Today I’m tired. My body aches from a long week, and I feel physically and emotionally exhausted. In many ways, I am experiencing the “HALT” (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired) symptoms described in the White Book (34). Although I’ve been fasting as part of my religious practice, I’m not just hungry for food. The hunger strikes much deeper and is far more powerful. It is a spiritual hunger that drives me to suck in the world around me: every person, every color, every texture, every smell.

My predatory senses are desperate to devour everything, like an alien force that feeds off the very essence of this planet. This is the hunger known as lust. For me, lust is not simply sexual, although it certainly has a huge sexual component. Thanks to the beautiful gift of sobriety, I now can tell when the lust is active. When I sense that powerful urge to notice every minuscule detail around me, I know that I’m experiencing a “spiritual emptiness and hunger” (SA 62); a God hunger that manifests itself in me as a thirst for sex.

Once the lust starts, eventually a voice from the diseased part of my brain will say, “You’re hungry and cold. You need a nice blanket. Let’s go find some comforting warm bodies to soothe your pain.”

Thus my spiritual hunger turns to sexual obsession. Suddenly, I find myself painfully craving the images and actions of my disease. No longer happy, joyous, or free, I cry out with outstretched arms for someone—any person or fantasy—to save me. “Hold me tight and love me, for I am unlovable. I need you to be my warm blanket and comfort my fears.” I am crippled by the delusion that my problems will vanish in that embrace.

Alas, lust is a warm blanket that burns! It is a mirage. After the moment passes, I will find myself once more filthy and vile. This is not a blanket; it is a sheet of fire that scalds me. False advertising: lust promises me comfort and freedom, but it will leave me with shame and red-hot shackles. How can I heal from this increased pain? I will need something to relieve me of this bondage and to comfort the throbbing pain of reality, so once again I will turn to the soft, warm shelter of my lust blanket. I recognize this path, which I have travelled so many times before. If I choose this route, I will spiral violently downward to my hell, having once again fallen prey to the unrelenting idea that lust is the only source of warmth and comfort.

But wait! Those who have gone before me on the path of recovery have told me that there is hope in the Source of the Universe. Once again I cry out in pain, “There is One who can restore me to sanity. May I find Him now.” I wonder if my doubts in the existence of a God will prevent the prayer from working. Nevertheless, I continue the call for help: “God, I surrender my need for pleasure. May I find in You the comfort, relief, solace, acceptance, assurance, happiness, freedom, and joy that I seek. Please put me to work doing Your Will. Use me to Your ends. I release my lust to You. I choose You as my blanket!”

Then I ask God to help me take the actions of surrender by changing my environment: moving to a different seat, walking away, turning off the phone or computer, sending a text, or making a phone call. I don’t subject myself to lust if I can avoid it, and God can remove me from it. I surrender my need to lust through my choices and actions.

“[Having] just made conscious contact with God” (AA 87), I start to feel safe for the first time. Better yet, the “God blanket” didn’t burn me. I took a chance and placed my trust in a God in Whom I have unstable faith, and He did for me what lust has never done for me. Is this what “happy, joyous, and free” (AA 133) feels like? I’d like to order another round! Sign me up!

So, Bill W., I’m starting to believe that your experience, strength, and hope may work for me also. But you have told me that I only have a “daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition” (AA 85). My limited experience in this program tells me that my disease comes with an element of amnesia. When I disconnect from the fellowship, I forget that I have a brain disorder with a spiritual solution. I forget that the lust blanket is actually made of fire-hot chainmail.

I forget that I’m allergic to lust. I start to believe that I can indulge lust in small doses. A person who is allergic to peanuts can die if he thinks he can suck on small peanuts without swallowing them. I too can die once my allergic rash—the lust obsession—has been ignited within me. Small lust looks and lust drinks are enough to start the chain reaction. Most important, I forget how my God has held me in His loving arms and kept me warm and safe. Again, I start to believe that He will choke me, beat me, or abandon me if I become vulnerable to Him.

Fortunately, I have my fellows in the program. They share their stories with me, and I see how the God in their lives is helping them. I may not be able to see God, but the evidence of His Love is readily apparent when I am “willing” to see it. I may be tired and hungry today, but I am not alone! I surrender myself to my God and let Him hold me tight as I settle in for some peaceful sleep in His warm embrace. Happiness, joy, and freedom manifest themselves as a genuine smile on my face.