For over 30 years I had pretty much controlled and enjoyed my acting out, or at least (in my pre-recovery, delusional thinking) thought I had. Nine quick and horrific months after gaining access to the Internet, I was in a sex-addiction therapy group and had become an active member of Sexaholics Anonymous.
As I sit here on the New York City subway, I have seven years in the program and one day of sexual sobriety. Triggers of every kind surround me and it seems impossible for me not to lust. Add this all up, and it equals just one thought in my mind — FAILURE!!! And that is exactly what my disease (my addict, the devil, whatever I call it) wants me to believe.
Sobriety came in the summer of 1985 like an unexpected gift. Just about three weeks earlier I had learned that there were people who called themselves sex addicts and held meetings and worked the Twelve Steps. I had begun making a weekly 200-mile round trip to the closest meeting. I had read the SA manual twice, but — brain numbed by decades of sexual obsession — I didn’t understand most of the basic principles there.
I recently attended an SA meeting that is not in my regular circuit, due to its time and location. However, I had directed a newcomer there and thought that as I had the day off from work, I would make the effort to meet up with him.
In June 2000, an inmate from the Adrian Temporary Correctional Facility in Adrian, Michigan, USA wrote requesting help in starting an SA group for convicted sex offenders. The Troy, MI group offered to help. Regular mail contact began with two members of SA. Contact was also made with the program director at the Adrian facility. A four-page constitution was provided as well as the name of a local SA sponsor.
The Tucson SA Fellowship approved the enclosed statement for local use with newcomers. In fact, we have printed it on the back of our Step 1 Guide, which we give to newcomers along with the SA brochure. We thought you might like to report this development and/or print the entire statement in the ESSAY.
God grant me the sobriety to seek the truth from you; the faith to trust the answer; and the strength to follow through.
Hi all: I’ve been overwhelmed with “life” lately, so I haven’t responded to many topics. This one — surrender — caught my eye. Surrender is an impossibility. Asking me to “surrender” makes as much sense as asking me to stop breathing. Running rampant is a natural state for me.
When I was a little girl about five years old, I remember sitting on my grandfather’s lap and combing his hair. It gave me such happy, good feelings. My grandfather died when I was seven. I had trouble in school from that time on. I couldn’t concentrate, I would daydream, and I had headaches. I was a very lonely child after I lost that special relationship. I didn’t know how to get that love from anyone else, so I comforted myself in my fantasies where I was a fairy princess and my Prince Charming would come and carry me off.
My name is William R. My sobriety date is June 12, 1993. I live in the state of Washington, USA. Since January 1998, I have served Sexaholics Anonymous as the Correctional Facilities Coordinator.
