As a sexaholic, I am a refugee from the land of “Trying-and-failing-miserably-at-running-my-own-life.”

I have a new address called the “Fortress-of-Higher-Power.” Inside that Fortress, I have the resources that I need to stay sober … IF I choose to ASK for help and RECEIVE the help I need to stay sober and recovered.

All the entanglements that had me trapped get released here. Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. All my nicks, scrapes, cuts, and bruises from the past get healed here.

As a refugee, I relocated, there’s no need to go back to my old address for anything. And because this is a fortress, I’m not expected to be the guard. I’m just expected to stay inside the walls of the Fortress to be safe.

I have no personal defense against the disease, but the Fortress is my defense. The longer I stay inside the Fortress, the more I might be tempted to think that I’ve somehow become strong. I might be tempted to think I can go outside the perimeters for a stroll. Negative. Nothing good is out there.

All I need as proof is the number of fresh refugees coming inside the door of the Fortress. I can see their scrapes and bruises. The festering, open wounds. There’s no difference at all about my ability to resist. The only thing that works for me is staying inside the Fortress.