I have amends to make to some people. A few years ago, I abused four women, and I hurt two others for terribly selfish reasons. The four women were prostitutes. They were working in that abusive industry here in my own locality. Two were on the street, one was listed in the classified ads, and one worked in a “studio,” a sanitized name for a brothel.
In a recent issue of ESSAY, a series of thought-provoking questions were posed in an article entitled “What If?” Each question challenged us to ask what difference it might make if we believed the SA program of recovery could have a significant effect in our lives. As I read each statement, I tried to remember how I felt when I first came into SA more than ten years ago and wondered if this program could work for me.
I have found in my recovery that when I begin to think about my past in terms of what I do not like about myself, i.e., “I shouldn’t have looked at that woman like that,” or “Why can’t I be trustworthy?” or “I can’t believe the things I have done in the past,” or “I can’t believe how sick I am,” and on and on… I am setting myself up for contracting a bad case of shame and guilt.
We recovery folks have a lot of dirty words. Surrender is definitely one of them. Yet I glibly renew my intention to surrender to God each time I do my daily renewal. So what do I know, or need to come to know, about surrender?
You write to me that the group you started and tried to hold together is gone.
Before recovery, whenever I tried to stop acting out, my life went insane. I started doing stuff that was so strange that I thought I was literally losing my mind. I’ve since learned that what I was doing is not all that uncommon. I simply couldn’t cope with living without acting out.
Six years ago my life was a sewage pit of porn, masturbation, promiscuity, homosexuality, bestiality, incest, and dozens of other things I thought I absolutely needed to get through the day. I would get sick of what I was doing. My wife and my boss threatened me. I would swear that I’d never do it again. And yet, despite my best intentions, my best efforts, within days (or at most weeks), I was back doing the same things again and again.
Here is a practical tool which helps me turn my eyes, my thoughts, my mouth, and my ears in the right direction in the morning, pointing towards my recovery rather than my relapse.
Hi, I am Judy, a sexaholic. I live in a small town in North Idaho. When I was six months sober, God and I started a meeting. It was small, but it lasted for three and a half years, and was instrumental in my sobriety. Then the meeting folded, and I was without a face-to-face meeting.
I work in an office building, and there are many members of the opposite sex that I find attractive. That is God’s handiwork. It is not their fault that I am sexaholic, neither is it mine. But it is my responsibility to practice recovery.
