I was two weeks sober in SA, lying in bed in the middle of the day in a hotel room 1,000 miles from home, watching television. It will come as no surprise to anyone in our fellowship that I was consumed by lust and trying to talk myself out of acting out. “Look, Michael,” I said to myself, “nobody in SA expects you to stay sober right away. If you masturbate, you can always go back to the meetings and tell everybody about it, and nobody is going to be disappointed in you. And besides, you can always put together a couple of weeks again!”

As I lay there, talking to my addict, I thought about my prior 14 days of sobriety. It had been two weeks of grinding pain — withdrawal — but it had also been two weeks of freedom from masturbation and a feeling of integrity and restored self-worth.

I couldn’t hold out any longer. I was powerless and I was going to give in to lust. I told myself that I would be able to show my face back in SA if I was able to say I had at least tried to call my sponsor. So, heart pounding in anticipation of acting out, I picked up the phone and dialed my sponsor. “Please don’t be in,” I pleaded. I called from 1,000 miles away, but dang, he answered.

I don’t remember all of what he said, but I do remember him telling me to get dressed and get to an S-meeting or AA, as there was no SA available where I was. I did as I was told, and last week I was able to celebrate my two-year anniversary.

As I recount this story, a couple of things become clear:

It is very likely I would not be sober today if I acted out 720 days ago. At the time, my two weeks of sobriety seemed pretty insignificant. “I can always put together two weeks. Two weeks is no big deal.” Now two weeks is a very big deal — it’s miraculous. A day of sobriety is precious. In retrospect, marking two weeks was a more dramatic achievement than celebrating two years! I thank God that I can — one day at a time — surrender my powerlessness over lust to my fellow SA’s and to my God.