IN THE CURRENT MAGAZINE

My first sexual experience was with my uncle when I was nine years old. This grew into a full-blown homosexual relationship that lasted until I was eighteen. When it began, I was starved for acceptance and love, and I needed to feel wanted. When he chose me, I felt special.

For many of us who are new to SA, one of the most important tools in our recovery toolbox may be compassion—for others certainly, but compassion for ourselves most of all.

If you are a newcomer to SA, you may have the same opinion of the saying “Keep coming back, it works if you work it” that I did when I first started attending meetings. Whenever people got all excited talking about the power of those two simple principles—go to meetings, work the Steps—I often felt they were misguided or brainwashed, or maybe even a little crazy.

Yesterday I got a call from one of our members who has struggled with staying sexually sober. He had a business trip scheduled that would take him a couple of hundred miles from home and through some towns where he typically would stop at slippery places. He would set himself up to act out when he arrived at his destination.

In the past, a big part of the reason why I felt that I had little value as a person was because I did not own valuable things. I didn’t own a fancy car, live in a dream house, or flaunt a stylish wardrobe; I didn’t have an impressive career in which I could rub elbows with the rich and popular.

Serenity did not come my way very often in recovery. I rationalized that my Higher Power must be withholding it from me because there were special plans in the works for me.

My addiction has forced me to examine myself. As a result, I have uncovered a part of me that has long been buried: anger. Now that it has been brought to the surface, I’m seeing the reasons for my anger. SA is giving me healthy alternatives to resentment and bitterness.

My name is Bill and I’m a grateful and recovering sexaholic, actively involved in SA for almost ten years. I’ve been blessed with the grace to maintain sobriety, and by all appearances seemed to be working a solid program. However, somewhere along the path in the last few years, complacency set in.

“Progressive victory over lust” is often the hurdle that humbles me in my own program. My lust can, in a heartbeat, zero in on just about anything: sexualizing people, overeating, disappearing into TV, lying, pretending to be someone other than who I am, the list goes on and on. The solution has always been the same: reaching out and giving, of my time, my experience, my caring, my love; giving some of the “real” me to someone else.

My first year in recovery was about avoiding triggers. That was disastrous because what I was really practicing was avoidance. If only I don’t see x, or y, or z, I won’t be tempted. It didn’t work. It only made me more sensitive to triggers.