Since childhood, I’ve had a recurring, upsetting dream where I found myself standing before my father in fear of punishment. Feeling guilty for engaging in inappropriate behavior with other kids my age, I would just freeze and stare at my dad, unable to look into his eyes, while trying not to show fear or to cry.
To Essay: I just wanted to write and express my thanks to you for putting Dick O.’s story Free As A Bird in the online Essay May 2018 and on www.sa.org. What an honor! I only wish Dick were alive to see it.
Dear Sir or Madam, Many thanks for putting ESSAY on the internet for us to have free download.
My first meeting in SA was in Jacksonville, FL Monday night at 7 p.m. I was more of an outsider looking in at that time. I would come in, say a few words maybe, and mostly keep to myself. I saw people successfully working a program and doing what was suggested to them by their sponsors and in the literature.
Motivation is fleeting, Despair is seeping, Slowly I’m sinking into myself.
For many years in my adult life, even after coming to SA, I did not enjoy the year end holiday season. Even after celebrating Christmas seasons with my son and my ex-wife, I have struggled with a sour and grumpy attitude about the whole experience. During the last five to ten years of my “sober” marriage with my current wife, my dark holiday cloud at times brought her to tears.
In my last home there was a sump pump in my crawl space to remove excess storm water. It was a real piece of work — the wrong type of pipe was used to install it, the backflow prevention device didn’t work, several supports were missing causing the pipe to sag in places, and somebody had wrapped a broken 90 degree fitting with electric tape to try and stop a leak.
My disease destroyed the relationship between my father and me. He was a dominant alcoholic, disapproving of everything I did. Phone calls with my father ended with me throwing my phone to pieces against the wall. I believed this was a reasonable reaction for someone with a father like I had. I always acted out after calling him. My resentment against my father was fuel for my sexaholism.
In my experience, I see sobriety as a calm lake that reflects a blue sky, without clouds, without anxiety. I remember that when I had a relapse it was as if someone (myself) had thrown an immense rock and the waters on the surface of the lake were shaking, leaving my mind, my sensations, confused and altered, with anxiety to consume more and more.
I believe the SA newcomer has three levels of disturbance: temptation, obsession, and compulsion. The last level, compulsion, has to be broken first. This is done by the newcomer following every suggestion of the sponsor. When a sponsor suggests an action, I immediately face a decision: follow the sponsor’s suggestion or do what I want to do.
