My life in recovery is full of miracles today—the biggest of them is that I am recovering from this disease, this enslavement to lust, for which there is no cure. And another huge miracle is that I am grateful today; I used to be never grateful.
I did not quit, I surrendered. I began my journey in this program when a friend from Al-Anon told me I was a sexaholic. To prove her wrong, I agreed to go to six SA meetings. During those six meetings I slowly came to admit that I was a sexaholic. At the beginning I made no eye contact with other members and I did not share. There were six other SA women at my first home group meeting. We went to two meetings a week as a group, which helped me to connect with the program and then I started to share.
At first I thought that the term, “sobriety,” didn’t fit with what I thought a sexaholic was because I had no experience with alcoholism. But when I came into these rooms eight years ago I learned that sobriety was difficult to obtain because it was about my state of mind and what I might do with it if I didn’t get spiritually fit.
Participation in conventions is one of the strongest recovery tools, which I was able to experience again last weekend, together with almost 50 fellows from seven countries. Beginning of January has become a priority in my diary since I first went to the Exeter winter convention last year.
My experience of joy in service through making SA a better place for women includes how one individual, then a homegroup, then intergroup, and finally the SA international community made themselves better places by taking measures to more comfortably accommodate me, a woman.
A few years before I came to SA, I saw several therapists. I didn't realize it then, but I was looking for a “higher power” that would save me from myself, that would carry me. Being saved and carried was exactly what I tried to find in lust.
If I had to choose one word to describe how I felt for most of my life, I would choose "disconnected." I had a hard time making friends in both kindergarten and school. There were many engaging ways to escape reality—creating stories in my head, adventure books, and video games.
A few days ago one of my dearest friends came up to me with good news. “I have a boyfriend!” she said. I was so happy for her. She really deserves it. I was always asking myself why someone as beautiful, kind and smart as she is wasn’t in a relationship. I even thought that maybe she had some kind of problem, like my sexaholism. Then it struck me that now I was (and still I am) the only single girl amongst my various groups of friends.
Loneliness, rejection, and fear have acted as a soundtrack in my head for as long as I can remember. They form rhythm and melodies filled with dissonance. Each track is made complete with a verse, chorus, and bridge:
I joined SA in pandemic times, two years ago, which was a good thing in one way, as there were very many daily Zoom meetings available. This was crucial to safeguarding my physical sobriety, countless times. I got something of a reputation as a strange Brit, who showed up at all hours of the night in USA meetings, for this reason. I saw it as going to any lengths.
