I identified with this expression the first time I heard it. How often had I worked myself into a lather of rage because people weren’t doing things MY way? How often had I sunk into despair because I was sure life was not working out well? The answer to each question was, “Every day!”
I just hit nine months of sobriety. I knew it was getting close, but I didn’t expect it quite this soon. This got me thinking: what good is counting anyway? I once had sixteen months, and it vanished overnight. I actually have only 24 hours—since yesterday. Tomorrow, it could be gone in a few minutes.
All my life, all I wanted was to fit in, to be accepted, and to feel okay about myself. I grew up in a family of multiple addictions, and I was a loner. From very early on I hated myself. I felt trapped, always wishing and waiting to grow up so I could do what I wanted to and have the freedom to get away from it all.
Many of you already know that I have been locked up in Texas for the last 23 years. I was well over 50 years old before I even knew what it was to be someone’s friend. If I was not trying to drag you off to bed, I did not have the time of day for you. Now that is really sad, but it was also very true!
If you are in a painful and seemingly endless cycle of relapse, unable to scrape together a few weeks or just a few days of sobriety AND you are willing to do whatever it takes, then read on.
I can’t see my self-centered fear. What others recognize as my obvious self-centeredness, to me is just the “real world,” or the “facts” of my life.
For over thirty years, I was convinced I knew how to put first things first. I had my personal priorities, which usually involved me getting attention or getting ahead in some way. I knew that pleasing other people increased the odds that I would get what I wanted.
This topic really challenged me. I have heard people say that one of the things I have to do in this program is change everything about myself. Well, I have changed many things. I have walked through changes with my heart pounding, knees shaking, and feeling physically sick.
I am a grateful recovering sexaholic and an orthodox Jew. I have been obsessed with sex and lust almost as long as I can remember. I can recall at age twelve, sitting in the bathroom in Israel, playing with myself. By age thirteen, I was masturbating compulsively.
My name is Brad and I’m an addict. A SAD addict. That’s not the state of my condition; it’s the state of my life. SAD stands for Sex, Alcohol and Drugs. These aren’t the only addictions I have.
