In a recent meeting a member expressed his envy of so-called “normies,” men whose reactions to sexual stimuli seem to be less intense or more controlled than those that characterize sexaholics. I understood the sentiment and shared it, but also had other reactions to the notion of normality.
Since 1997 I have been a member of SA and a minister of a church. I have seen some members who have trouble with sobriety because they do not see the difference between religion and spirituality. Some want to rely on prayer to take away the addiction, and they don’t do the steps. Some go to “church” recovery groups which can be helpful, but rigorous honesty is very difficult in a group of mixed addictions.
In my home group, we encourage newcomers to read an Essay article entitled “I Don’t Have to Know” for 40 consecutive days. The author describes a compulsive need to know everything around him. He has Batman-like hyper-vigilance that is a habit of insobriety. Realizing that he is not Batman and not God, he relies on the simple mantra of, “I don’t have to know” to practice a healthy habit to not feed the impulsive desire to look.
In my SA experience, I have encountered many times when lust and arousal seem ready to overwhelm me. In recent conversations I’ve also heard these common sexaholic scenarios:
Often my willfulness asserts itself, and I have been learning the following ingredients of surrender.
In the White Book, it says that we identified with each other at the point of our weakness. I need to hear your struggles with lust in order to get in touch with my own lust. I need to hear your pain so I know I don’t want to go back out there. I need to hear your hope so I know there is a way out. I need you to be “specific but not graphic,” as one member puts it.
I fell hard into the Internet. There I found a world where forbidden things were freely available. At first, I enjoyed this secret place where there was no right or wrong. So I stayed there longer and longer each day. Before long, my seemingly harmless online meetings turned into infidelities. I cheated frequently, after more than fifteen years of faithful marriage.
From the time I was a kid I never liked teams. I didn’t want to lose because some teammate screwed up. If I messed up a bunch of people would hate me for making them lose. And if I’m the prime factor in helping a team win, the credit will be spread out among a bunch of others. By my logic it was better to solo have the credit and control of winning or losing.
In 1993, my wife and I led a church singles ministry. During a pool party at a single’s house while playing catch, my six-year-old son looked at me and said, “Daddy, why do you keep looking around? Why don’t you just play catch with me?” I believe that was the first time anyone spoke to me about my looking at the women around me.
My wife and I were babysitting two of our grandchildren for the weekend. On Saturday afternoon I was keeping my grandson company, lounging next to him on the couch with my legs up on a hassock as he watched his favorite television program.
