Recently my sponsor in another 12-Step program pointed out a sentence in the Big Book that I hadn’t paid special attention to before. It comes in Chapter 11, A Vision For You. The reading has to do, in part, with events surrounding a business trip by Bill W., the co-founder of AA, when he was just six months sober.
I attended family counseling for six years; my wife was crazy and she wasn’t getting any better. Did it have anything to do with the fact that I was having several simultaneous affairs? I was a respected professional in a small town. Some of the women were my clients. This was in violation of the ethics of my profession and whatever ethics I might have thought I had for my marriage.
The following suggested policy on how to deal with abuse disclosed at meetings first appeared in the ESSAY in October 1990. It is reprinted here at the request of the Delegates and Trustees, who discussed this and related issues at the General Delegate Assembly meeting in St. Louis, on July 7.
Thank you God for SA with a very tough bottom line; recovery came to me because of this program. Thank you for teaching me that every person has dignity. No matter what their station in life, economic status, addictions, and illness, no matter what they’ve done—every person has dignity.
Sometimes, in meetings, I would share about the “amazing insights” I had, but these are all things I now see in my rear-view mirror. My motives and drivers were revealed to me after I did the work of the Steps. My insights did not lead to recovery. They are knowledge I had been given as the result of working the Steps.
As a child, I was lonely. I may have felt love-deprived or full of harbored resentment, but I needed some sort of outlet. Then I discovered a strange pet: Lust. This little creature seemed harmless as I studied it with my wide, innocent eyes. The most convenient thing about my pet was that I could keep it a secret from the rest of the world.
Before joining the Program, I didn’t realize how mean I was to my wife. It’s not that she’s perfect; after all, she married me. But something would happen, I’d get angry because something wasn’t going right, and I’d yell at her. I’d often blame her for things she had nothing to do with. Or I’d just yell at her because I was upset.
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.
