During high school I was getting more and more confused. I would hitchhike and pick up men for sex in exchange for money to buy drugs or impress my friends. My “friends” were druggies. I was surprised that good looking girls would hang around me. I was an egomaniac with an inferiority complex.
Fourteen years ago, on a Memorial Day weekend, I was finishing my third hour in a porno shop. I had spent the three-day weekend in almost total obsession. Finally someone entered my viewing booth for sexual contact.
As a shy and overweight teenager, I retreated into a secret world of masturbation. This covered feelings I couldn’t handle and made me feel good about myself. It was my first drug: medication through masturbation.
I write this to express my gratitude to my Higher Power and SA for the gift of sexual sobriety. It has been a goal all my life but I could not attain it on my own, no matter how I tried. God knows how hard I tried! I grew up in an alcoholic home with a lot of violence. My father was an alcoholic who never got into recovery. My mother was a devout Irish Catholic who taught us children to be loving, decent and above all, to be chaste. I could not live up to that and consequently, I was prey to a lot of shame and guilt as I grew up.
When I was a small boy of three or four years of age, I was the first to go to bed. I used to hide my head under the pillow and dream about women of beaming beauty. There wasn’t anything explicitly sexual, but I fused with them. I remember at that age walking with a two-year-old girl and immediately getting a weird feeling of being “connected” to nature and the whole universe — and being afraid of that small creature.
I never knew I was a sexaholic. In the six weeks between the time I heard of Sexaholics Anonymous and my first meeting, I did a lot of honest soul-searching. I was working the program in AA and considered myself safe from the dangers of other addictions. I wavered between ignorance of my sexaholism and denial of what I did know. Denial was my first reaction to everything.
It was in a porn magazine, ironically, that I first learned of SA. This new group for sex addicts was mentioned in a short article of the ha-ha-guess-what variety. I did not laugh; it sent a chill down my spine. Two months later a local newspaper carried the famous “Dear Abby” column, and I was one of the multitude who wrote to Simi Valley. I received the SA brochure and a letter inviting me to write again if I wanted further information.
My journey into sexual recovery started when, after a particularly sordid and degrading sexual experience, I discovered I had crab lice. When I realized this, there was a sinking feeling of terror in the pit of my stomach…. Waiting three months for the result of an HIV test, fearing the worst and wondering — knowing — what the reaction of my wife would be, was the most painful experience of my life.
I was 44 years old, married for 23 years, a father of four children and a successful professional person. Yet there I was, leaving a porno store, disgusted with myself once again. It was hopeless. Anonymous sex had become a daily occurrence. I knew I was going to lose my wife, my children and my profession. I was ready to lose it all rather than fight it one more moment.
My name is Patrick, and I’m a sexaholic. I’ve been sexually sober for 28 days, nine months and two years, by the grace of God. And I never thought I’d ever be able to be sexually sober in my life. I was totally powerless over sex, over lust. My life was incredibly out of control, and today I can smile; today I’m happy. I never thought that day would come. I waited a long time for it [Laughter], a long, long time, and I paid a price for this fellowship, which was the highest price that I could ever be expected to pay.
