The excellent SA International Convention in El Escorial outside Madrid was a great success with over 300 SAs and regional S-Anons in attendance. The facility and the global audio streaming (with up to 50 SA listeners for each session) and the major talks were inspiring. Translations were provided by hard-working volunteers.
When I walked through these doors, all I knew was that I had screwed up, got caught, and wanted to get out of my predicament. My wife was ready to end 38 years of marriage and be rid of me—and my mood swings, impatience and insatiable demands for sex. I got a sponsor and began the Steps.
My wife and I were asked to give a SA/S-Anon workshop in Toronto. We planned a vacation around this trip, including driving to St. Louis from Nashville and then continue the drive to Toronto via Niagara Falls. This was a bit optimistic for a 79 year old man, but sanity has not been one of my stronger qualities!
My first meeting in SA was in Jacksonville, FL Monday night at 7 p.m. I was more of an outsider looking in at that time. I would come in, say a few words maybe, and mostly keep to myself. I saw people successfully working a program and doing what was suggested to them by their sponsors and in the literature.
The ancient Japanese art of Kintsugi incorporates mixing of gold or silver dust with lacquer to join broken pieces of pottery or ceramics together. Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the respair is literally illuminated and the repaired object becomes more valuable than the original.
Motivation is fleeting, Despair is seeping, Slowly I’m sinking into myself.
For many years in my adult life, even after coming to SA, I did not enjoy the year end holiday season. Even after celebrating Christmas seasons with my son and my ex-wife, I have struggled with a sour and grumpy attitude about the whole experience. During the last five to ten years of my “sober” marriage with my current wife, my dark holiday cloud at times brought her to tears.
In my last home there was a sump pump in my crawl space to remove excess storm water. It was a real piece of work — the wrong type of pipe was used to install it, the backflow prevention device didn’t work, several supports were missing causing the pipe to sag in places, and somebody had wrapped a broken 90 degree fitting with electric tape to try and stop a leak.
My disease destroyed the relationship between my father and me. He was a dominant alcoholic, disapproving of everything I did. Phone calls with my father ended with me throwing my phone to pieces against the wall. I believed this was a reasonable reaction for someone with a father like I had. I always acted out after calling him. My resentment against my father was fuel for my sexaholism.
In my experience, I see sobriety as a calm lake that reflects a blue sky, without clouds, without anxiety. I remember that when I had a relapse it was as if someone (myself) had thrown an immense rock and the waters on the surface of the lake were shaking, leaving my mind, my sensations, confused and altered, with anxiety to consume more and more.
