I’m Gershon and I’m a sexaholic. As a single recovering sexaholic, I’m very grateful that I haven’t engaged in physical sex with myself or anyone else since 2015. I’m grateful that I haven’t used pornography, called a phone sex line or entered a place of sexual entertainment since then. Come to think of it, there are quite a few things that I have not done during the last six years, and my life is certainly much better for it.
Is this the part where I pat myself on the back for all of the “progress” that I’ve made?
No.
I recently hit rock bottom with sexual fantasy. It wasn’t the devastating type of crash that I experienced at the end of my two year relapse in 2015. I don’t know how I survived that, and I don’t think that I could survive going to half of the depth to which I sunk in those days. To me, rock bottom doesn’t mean that there are no lower depths to which I can dig; it means that the next handful, shovelful, or bulldozer load of dirt will be the one that buries me.
I’ve been saying for a while that sexual fantasy is my top plate in lust. It saps my energy and steals my time. I can feel as drunk or hung over from this type of indulgence as I have from other forms of lust. The fact that I don’t have to go anywhere, don’t have to pay for it, and there’s no chance of anybody seeing my computer screen or overhearing my conversation only add fuel to the fire.
Despite what I’m not doing, what I am thinking has proven to be a highly intoxicating, addictive and destructive form of lust. I have experienced the same difficulty putting a sexual fantasy out of my mind as I have experienced with getting up from my computer, hanging up the phone, or walking past a sex industry establishment. Just as I’m powerless on my own to refrain from lust with my body, I have the same powerlessness when trying to fight lust in my mind.
I was in denial about sexual fantasy being a risk to my sobriety, my sanity and my ability to be the person that God would have me be. It’s only in the mind, I would tell myself. I was willfully blind to its corrosive effects. It wasn’t until a recent experience where sexual fantasy took me past a number of boundaries to the edge of a relapse that I began to acknowledge the danger that I was in.
In the early morning after a late night that was filled with fantasy, I made a phone call to a member with whom I speak very often. I asked him if he had any suggestions, and he recommended something that was surprising in its simplicity—something that I did reflexively in early recovery, but was now neglecting in my “sophisticated” approach. The immediate actions that helped me to turn the corner that day were prayer, getting out of the house and getting on the phone to somebody who I might be able to help.
I also got real about the quality of my program. I’ve been neglecting something quite basic. There are many good reasons that the White Book tells us that a major part of recovery is meetings, meetings, meetings, meetings and meetings. They simply work. I had been finding many excuses to decrease my meeting attendance dramatically. One in person meeting ended, and another in person meeting is too far away. One Zoom meeting ended, and I don’t know the people in another Zoom meeting. As my travel increased during the past year, I didn’t make enough efforts to go to local or Zoom meetings, or to increase other forms of connection with SA members to offset my decreased meeting attendance. While I am active in SA on the group and individual level, the lack of meetings really created a spiritual vacuum for me.
I’ve made other helpful additions to my program. Several weeks ago, I started daily gratitude shares with a US program member who I met through our Jerusalem Zoom meetings. As grateful as I am for the gift of sexual sobriety, I try as often as possible to include other positive aspects of my personal life and the world around me that I have taken for granted in the past. I’ve also developed a consistent night time routine that includes program prayers and readings. Positive actions are important, but to maintain my sexual and emotional sobriety, boundaries are essential, too. In early recovery I implemented time and place boundaries for Internet use. My recent struggles have reminded me that what worked on the first day continues to work every day.
God created the sexual instinct in human beings. As a sexaholic, I have allowed this instinct to run wild. I have used many forms of sex to fill a spiritual need by excessive use of a physical activity. Freedom from sex outside of marriage, pornography and other types of lust with my body did not come easily. I couldn’t have done it on my own. I’m grateful for the SA program of recovery. By turning to God and others, I’ve been able to refrain from physical activities that are the “luxury” of others but dangerous for me.
I acknowledge that for me, sexual fantasy is an equally dangerous abuse of a God-given instinct. Through prayer, meditation and action I can identify my physical, spiritual and emotional needs, and make safe choices in meeting them.
Thank you for letting me share what it was like before, what happened, and what it’s like today.
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