When I was a boy growing upon the farm, I was a very private, shy person, and it was very hard for me to ask anyone about sex. So when my neighbor introduced me to sexual activity, I was ashamed to talk to anyone except the priest in the confessional. In those days the dark confessional box fed right into my deep, dark secrets. I knew there was something wrong about it and I tried to stop many times. However, I was hooked on the relationship, the pleasure, and the experimentation. Even in my earliest teenage years my sexual activity was leading me into progressive pursuit of something more, something different.

Without knowing it at the time, I was looking for the Big Fix. It was always, “Just once more before next Saturday’s confession.” Then my thinking was, “You’ve done it once, so why not do it again before you go to confession?” So I got in as much acting out as I could before I went. Then after each confession, I would promise God that it would be the last time.

I felt that I was the most sexual person alive! I had sex on my mind all the time. Sexual arousal came at the most embarrassing times. It was never a question of whether to masturbate. Once the arousal started, I always ended up masturbating.

I struggled with masturbation throughout my teens and early twenties. I had no sex with others for many years, until late in my twenties. Then an older man invited me to a motel to “talk.” I was an easy target, because I was always the passive partner and had no willpower to say no to sex. I was seduced into a world of homosexuality I had never known. This unleashed a whole new realm of lust. I became the pursuer. I pursued other men. I started cruising. I frequented bars looking for sex. It was never enough. I was devastated. What I thought I had conquered had merely been lying dormant. My addiction had truly progressed, even while I was not having sex.

When I couldn’t find men, I pursued boys. I drank alcohol to numb feelings of guilt, inadequacy, shame, and emptiness. I would befriend a young person, telling myself I didn’t intend to act out with him, but within a very short time I would be in bed with him. Afterward I would say, “This was the first time this ever happened and it will never happen again.” The Big Lie. I would then drop that partner and pursue the next one.

At the time, I was totally unaware of what I was doing to my victims. I was focused on my lust, unaware that I was trying to fill the emptiness within my soul; unaware of my lack of intimacy and communion with others. My addictive behavior never met my real need, that of making the real connection with God and other human beings. I felt alone. I could never reach out to anyone else—my life had become too shameful. I was living a Jekyll-and-Hyde existence. My addiction was controlling my life, and I saw no way out.

At the age of forty-six, I finally sought help and was sent to a treatment center for sex addiction. I was so grateful for my introduction to Sexaholics Anonymous there. I began to work the Steps and this program of recovery.

For the first time in my adult life, I felt that there was hope. It felt so good to be free of the power of the addiction. I was fortunate to be released from my obsession with sex from the beginning. I had an occasional fleeting thought or memory, but only infrequent sexual feelings or arousals. I traveled sixty miles to attend a weekly SA meeting because I knew my life depended upon it. My whole week revolved around that meeting. I became active in SA and tried to put all the principles of SA into practice in my life. I was very disciplined and avoided any situations that would trigger me. I avoided getting into any male relationships, even appropriate ones, because I was afraid of what I might do. I wanted sobriety so badly!

For the first time in my life I began to feel alive. I began to experience feelings that I had never felt before. It was not always easy, but it was a hundred times better than when I was acting out. Each year of recovery, new discoveries unfolded. I was able to think more clearly. I was able to go for longer periods of time without being physically sick. I became calmer about life’s situations and didn’t let people or life get me so upset. The more sobriety I attained, the more serenity came.

I attended the SA international conference in Baltimore some years ago. I felt very humbled to go up and get my eight-year sexual sobriety chip. Then, within a week, I relapsed by masturbating. This compulsion is very baffling and cunning, as well as powerful. I always imagine this disease as a large black panther waiting to pounce on me. It seems to know my weaknesses and strengths, and will attack me when I least expect it. I was alone and away from home, inside my secret self. My addiction tempted me with thoughts like, “Just this little bit of pursuing pleasure won’t lead to masturbation. Go ahead and cross your boundaries. It won’t happen!” THE BIG LIE!!! By taking the first little step toward lust, I was lost. Since my slip, I try not to over-analyze what happened, because one of my character defects is to beat up on myself.

There were other signs along the way that led to this reality check. I had begun to take my sobriety for granted. I had begun to relax my reliance on the power of my God by relying more on myself. I had begun to think that I had this addiction licked and—the ultimate temptation—that I was no longer a sex addict. All because I had slowed down on my Step work and had begun to cross the boundary from a trusted servant to one who thought he was better than, and knew more than, others in the group.

So when I stood before an SA international conference six months later with five months of sobriety and admitted that I had relapsed, I was filled with gratitude to have another chance to get sober. I know many who have gone back out and not returned. I am never to take recovery for granted. I need to be wary of counting months or years of sobriety as something to be proud of, but rather to be grateful that I am sober today. By the grace of God, months and years of sobriety and recovery can and will add up, One Day at a Time.