IN THE CURRENT MAGAZINE

I first came to SA on November 27, 1992, and I’ve been sober ever since. When someone asks me what I’ve done to stay sober, my answer is always the same: “I don’t know. I did not do it; I have a Higher Power who shows me that He can do it.” I thank God every day for my sobriety—but I’m in a very hard place today.

As a loner in the southwest of the UK, I had been accustomed to keeping in close touch with other members of the fellowship in the British Isles by phone. However, in the Summer of 2011, I became even more of a loner. I moved to China to work for some months.

Yes, my mother once stabbed me. I was probably 15 years old when it happened. I am now 72. I could never use the word “stab” until I had been sexually sober for many years in SA.

The man I used to be died on May 7, 2009. As I was speeding down the passing lane of a St. Louis Interstate, my eyes were filled with tears and my hands were clenched in fists of rage as my choked up voice screamed in agony and disbelief. I was only seconds away from yanking the steering wheel hard to the left to send my car into the cement wall median in an effort to end my life.

If a vote were taken, I think that the most beloved character in the Big Book might be the Jaywalker. That hunch is based on the grins, laughter, and head-nodding I see in my meetings whenever that character is mentioned.

Even though I have almost nine years of sobriety and a lot of service work behind me, I know that I can still be deceived by lust. For me, the crux of the program is still, fundamentally, surrendering lust in all areas. As my former sponsor used to say, “You’re a smart guy, and despite this you can stay sober.”

Well, it happened again. I sat waiting in the parking lot because the person who has the key did not show up. Perhaps someone has decided that, since this was a holiday, everyone would be busy with family and would not get to a meeting. I did not get that message.

Today, January 14, 2012, I am five years sober. It seems impossible! Before, I had a 35-year addiction, in which I was always looking for something new, exciting, and different—getting bored with what I had and always searching for something better. I went through two marriages and two divorces and ruined every relationship I ever had.

When I first arrived at the Newark Convention in January, I was uncomfortable. I’m used to being the planner of events, the director of the play, but here I was just another attendee. I was out of my element. In my addiction, I was boisterous, always surrounded by people (not necessarily friends).

Two years ago, I was wondering what I could do to bring my recovery to a new level. I wanted to get past the phase of just not acting out. I wanted to get closer to my Higher Power. I wanted to do service, but I didn’t know where to begin.