My wife and I were putting away our Christmas tree this past December. It’s an artificial tree with lights wired into it, and it looks pretty in our front window at night. But packing it up for storage is a struggle.

Starting at the top of the tree, we must fold each branch snug against the upper one-third of the trunk, tie a cord around the branches, detach those branches from the lower parts, and then put it all in a box. Then we repeat the same process with the middle third and lower third of the tree.

Do you know how many hands and arms this takes? More than four, I can tell you! Branches flop down in our faces, or a hinge might come out of its socket, causing the branch to swing loose on its wires and tangle with the tree below. We called out instructions to each other, grunted, and laughed.

What was I feeling during this struggle? I was feeling gratitude. Why? I was flashing back to my first marriage. My first wife and I could never work together. Joint projects collapsed into arguments and bad feelings. Looking back, I see that I wanted to be in control; I believed I was the one who knew how to do the job right. Now, struggling with that uncooperative tree, I didn’t have to be in charge. I was able to cooperate with my partner.

This is not only about recovery in my marriage; it’s about finding gratitude in everyday life. Before recovery, I expected the worst from life. If something good happened, I automatically discounted it. If I completed a worrisome task, I immediately went on to worry about the next task. It never occurred to me to pause and celebrate. I kept myself numb with lust and obsession. Every event and encounter was tinged with grey.

In recovery, I have a new pair of glasses. My lenses aren’t grey, and they aren’t pink. They’re clear, allowing me to see clearly the gifts that God gives me every day. Often, as with the Christmas tree episode, I’m struck by the difference between my life today compared with the old days before sobriety.

This past January my wife and I attended the SA International Convention in Nashville. On Saturday morning, I woke before my wife and thought, “Ah, this is a good time for my morning meditation!” I went into the bathroom in our hotel room, closed the door, set the timer on my watch, turned out the light, and relaxed peacefully in God’s presence. I was enjoying the privacy when my wife opened the door! As light flooded the room, my heart was filled with gratitude. She had interrupted my meditation, but I realized in that instant that—in my previous life—she might have interrupted me acting out. I was reminded of how much different my life is today.

When another sexaholic calls me, I’m reminded that I no longer have to be alone with my disease. When one of my adult children calls me just to chat, I’m grateful to have them all in my life today. I could have been a sour old man living alone in a small apartment and masturbating myself to sleep every night. But because of SA, today my life is full of love.

I’m grateful for a thousand common, everyday things. I’m grateful that I can drive a car; that I can walk in full stride, arms swinging, breathing deeply; that I’m a warm-blooded animal. I’m grateful for the microwave oven, for the automatic dishwasher, for the sunlight streaming into my kitchen, for my dinner on the table, and for the appetite to eat it.

With gratitude all around me every day, I find that resentment, self-pity, and fear are no longer running my life. Neither is lust. Why is that? I don’t know. I just know that’s what works for me.