When I first came to SA, my world had just exploded. My last acting out partner had called my wife and told her what I’d been doing. My wife learned about a long list of behaviors that I was none too proud of. My loving, even-tempered wife responded to that call by picking up the pot roast she had just prepared for dinner and throwing it at me.

Unfortunately, the behaviors she learned about that day were merely the symptoms of the true nature of my life. My life had become a continuous, self-centered, lust-soaked storm that was destroying me and everyone around me. But I was totally blind to the destruction. Up to that point I was convinced that my secret life wasn’t hurting anyone. I told myself that my multiple affairs were actually good for me and for my marriage. Today I realize how sick I was. Now, years later, I fondly refer to the night that I hit my bottom as “the night the pot roast flew.”

In my addiction, I had been trading my soul for endless pain wrapped in moments of temporary pleasure. It wasn’t until I was caught and finally decided to stop that I learned the truth: I could not stop. I was powerless over lust. Lust controlled every aspect of my life—from my thinking, to the route I drove to work, to the TV shows I watched. Everything I did was impacted and shaped by my lust.

I had driven myself insane by a lifetime of lust poisoning. My head was on a swivel. I fixated on lust objects even at incredible distances. I was like a truck driver with a heavy load, heading into the downhill portion of a mountain pass. The truck was picking up speed, but I was convinced that I was in control and could safely manage the curves or stop at any time. The true nature of my situation only became clear when I saw that I could not stop. As I’ve read in Step One, “It is truly awful to admit that, glass in hand, we have warped our minds into such an obsession for destructive drinking that only an act of Providence can remove it from us” (12&12 21).

I had witnessed in the past that Twelve Step programs (including SA) were helpful to several people that I knew, but I was blind to my own need for these programs. Now that I could clearly see my powerlessness, I decided to give SA a try.

When I came to my first SA meeting in April 2007, I expected to find a room full of sad, seedy-looking people dressed in trench coats. Instead, I was welcomed by a group of pleasant-looking, friendly people, who were laughing and seemed glad to be there. I wanted to scream, “How can you laugh? Don’t you realize I’m in trouble?”

When the meeting started, people went around the room introducing themselves and sharing what had brought them to the group. They shared openly about many of the same things that I had been doing in my secret life. I was shocked that anyone would talk openly about those things, and I realized for the first time that maybe I wasn’t the only lust-driven person on the planet. At the end of the meeting several people stayed to talk with me and even asked for my phone number.

That night I went back to my hotel room (my wife had kicked me out of the house) and read the White Book from the first page to the last. I identified with all of it. With every page, the reality of my situation became more apparent. My problem was not that I had gotten caught; my real problem was me. If I wanted the pain to stop, I was going to have to change me.

Over the next few weeks I received phone calls almost daily from other men in the fellowship. At first I was surprised that anyone would call just to check on me and see how I was doing. Now I’m grateful to those who reached out to me then. Their selflessness in carrying the message of hope to the suffering sexaholic was invaluable.

I would love to say that from the very start my motives were absolutely pure. The truth is that at first I was motivated mostly out of fear—the fear of losing everything. But over time my fear-driven motives developed into a realization that I was very sick. For me, the process of recovery meant a commitment to take the actions that were required of me. Following are some of the things I’ve done to stay sober:

1) Get an SA sponsor. When I first came to SA, I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do. But my best efforts in running my life had resulted in the train wreck I was living. To find recovery, I had to humble myself, ask for help, and become willing to follow the suggestions of others. I could not have found or maintained any level of sobriety or recovery without the help of my sponsor.

2) Work the Steps. My sponsor was quick to point out that the only solution SA offers is found in working the Twelve Steps. Going to meetings was great, but the real change happened when I was willing to do the hard work of actually working all the Steps with my sponsor.

3) Go to meetings. At first, my local fellowship had only one weekly meeting. I was encouraged to attend that meeting every week and supplement it with open AA meetings, as well as any SA marathon in my area. I was told that I needed to stay grounded in the solution, and that I needed to go to meetings to hear the solution. Today our local fellowship has at least one SA meeting every day, and I’m happy to have the opportunity to attend several SA meetings a week.

4) Stay connected. At first, my sponsor instructed me to call him daily, and I still speak to him most days. He also suggested that I talk to at least one other “real-live” sexaholic every day. This meant that, if I called someone from the phone list and got a voicemail, I had to keep calling until I found a live person who answered my call. When I questioned his suggestion, I was told that if I was unwilling to reach out to others when things are going well, I would probably not reach out when I’m struggling.

This suggestion has served me well over the years. In early sobriety I travelled out of town on a business trip, and my route took me past a location where I had acted out before. As I drove down the highway, the old temptation hit me. My car wanted to turn into that parking lot! But when I felt the tug, I grabbed my phone and started calling. I got voicemail after voicemail until the very last person on the list answered my call. He was gracious enough to stay on the phone with me until I successfully drove past the dangerous spot.

5) Learn to be honest. In my addiction, I had lost the ability to be honest with anyone, including myself. I would lie about things that didn’t even matter. In recovery I had to learn to live a lifestyle of rigorous honesty. The process of getting honest with myself and others wasn’t easy. It took constant vigilance and more than a few face-to-face amends before I started to regain the ability to be honest.

6) Find a way to serve others. When I came to SA I was completely self-absorbed. I didn’t care about others and was usually unaware of their existence (other than as a lust object or someone I resented). My sponsor challenged me to start seeking opportunities to serve others. Initially, this meant getting to the meeting early enough to turn on the air conditioner and set up chairs. I also started calling newcomers and offering them the same encouragement I received when I was new.

Eventually, I began answering calls from the local SA hotline and began sponsoring others. Over the years, I’ve found that serving others is one of the best ways to stay out of my own head—plus those I serve help me to stay sober for one more day. And if I want to turbocharge the effect of service work, I need to seek opportunities to serve where I can remain anonymous—even to others in the fellowship.

Recovery at times is slow and painful. However, as I continue to live out each day of recovery one day at a time, I’m incredibly thankful for the many blessings that recovery has brought to me. Following are just some of the many things I’m thankful for, because of SA:

• I can live free from the obsession to lust (even though I’m not cured). In my addiction, lust controlled me. Today, if I stay spiritually connected, I have a choice. The way I handle a temptation is my choice.

• I can live free from guilt, remorse, emptiness, and pain. I can hold my head up high, rather than cowering in shame.

• I’m able to be honest with myself and others.

• I can face my faults and shortcomings honestly and openly.

• I have the choice to be happy, joyous, and free—living in serenity and at peace with the world around me. I’ve found it to be true that I “have ceased fighting anything or anyone—even [lust]” (AA 84).

• I have friends who accept me as I am, but who also love me enough to challenge me when I need it.

• I can see the world beyond myself. I’m able to care for the needs of others.

• I have a spiritual connection. Before, I knew a lot about religion but I had no concept of a Higher Power who loved me. Today my faith is more real and sustaining than I could have ever imagined. On the night the pot roast flew, I was spiritually bankrupt—devoid of compassion, self-respect, and love. The program has given me back a sober soul. As the Big Book says, “We are not cured of [sexaholism]. What we have is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual connection” (AA 85).

• I’ve had the opportunity to learn patience. In my addiction, I wanted what I wanted, and I wanted it immediately. In recovery I’ve learned to accept things as they are, not as I want them to be.

• I’ve been blessed with a wonderful relationship with my wife. Our marriage has been restored— and there have been no more pot roasts flying!

In recovery, I’m encouraged by those who have gone before me. In their stories, I hear that wonderful vistas lie ahead, and I know that if I stay on the road I will eventually find them. Today as I think back on what my life was like before that pot roast flew—and what it is like today in recovery—I am able to honestly say that I’m thankful to be a sexaholic.