Lust corrupted my childhood. I was violated when I was very young—an inappropriate act that distorted my perception of sexuality, reality, and love. For years afterward I went around with an aching, infinite emptiness inside me. I bandaged the pain with a blindfold and contented myself to live in darkness, like someone living down a deep water well.
The photo below was taken from a bluff overlooking the Turnagain Arm and the Chugach Mountain Range of Alaska. Let me share with you the story behind it.
This is what Step 4 is designed to achieve. The question “What was my part?” is not designed to blame the victim who has a resentment against a wrong that was done to them. The question goes to what part of me is broken that keeps this pain alive? How have I taken myself out of the land of the living because of this resentment?
Ironically, I spent the first nine months of my existence in a dark place, a sort of tunnel, sheltered from the light, from real life, as it were. Then, I was thrust into the light, into the real world. But, over time, I found this light blinding and painful. All I knew to do was to look for a dark place to escape back to, somewhere that made me feel better.
Once a beachhead is established, defeat of the enemy is inevitable. Even if the first sallies out of the beachhead meet with stiff resistance and are driven back, it doesn’t matter; once a beachhead is established, enemy collapse is assured.
Recently, I have been attending meetings where the readings were taken from our Recovery Continues book. In one meeting, we read: “Lust is a function of my ego, just as resentment is. I, the lord of my life—lord over that lust object and over that resentment object—unleash a spiritual force against them both, against their wills, perverting the reality of their person to suit my twisted need. What is that negative connection? Why must I keep on making it? So I won’t have to look at myself.” (RC 43)
I have been struggling with my 9th Step for almost a year now due to Covid and all that not being able to travel freely. But in the past two months at the encouragement of my sponsor I have discovered writing letters like this and have found much freedom in them:
Recently, I awoke early to start my day before it became hot and humid. I prayed my usual prayers, but thought to myself that I would save morning meditation to a more convenient time. Perhaps this was the beginning of obsession trying to creep into my mind as I ignored the line, “On awakening let us think about the twenty-four hours ahead. We consider our plans for the day …” (AA 86).
It took me nine years in SA to realize that continually praying to God to “keep me sober,” and to “take away my lust” wasn’t working for me. I discovered that this kind of prayer was just another subtle way of trying to manage my life by asking God to do what I thought He should do for me.
Recently, I was waiting for some medical results, which, if negative, may have meant some serious consequences. Fear gripped me, but I did not share my feelings with anyone. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, I found myself back in self-reliance, relying on finite self instead of infinite God.
