Before recovery, whenever I tried to stop acting out, my life went insane. I started doing stuff that was so strange that I thought I was literally losing my mind. I’ve since learned that what I was doing is not all that uncommon. I simply couldn’t cope with living without acting out.
Six years ago my life was a sewage pit of porn, masturbation, promiscuity, homosexuality, bestiality, incest, and dozens of other things I thought I absolutely needed to get through the day. I would get sick of what I was doing. My wife and my boss threatened me. I would swear that I’d never do it again. And yet, despite my best intentions, my best efforts, within days (or at most weeks), I was back doing the same things again and again.
How many sexaholics does it take to change a light bulb?
I work in a building with three elevators. Because it’s an older facility, sometimes one of the elevators isn’t working. Usually that’s not a big deal; it just means waiting a few minutes longer to get upstairs to my work area. The other day, however, I came to work to find that two elevators were down.
Here is a practical tool which helps me turn my eyes, my thoughts, my mouth, and my ears in the right direction in the morning, pointing towards my recovery rather than my relapse.
Yielding to lust warped my mind tainted my vision tore my heart bent my soul.
Hi, I am Judy, a sexaholic. I live in a small town in North Idaho. When I was six months sober, God and I started a meeting. It was small, but it lasted for three and a half years, and was instrumental in my sobriety. Then the meeting folded, and I was without a face-to-face meeting.
I work in an office building, and there are many members of the opposite sex that I find attractive. That is God’s handiwork. It is not their fault that I am sexaholic, neither is it mine. But it is my responsibility to practice recovery.
During the summer of 2005, I took a week’s vacation with my wife. While there, I experienced some difficulty in dealing with the mass of bodies, often partially dressed or dressed in a way which I found provocative. Coming home to a normal way of life was a relief, a liberation.
As I progress in the discovery of my true self, I often come upon the “Reality Check.” This is the time when I recognize the truth of who I really am on the inside. I may catch myself thinking, “I snapped at a moment’s notice! I flew off the handle.”
