Surrender
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?
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.
During the summer of 2005, I took a week’s vacation with my wife. While there, I experienced some difficulty in dealing with the mass of bodies, often partially dressed or dressed in a way which I found provocative. Coming home to a normal way of life was a relief, a liberation.
“Sobriety is God’s gift to me, and I have to do something with it.” I spoke those words in a dream. Upon waking, my entire mind was focused on that one statement. With that one thought, my entire view of recovery has changed. Now I see that each day God offers me a gift of sobriety. He wants me to be sober. All I have to do is choose to accept it.
As a teenager, I was pushed into treatment. I learned about Twelve Step programs there and worked my way through Step Five, but it was only the barest of beginnings and I really didn’t understand how the Steps worked. I loved the program, the history, the meetings, the instant friends everywhere, and the fellowship. I took on many service jobs. My understanding of recovery was to go to lots of meetings, participate in the fellowship, and have fun.