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.
1. Does the meeting start and end on time?
I can now see how my sexaholism isolated me from family, friends, workers, and employers in the past. I found fault with them in my “terminal uniqueness.” Nobody had a story like mine; therefore, I could not relate to anyone else. In the end, all I had was my sexaholism.
The other night I had a dream which stripped my lust of its pastel pink and purple euphemisms. I have avoided the word lust in my litany—preferring to tell myself that I crave “an affair of the heart”—further dressed up by such phrases as “out of my deep loneliness and chronic disconnection from others, I have sought soul mates, persons to join me in (at worst) the warmth of romantic fervor.”
Before recovery I would go to any lengths to get my way. I would lie, cheat, steal and manipulate to get what I thought I needed. I was even willing to work hard to get my desired outcome. But once I got what I wanted, I soon began to want something else.
What if you never had to act out sexually again?
I acted out. I practiced hard at it. I started at a young age. I lived my life in fear and fantasy. I did not know how to live in the real world. I wanted to be any place but “here.” Fantasy would take me over “there.” I acted out to feel better; I liked it, and I pursued it to the gates of insanity and death.
