suffering. I summoned my courage and went to my wife, confessing my past.

Also, because I had harmed others sexually and wanted them to get the help they deserved, I revealed my past actions to the police. After meeting with the police, I remained out on bail for about six months while they decided my case. I was privileged to carry the message of recovery during this time. In September 2006, a plea agreement was accepted and I was (and still am) incarcerated.

Meetings here in prison lack certain things that I took for granted in my home group on the outside. We don’t always have access to newcomers. The same room with the same people, day in and day out, offers my mind more opportunity to wander. Sometimes, when my ego is acting up, I forget the miracle that is taking place right before my eyes: men who were once society’s castaways, now recovering, useful, and alive. One day in a meeting, I suddenly realized that at that moment, all up and down the East Coast, perhaps all over the world, SA meetings were being held. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of us in fellowship together. When I consider the magnitude of our fellowship, I am filled with new hope.

Some members have yet to experience these freedoms. Some, like me, have participated in other fellowships for years, maybe decades, but have failed to discover true peace. We need to look into ourselves, past the shame, regret, and fear. Just for a moment, I can refuse to believe that my life is nothing more than pain. I need to look straight through the story of my past. Beyond all of that is the God of my understanding—my fortress. That is where I find all the power I’ll ever need to change, to be liberated from pornography, sex, lust, and whatever else ails me. I can set right my wrongs.

There is a better way. We can all heal and be part of the healing of others. This is the place where God lives, the only place that can’t be subdued by evil. When life is bearing down, and emotions or cravings are overwhelming, this is the place inside where I go to seek sanctuary with the God of my understanding.

Today I make new moments. It’s up to me to see that they are in accord with harmony. This can be done when I’m in tune with God. That comes by following a few simple directions: check myself, consult others who know me intimately, seek guidance from God, listen, discern, and obey. But I cannot expect God to do the things that I alone am responsible for. My thoughts are just that: thoughts that I must own. I can no longer pretend that corruption does not exist inside when in fact it does exist.

There is no justifying or denying the consequences that befall others through my actions when I become spiritually lazy. Allowing wrong attitudes to remain and grow will ensure that I eventually lose vital contact with God. The question remains: will I submit to the truth and use the tools God has so freely provided?

Peace be to your hearts!

In love and service,