Originally published in Essay, June 2013

“I’m a recovering sexaholic and I’m making a program call.” These words are a bit harder to say from the inside of a jail cell. Nevertheless, even while in here I can get current, I can reach out, and I can get out of isolation—just by writing this letter. Even though I’m stuck in a cell 21 to 23 hours each day, I still have the tools to grow in recovery and have a positive sobriety—by doing all I can for the sexaholic who still suffers.

I can connect with my Higher Power. I can practice daily Bible reading, prayer, and reading of recovery material. I can attend any type of meeting (various Twelve Step meetings, religious meetings, and other meetings) whenever possible. And I can speak the language of recovery to my “cellie,” who is a struggling alcoholic.

Because of the nature of my charges and those of the others here in protective custody, we have very little fellowship and very little openness. This is in stark contrast to the openness and camaraderie of SA meetings (which I experienced for a year and a half before going to prison). Nevertheless, I choose to thrive here, and I choose to continue to grow along spiritual lines.

Moment by moment, one day at a time, I can surrender every temptation to “numb out” or “act out” with memories or fantasies. Surrender is still the key—whether in here or out there. Instead of “white knuckling” or giving in, I choose to surrender. I want to stop lusting and stay sexually sober. Thus, any television shows, magazines, or memories that might be triggering for me are immediately surrendered.

Daily journaling is a useful tool. Maintaining a positive attitude, avoiding all resentments (and surrendering them immediately if and when they occur), and fostering a spirit of gratitude are also key tools.

Honestly, some days are harder than others, and some days are easier. On hard days or nights, I try to use the tools of the program. I pray daily for sobriety. I must admit that sometimes I feel that my time here is wasted; that there seems to be no point to it all—but then I surrender that “feeling of uselessness.” I try to focus on the Promises.

No one ever said this would be an easy path. But as I trudge this road of happy destiny, I can only hope that my experience can benefit others. And so I write, praying that this letter can help someone, somewhere, stay sober for just one more day.

Today, as I celebrate day 595 of my sobriety, I thank you, the reader, for letting me be of service. Every person who reads or hears these words helps me stay sober. So I thank you. Thank you for bringing me out of isolation and helping me be part of the fellowship of SA.

I love you, appreciate you, and value you.