Author: Rick

I have been in this program for over 10 years and I continue to ask questions to help me understand, answer questions, and see what it was that played a part in my story. It isn’t to find something or someone to blame. There is a more fundamental question lurking. If I was on track to destroy my marriage, my career, my life, why would God intervene and stop that runaway train? I know that I am asking a question that has befuddled theologians forever – why does God have mercy?

I have to acknowledge that I can only understand God’s mercy from a human perspective. Our mercy is triggered by a circumstance, a relationship, a situation. God’s mercy is sourced from His character of being merciful. But I still look for what triggered God’s mercy for me.

The early days of the program helped me see, for the first time, that my growing up years held a lot of challenges for a little boy. There were important building blocks, like reassurance, guidance, and support, that were missing. There were traumatic physical and sexual events in my life that left me questioning “Why me?” I had to come to the conclusion that my parents, my teachers, my coaches failed in protecting and warning me from things that would destroy me.

I have heard this same exact story from everyone that shares in the fellowship. Different facts, dates, and circumstances, but so similar it astonishes us.

But as I have continued listening to those stories, I realize there is another factor. The 2nd wham of the double whammy. There was another safeguard that failed me. Throughout my growing up years, I never had any structure, group, or relationship that invited honest vulnerability to deal with the issues of my life. I have been in countless churches since the day I was born. I have only seen the sad, shaming announcement of someone who is stepping down or leaving because of sexual failure. I have never seen a healthy conversation about dealing with sexual realities. Oh, there were the standard warnings about the evils of [fill in the blank] sins, but nobody ever talked about how that person felt. And even though restoration was talked about, years later, you could never point at that person that had a major moral failure that had continued in fellowship in that group. In every circumstance, they left. Usually never to be heard from again. Something felt broken in that process. And not on the part of the one caught in a moral failure. But on the part of the community that jettisoned and ostracized them from their fellowship.

So when the 12 Steps pointed me in Step 11 to a relationship with my Higher Power, I felt like saying “Really?” Because I assumed that meant I had to go to the religious structures where I had not found health, honesty, and recovery. But I have come to realize that they, the religious structures and culture in my life, also failed me by not providing what was required and needed and described by God.

Why haven’t I seen living examples of the prodigal son returning home or the woman caught in adultery being loved and forgiven? And then the 2nd wham lands. It was the realization that many of the religious structures around us are filled with broken and damaged people that are still using religion as a coping mechanism to find the control and approval they seek.

The 12 Steps suggested in Step 11 that I connect with my Higher Power. It seemed to be subtly saying that perhaps former methods and structures built walls instead of bridges. I realized that had been true for me. I had more erroneous ideas about God than I had correct ones.

I have had to identify and throw out wrong thinking and self-serving lies. I had to allow God to self-describe and communicate however He wanted to. I had to allow God to fix my relationship with Him, as it was broken as well.

And then I had to trust, patiently, that God could fix even the community of faith in my life. And that has been like a river flowing into a desert for the first time. 

Even with the Step Into Action book or other guides, many have said “I don’t know where to start.” Working the Steps isn’t really expected from you as a solo endeavor. But if you want something you can work towards as you get ready, try this: reach out and connect with a brother or your sponsor every day. No expectations. No agenda. Just make a phone call. Check in where you’re at. Good, bad, or indifferent. Rinse and repeat for as long as needed. Why?

We are so broken in our ability to connect and share. We don’t really want to and don’t see why we have to. As we take the simple step of reaching out and connecting, at the suggestion of this program, we learn the skills and come to value the formation of relationships with our brothers. We learn how to look inward, evaluate what we think and feel, and learn how to use words to describe it. We learn how to describe our feelings, emotions both good and bad. We come to find that we are built for this kind of connection and over time, it becomes a healthy and healing part of our lives.

How do I know these things? I experienced them in my early days in the program. My sponsor asked me to connect with him every day as we were working the Steps. It was usually a quick touch base on the way home from work. Nothing deep or serious. It seemed frivolous at first. As the weeks and months continued, it was something that I looked forward to at the end of the day. It was comforting to hear a familiar voice answer that was always glad to hear from me, that always had a word of encouragement, that reminded me of the things I was learning in the Steps. And then, I completed the Steps, I was doing well in sobriety, and I had some opportunities for sponsoring. But I was still calling my sponsor every day. I would tell myself that I really didn’t need that anymore, that it had performed its work. But it hurt too much when I thought of stopping. It was too important. It was something I depended on. I knew I needed to let go, but really struggled. My sponsor knew and helped me get there. He said that I could call him anytime I needed, but that it didn’t need to be everyday anymore. To this day, I feel it was one of the hardest things I have had to do.

What happened? I think something that had been missing in my life was formed and repaired in me. I didn’t have any regular conversations about life like this. I didn’t see this wound. I didn’t know I was bleeding here. Over time, I began to see and feel its effect and impact on me and its value to me grew and grew.

And then it hit me. I felt the same way about my relationship with God. I didn’t know how to talk to Him, what to say, what topics to bring up. I was about to say “and I don’t know how to do that” when I suddenly realized, yes, I do. I had been carefully and gently taught by the investment of time and relationship with my sponsor.

I had been taught how to process, how to think, how to feel, how to describe it with words, to consider other points of view, to listen to what others are saying, and to value the connection. No, it didn’t solve every problem in my life, but having this foundational tool meant I could achieve the objectives of this journey.

I have observed something over time in my own life and the lives of those around me that has concerned me enough to want to describe it and perhaps prevent its appearance in some lives. I am referring to a ticking time bomb that can be present after what appears to be months or years of sobriety and what appears to feel like successful recovery.

It isn’t that the Steps, the SA Fellowship, meetings, phone calls, or sponsors have somehow failed to do what they were intended to do. But that is exactly the problem. We have assumed that those things were sufficient to take us completely into the full recovery and healthy lifestyle that is described in much of the literature.

I have to admit that many of us arrive in the Fellowship with the early perspective of doing the minimal necessary to get the course completion certificate and then get back to normal life. Sometimes we are participating in order to check a box, meet a requirement, or satisfy a demand from someone unhappy with our behavior. Fortunately, many of us also find that it doesn’t work like that, and will continue with the program because we want to and need to.

The ticking time bomb is our dependence on process and procedures as the methodology for achieving long-term sobriety. It is focusing on the external processes instead of repairing and building the internals. You can plaster and paint over rotten wood all you want, but in the end, it will come crashing down. Granted, those processes and procedures did help us change our habits, adopt new healthy strategies, and establish life-giving relationships. Those processes of phone calls, attending meetings, honest sharing in meetings, working Step 10 daily, all had a great impact in our lives. But those processes alone are not enough. They served you the appetizer, but not the main course. Unfortunately, some will be quite satisfied with this stage. There is apparent change (no acting out), there has been consistent investment in recovery, and many of the worrying signs that there was something wrong seem to have faded. Some who enter this program have the goal of putting the pieces of life back together, of getting out of the doghouse and back into the bedroom, of repairing your relationship with your wife to the point that you can enjoy things in life again. 

I do not blame those that feel like they agree with those sentiments. I have felt them myself and recognize the longing for normality, for less tiptoeing around subjects or topics that might set someone off. But I also recognize that I am focusing on the externals, of how my actions, thoughts, and feelings APPEAR to those around me. That is not all that different from the manipulative lies that I used to hide my addiction before. So, am I hiding my continuing brokenness in my new, acceptable set of actions and behaviors? Perhaps. Perhaps I am putting off dealing with the internals because my new externals have taken the pressure off. And that’s where the bomb lies ticking, ticking, ticking. If I am only trying to persuade others around me (my wife, my sponsor, the brothers in the fellowship) that I am doing well or being successful in order to get out of the doghouse, eventually the effort and energy I have been investing will diminish and complacency and drift will kick in. Why?  We used the external motivations of our life crash, relationship crash, or marriage crash to get ourselves to finally face some unpleasant things in our lives. Once those motivations start to wane, we will back off on the gas and put in the minimal effort required. The bomb, if it goes off, is when in a careless or unguarded moment, I return to old habits, just for a short visit, and the entire cycle starts all over again, but it is worse this time. It causes all the previous efforts to be doubted. All the sincere apologies, promises, pledges are seen as suspect; fear and suspicion return, hope and trust seem to exit the relationship. It seems unfair. Can’t a person make a mistake? Not if what I am calling a mistake, a slip, is actually me returning to something I never really let go of. Maybe I was fooling myself, as well as others, and was only doing the self-preservation thing of getting my butt out of the fire.

So, what is required to not have this ticking time bomb? First is to realize that the external processes, though valuable and excellent tools, do NOT accomplish the actual work that is needed to be done IN me. I am not just what others see externally in my actions and the apparent portrayal of my feelings. I am what I truly am internally, my true feelings, my deepest beliefs, my most hidden actions. Second, is to realize what the 12-Steps have said all along. I am incapable of fixing or repairing my own life. Yes, I can learn to manage my behaviors, but I need God to root out what is wrong in my understandings and beliefs about how life operates, the lies I have believed, the feelings I have buried. I can’t even plan the curriculum for that. I don’t know where to start. What do I need to do to begin this process or stay on course? No clue. But as I seek to ask, and listen, and watch, I will see God begin to do for me what I could not do for myself. 

How will I know when this ticking time bomb is defused? When I am no longer using the external processes to convince others that I am better, cured, recovered. When I am operating on new internal processes that deal with life on life’s terms, honestly, truthfully, completely. When I realize that when facing stress, or pain, or fear, the last thought on my mind was to run to my addiction or acting out. That’s when I will realize I don’t hear ticking any more.

This phrase, or perhaps its more familiar acronym – FOMO, seems to be a part of our struggle towards sexual sobriety. It represents a reaction or an attitude that might be found among those that grew up in stricter or disciplinarian homes. These are often churched homes where the standard of doing what is right is often contrasted with the perils and dangers of doing what is wrong. 

I was one who grew up in that sort of environment. And yet, like many others, I found that it created a curiosity, a desire to explore and sample, that beckoned me to cross boundaries that I felt had been placed in my life by others. This is where I encountered FOMO. I think deep down, I felt that others were experiencing things that I never would. I felt that loss of not knowing something or not having an experience as it was forbidden to me. I also rationalized that the warnings of the consequences and implications were just to curb behavior or to ensure compliance. They weren’t REALLY warnings of true danger or risks, were they?

The fact that we are using the phrase, Fear of Missing Out, means that we are listening and paying attention to what others are doing, talking about, portraying on TV shows, commercials, and movies. If the conclusion we come to is that we are missing the “good life”, we have bought into the sales job and fantasy being portrayed. We are listening to the wrong people. We are listening to those that will make a buck from your attention as they seek to influence your values and purchases. So we assume it is all true, it is all legit, and that if I had that thing, experienced that feeling, my life would look like what they are portraying. But we are talking to the wrong people. We should be listening to those that tried those things, let them run their course, and see where it left them. But those people don’t populate our commercials, TV shows, or movies. They inhabit our 12-step rooms of AA, NA, and SA. They are in Half Way Houses or homes for those recently out of jail. They are pushing grocery carts downtown with 3 coats on in the summer. They are under bridges or living in cardboard shelters.

There are many reasons why a person may end up homeless and destitute. Some may have had a decent shot at life with family, education, career, and achievements before they believed the FOMO lies and ran after something else that was apparently eluding them. And then the lies are unmasked as the promises fall flat, the happiness evaporates, and the never-ending yearning for more begins its ceaseless occupation of my mind. I find that I am being destroyed internally and it starts to leak through the patches and duct tape repairs that I had hoped would hide the decay. That sounds like some of the stories I have heard in the SA fellowship, as well as my own story.

How can I counter FOMO? How can I not fall for the false allure of fantasy and promises that are lies?  One thing is to be sure I’m listening to those that are telling the truth about life and its consequences. If all I listen to are commercials, TV shows, and movies as well as social media with its own false version of life and reality, I will be susceptible to swallowing the lies and accepting them as truth. One of the values of attending meetings is hearing real people tell the truth about what the consequences and implications of choices they made a long time ago pursuing a lie.

I remember hearing stories of regret from brothers in the fellowship at how the sparkly string of choices turned into a chain of slavery. I remember realizing that the warnings of the risk and danger were not just platitudes from pious and hyper-conservative kill-joys. And then realizing they were just echoing the warnings that have been there for millennia, generation after generation – the most familiar set of behavioral guidelines ever given. And then I remember being shocked to realize that God, the original manufacturer and designer of my mind and body, had provided those warnings because there was real danger, real risk, a very high chance of damage, destruction, and death. Not because He was a kill-joy. Not because He didn’t want me to be happy. But because He wanted me to be alive, undamaged, and actually able to experience and feel all the things I am created for.

But I thought I knew better and set off to show that those warnings were for others. Not smart guys like me. And boy, was I wrong.

When I first entered the program, I have to admit, that I wanted a number of things:

• I wanted the nightmare to end
• I wanted to erase the events, emotions, and effect of the last few weeks, months, years.
• I wanted to leave the eternal doghouse in my marriage where I would always be wrong and guilty of treachery
• I wanted to put the genie back in the bottle and have everything go back to the way it was

As I think of those early days, I realize that what I was wanting was release from the implications, consequences, and repercussions of my actions and behavior. I know that sounds pretty selfish and egocentric, but that is honestly where my first thoughts went – self-preservation and reputation protection.

After some time in the program, hearing the shares and stories of so many in my same situation, I did notice that my knowledge and interest in what needed to change in my life had changed.

• I wanted my behaviors to change
• I wanted to be successful in ceasing looking at porn, masturbation, and sexual encounters
• I wanted to stop having so many lustful thoughts and desires

This does seem to be a little further in the right direction at least. But even though this seemed to be closer to the acceptance of the problem, it is still looking at the unacceptable behavior as the problem.

And then the real problem showed up. I wasn’t successful. Granted, I enjoyed the benefits of support and sharing in a group, but I still yearned for the pleasure release of ejaculation, the mental soothing of lustful fantasy, the excitement of illicit liaisons. It seemed dichotomous. I think I wanted sobriety, but at the same time I very much wanted my addiction. And I didn’t know how to change that. I didn’t know how to want something different.

You see, I was still fully convinced that by corralling and lassoing the intellect and will and “breaking” them through discipline, I would be able to manage my behaviors by “reforming” these habits and desires.

Time would show that dedicated program behaviors such as reading, journaling, meeting attendance, and phone calls, all did provide a boost to the length of discipline and pushed the habits further away. Which seemed like a form of success. But was it true positive sobriety? I was actively not lusting nor acting out, but is that the same?

I truly believe that most motivated and hard working members that are willing to put in the effort, will get to this point. And some likely are able to maintain this iron grip and will call it long term sobriety. But the haunting question is still, am I still wanting the same things I originally pursued?

If I am honest, when I looked inside, I found that it would take very little to dive back in to the thoughts and pursuits of before. The consequences and implications had been motivation enough to avoid that, but what if circumstances changed? What if the perfect storm of triggers and disasters happened at the same time? Am I truly free and sober if I still fight the specter of wanting those same things?

A sense of panic and terror is how I would describe the thought that eventually settled into my realization. I do not have the ability to change what I want. My will can force my mind and body to make certain choices, but I can’t make myself want something or stop wanting something that I have long pursued.

And then some of the phrases I have heard a thousand times started to make sense:

Until we had been driven to the point of despair, until we really wanted to stop but could not, we did not give ourselves to this program of recovery.

Staying sober is our initial objective; a spiritual awakening is the unintended result. If our experience tells us anything, it is that there is no healing without such an awakening. And the difference between merely not acting out our addiction (being “dry”) and healing is the new life. If we want the old life intact, simply minus the habit, we don’t really want healing, for our sickness is the old way of life. (From Step 12)

“We don’t really want healing.” That thought crushed me. But it seemed like I finally was looking unflinchingly into the mirror and seeing where I truly was. I now knew that I didn’t know how to want what I should want. And even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to execute on that want to do the right thing anyway. It seemed helpless. Hopeless. At least for me. To do on my own. And that is the secret key.

This program of recovery has from the very beginning guided us to turn our lives and wills over to our Higher Power. I think I, like many others, blew past that at first as it didn’t make much sense and seemed mystical and certainly not practical. But here I was, face-to-face with it again. And this time it made sense. I am INCAPABLE of changing my own internal workings. I need to return this beat up model to the manufacturer and get some Authorized Dealer work performed. As the 12th promise says:

We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.

But God isn’t a gumball machine. This is the point where those other concepts I flew past start coming into sharp focus. Acceptance, Surrender, Humility to admit wrong and ask forgiveness. As I ask God daily to work those into my life, it turns out that He is also repairing and restoring aspects of my heart and life that I didn’t even realize were out of alignment or badly damaged.

And then, one day, out of the blue, my wife is noticeably struck by my reaction and words to something that was before us. It seemed that it WASN’T my typical and expected reaction. But it wasn’t the “teeth-clenched, swallow-my-angry-words, force-a-fake-smile” scenario, either. It was something new. But I wasn’t working on that. I could claim no responsibility. And yet I knew exactly where it came from. My wife simply said, “You are not the man I married.” And that is a very good thing.

As recovery continues past the early days of cleaning up our behaviors, attitudes, and actions, we seem to be ticking off the boxes of what we thought successful recovery might look like. But even as we finally see some of the goals we have set for ourselves becoming reality, we should be careful to not let our addiction thinking define successful living in recovery.  Addiction defined success would look like this:

• No triggers
• No stress
• No anxiety
• No anger
• No sadness
• No boredom
• No uncertainty
• No mistakes

At first glance this seems to be a desirable list. But when did we stop being human? Doesn’t this sound like perfection, not progress? These goals are the evidence of making progress, but failure to be perfect in these areas does NOT mean failure.

So, what would a more healthy, balanced view of progress in these areas look like?

Triggers

Triggers are not the problem in my life. My response to them is the challenge. Having no triggers would mean that I no longer remember where I came from and have stopped interacting with my world. Being presented with a trigger is an opportunity to review my tools, the truths I have come to believe, and practice good choices. Having a life with no triggers sounds easy, but it isn’t realistic and would result in weakness as I wouldn’t exercise my choices. Instead I can anticipate where or when I might encounter a trigger, and be prepared with an action plan on what steps to take to stay healthy and on the road of recovery.

Stress

Life will always have stressful situations. We experience stress when we encounter things we didn’t anticipate; unexpected crises; or unplanned outcomes. Stress isn’t entirely bad. Stress is what enables us to focus on the important, push aside the trivial, and seemingly exceed our own capabilities. But we can’t live there long. And it wears us out. We really can’t run away from stress. But understanding how it affects us and healthy ways to care for ourselves can equip us to manage it well.

Anxiety

As a non-omnipotent being, there will always be situations in front of me that I will not have the power to control. That used to drive me to anxiety as I fretted over that fact and my powerlessness. Now that I can accept that and let go of the shame of not being powerful enough to fix everything, I can learn to manage my anxiety in a more healthy way. As I face upcoming issues, I can listen to my anxiety and note why it is there, where is it coming from, what  my options are, and what things can I manage or change.

Anger

My anger surfaced as my frustration at not being able to control people’s thoughts, words, actions, or be able to control the outcome of my circumstances. Once again, life will be full of situations where I encounter people and events that I cannot control, that I cannot change or fix. But that doesn’t mean I have to turn to anger. I already know that I am powerless to do that. So as I grow in my acceptance of this aspect of surrender, I can tell myself truth about the situation, about myself, about others that will help me disconnect from anger. I can learn processes or steps I can take to help me calm my emotions and think clearly. Each scenario I encounter is an opportunity to work on that process and practice the steps that will help me make anger less of a character defect in my life.

Sadness

When I experience loss or remember things in my past that did not result as I wanted them, I can experience sadness. Sadness is one of those catch-all labels that often got all the negative emotions. It was huge and undefinable. No wonder we wanted to run away from it. But instead of running away, we can delve in deeper and understand what we are actually feeling. Could it be lonely, vulnerable, despair, guilty, depressed, hurt? Or even isolated, abandoned, victimized, fragile, grief, powerless, ashamed, remorseful, empty, inferior, disappointed, embarrassed? Understanding what I am actually feeling and why is a start in being able to examine the statements and principles I am believing about myself. That can help me walk through it in a healthy way and not be crippled by it.

Boredom

When I have unscheduled and unsupervised time, it can result in boredom. I know how I used to fill up free time, and that got me into trouble. It does take a while for those mental habits to fade. So we tend to want to run from free time and fill our lives with busyness and supervision so we won’t have choices In which to fail. But what we are perceiving as dangerous free time can become the elusive peace and tranquility that so many search for. To be able to sit alone, quietly, and think healthy thoughts, and feel healthy feelings is a gift and a blessing. To be able to embrace that and welcome it is something that I want to strive towards in my growth in recovery.

Uncertainty

I wonder if I really have a problem with uncertainty, or with the possible rejection and disapproval after I make a wrong choice. As a non-omniscient being, I know I won’t always make perfect choices. But I don’t have to be frozen in indecision nor terrified of a bad decision. I can approach the issue in a healthy way, gathering information, accepting input and wisdom, discussing my options, and reviewing the implications. All that can help me manage my fears of making a decision in a healthy way. Being in recovery does not mean I will be supremely confident and right all the time. It just means I use healthier ways to make decisions and in how I treat myself.

Mistakes

Mistakes can be closely related to uncertainty in making life decisions. But it could also involve the dreaded slips and relapses we have heard about that some don’t come back from. In the early days of recovery, we are so focused on portraying the accepted set of behaviors that will NOT result in separation, divorce, jail, that we assume mistakes are not allowed. Sometimes we have actually heard those words: “This is your last chance.” But this isn’t a healthy environment. If we do make a bad choice, we may be tempted to continue hiding and lying about it like we used to. I was surprised to see that my slips and mistakes once in recovery were very different. I felt them more deeply. They motivated me more thoroughly. I am actually glad that I had a few slips and relapses along the way. It is a great cure for pride and bigheadedness. But it also told me that is where I DON’T want to be. If you can recover in that kind of understanding and forgiving environment, you are not only blessed, but you have a greater chance of seeing your life and those around you transformed by what you are learning.

So success in recovery for me has become being the imperfect, damaged person that I am, with the freedom to keep making mistakes, but learning from them, to keep being affected by hurtful circumstances, but dealing with them healthily, to be at peace with myself and not needing to pretend to be anyone else.

I have a secret. And it might sound like good news. We are not addicted to sex.

After any time at all in this program, you are probably shaking your head. Because if we have proven or are certain of anything after being in this program, it is that we are addicted to sex. But after 8 years in this program and learning and growing and being involved in many lives, I am beginning to see something. And it isn’t really good news.

It isn’t just sex that we are addicted to. It is much worse. And bad news. We are addicted to SELF.

We are completely and wholly dedicated to ourselves. Our own egos, our pride, our feelings, our pleasure, our own thoughts, our own opinions, our own decisions. We have done everything to get to autonomy and independence.

I am not describing only the strong, rebellious, forceful character that we imagine shaking his fist in the sky and daring the world to cross our paths and stand in our way. I am also describing the one who has withdrawn in fear and isolation, pulled back from every contact, vulnerability, weakness, or past painful memory to prevent any possibility of recurrence. That is also the way of self.

Somewhere along the path, we realized that no one was going to swoop in and rescue us; no one was going to pluck us out of the pain, the hurt, the fear. So we had to figure out the best way with what we had at that time. Which wasn’t much.

So we looked for the best methods, the acceptable actions, attitudes, facial expressions, and words that were expected, approved, and demanded. And we learned how to plaster them on our faces. But it didn’t change the pain, the hurt, the ache, the loneliness, the fear.

So we also explored the most potent potions, the chemicals, and processes that would release the hormones that would either distract with excitement, or soothe the pain, or numb the ache. Even when we knew it was only temporary. Even when we knew it was giving up, not caring anymore, and tossing in the towel. Even when we knew it would damage, corrode, erode, and destroy us.

But it isn’t just the chemicals or hormones stolen from body systems that were hijacked to serve our selfish purposes. That constant inward bent, the swirling in my own ego-driven world, the complete focus on me, my problems, my wants… also damages, corrodes, erodes, and destroys me. Not just my body. But my soul. My heart.

I am built for something more. I am designed to see, hear, and respond to the words, feelings and situations of those around me. I am designed to have compassion, empathy towards those around me…expressed in other-care. And I am astonished how I feel when I finally see my own self-centeredness and egoism, and begin to reject it, and step outside of myself to be touched by the lives of others. And then to be so bold as to reach out to touch another’s life – because I have heard, I have seen, I have cared, I have been touched. I can feel their pain, I can experience their suffering….and I am moved to do something, to help, provide something, even if just a word, a look, a smile, a hug. Or even more – like to make a contribution to meet a need, to begin an ongoing practice of selfless service with no reward – other than this mysterious glow inside me when I practice selflessness. It feels really good. It feels like something that gives me value and purpose, that reminds me I am human, and makes me realize my own pain has had a purpose. It has enabled me to recognize it in others.

As I learn to see myself as I really am, to admit my utter selfishness, as I learn how to surrender my control, to let go of those things that spark anger and frustration, I realize I am plowing the hard-packed, lifeless soil of my life. As I let things like honesty, vulnerability, disciplines such as prayer and meditation become a part of my life, and allow my twisted views and perceptions about my Higher Power to be corrected, re-perceived, and received…I notice that this patch of soil has been watered, warmed, and nourished by the new ingredients in my life: peace, tranquility, serenity, freedom. Certainly not perfection, and not in such quantities that all my previous struggles and frustrations are gone, but enough to make a difference. These ingredients have become a part of my new soul diet. I didn’t realize I had been starving.

But the most astonishing thing is when something appears in this patch of tilled and tended soil. A quality, a trait that has not been a part of my life. It is usually noticed by others first. And my first reaction is that it wasn’t something I was pursuing or working on. And then it dawns on me. It is the fruit. It is part of the promises and blessings. It is the result of seeds I did not plant. It is Someone Else’s work. For these things were not in me before.

So, I guess there is good news after all.

These thoughts are shared from a very personal experience and deal with spiritual concepts.

I have always known that my view and perception of God was skewed by my negative experiences growing up with my father who when he wasn’t angry, violent, or yelling, was disappointed, disconnected, and absent from my life. I have been able to process a lot of that through the Steps, through reading books on the topic of sons and fathers, and both sharing and listening to shares of brothers in the fellowship.

I have come to realize that knowledge of something is not the end of the line. It was very encouraging and empowering to be able to speak about, acknowledge the role my father had in my life, identify the pain, hurt, and brokenness, and grapple with the concepts of surrender and forgiveness. But that didn’t make my own struggle and brokenness go away.

I don’t think I was so naïve as to think that at some point, all that I was doing in my recovery would result in a complete eradication of the lust-driven thoughts, desires, urges that have plagued me for years. But I have heard and read about some that did describe a resolution, a reduction in their level of lust, to the point that their day-to-day life is nearly free from it. I had not experienced that even though I can definitely say that my life is NOT the same as the person I was that entered this program 7 years ago.

I knew that the concept of surrender was probably involved. But surrender is more than just recognizing what I have no control over. It is more than choosing right responses and actions instead of anger or resentment. It is more than making phone calls and attending meetings. I knew it probably involved God, but it was also more than just admitting that I don’t have control and God does. I can vaguely “surrender” to God but it felt like I was just passively letting something go and saying God has it now. But it seemed incomplete. And it wasn’t effective.

It felt like there must be something more, but it wasn’t something that was just knowledge or some technique or tactic that I could practice. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It eluded me even as it steadily beckoned me to go further, deeper. Over time, I felt that I should continue pursuing recovery and understanding. But how? Where do I start? Doing the Steps again didn’t seem like it was where I should go. I felt ill-equipped. There was no map. There was no book to outline the process. No guide to sponsor me. Is this an aspect of surrender that I had never imagined before?

I reflected that God might be inviting me to continue into understanding and to be taught. Not that I was expecting heavenly Zoom calls, rather, that the process would be guided and superintended by Someone other than me. That sounded different, but I couldn’t argue myself out of it. If the premise of God’s love and value of me is true, then it would follow that He would be interested and invested in my path and progress in recovery.

And so, I began an itinerary-less journey, into a curriculum-free classroom, for an unscripted procedure – following an unseen path led by God’s Unseen Hand. It sounds slightly scary, but then again, slightly reminiscent of the way God worked with men by calling them to follow him into an unknown future. It also felt that there was little to risk and everything to gain. Why not?

I assumed that I should let God call the shots and introduce the things I needed to know, understand, or feel. At the same time, I didn’t feel like standing with my hands behind my back. I thought I could read some books while I was waiting. The first one was suggested by some unusual remarks from our Pastor while he was visiting in our home. He was pre-reading and preparing to lead the adult Sunday School class through this book in the Fall. He said that he had never read anything like this. He had been gobsmacked and undone by some of the thoughts and concepts. That alone was intriguing, but then he mentioned the topic and title. The topic was the real attitude and posture of Jesus towards sinners  and sufferers. The title was “Gentle and Lowly” by Dane Ortlund. I knew I wouldn’t be waiting until the Fall.

And then I realized this could be the first lesson. Perhaps my perception and perspective, my attitudes damaged by brokenness and pain, were in need of repair, of correction. I agreed that might be the case and tentatively read the Introduction. I wasn’t even into the 2nd paragraph before I was gripped by the pointed descriptions of thoughts and attitudes that sounded like I had written them.  I felt vaguely spied upon as these words pierced me – “This book is written…[f]or those of us who know God loves us but suspect we have deeply disappointed him.” I will not review all that I learned from this book, but I mention it as it was so obviously something that needed to be addressed. I felt a little better as I considered this an example of how things might proceed in the future. If God were able to gently put his finger on an area of my life and bring truth and thoughts for me to consider, this might actually prove to be more effective than I expected.

The concepts and effect of this book were still lingering in my mind. But once again, knowledge and awareness of something is not the same as transformation. I was sensitized to the fact that I attributed my Dad’s attitudes and disappointment to God, and that wasn’t fair, nor right. I couldn’t seem to get past that if I were God and had standards and rules, that I would be disappointed with me. Those rules and standards made me think that is what He was looking for. The book had helped me see that God had a different attitude than I expected. But it still didn’t click. What about the rules and standards?

I wasn’t sure where the next lesson would come from. And this one caught me off guard. Our Pastor had been preaching a series through the book of Jude. One Sunday, I was following along, but likely pondering my own questions of God’s view of me. Our Pastor is not a bombastic preacher, but he does get emphatic and passionate from time to time. He was making a point that rose in volume and then I heard these words – “I never wanted your perfection. I only wanted your heart.” He must have been describing the words of God through the prophets to His people. But I was no longer hearing a message on Jude. I was again pierced by the words said straight into my heart. The tears flowed as I melted into understanding and acceptance of another thing that needed to be fixed. I had for so long assumed that God wanted performance, perfection, adherence, compliance. It never occurred to me that he would value the broken, incapable, messed up me as I was. Even though I could quote you 6 Bible passages and 3 hymns that spoke of this, it had never been spoken TO me. It made sense as it matched the attitude of the Prodigal’s Father, that ran, weeping, to his repentant son. He didn’t require him to shower first, or show some progress, or get a job, or change his attitude. He valued him, warts and all. It doesn’t make sense until you are the prodigal and see this weeping man running towards you.

Many of us have expressed the sentiment asking “Why did I insanely keep doing things I didn’t want to?” We knew it would hurt us and others. We knew it was based on lies. We knew it would be increasingly destructive. Yet, we persisted.

I have wondered about that and the apparent violation of my will – which I thought to be autonomous and independently operating from my actions and behaviors. I thought that I should be able to decide, based on my knowledge and awareness, that I should now be able to choose to do something different than I was choosing before. But that didn’t work. It made me feel weaker than I thought myself to be. It wasn’t an issue with WANTING to get away from this addiction. It was that I couldn’t seem to execute the decision. And I didn’t understand why.

Early on in my recovery, I had noticed something as I struggled with triggers and urges on a daily basis. There seemed to be a surge of urges after a stressful interaction or a bout of anger. Like a solution was being presented. It wasn’t something I was actively pursuing. It seemed unfair. But when things were calm and peaceful, I felt like I was being left alone and the urges seemed to drift away. It wasn’t quite freedom, but I was getting a small taste of what it might be like. I eventually noticed that my mind and body seemed to be reacting to the anger or stress by offering a solution that I had previously gone to. It was as if my mind and body were trying to be helpful and were offering to start the engine on some of the stress-relieving thoughts and behaviors I had used before. It made some sense, but I felt like it gives my mind and body a separate identity or purpose that I’m pretty sure isn’t there. So, I still couldn’t explain it.

And then I stumbled across an illustration of how powerful and deeply etched repeated habits can be in our lives. A few months ago, my wife was cleaning out bathroom cabinets and drawers and came across quite a number of those little tubes of toothpaste samples that you get at the dentist at every checkup. She suggested that we should use them for the next few months and put them on the bathroom sink counter in plain sight so we would remember. I was fully onboard with the plan as there was nothing wrong with that toothpaste and it had been free, so to speak.

The problem was what happened every time I went to the bathroom sink to brush my teeth. You see, for 30+ years, I had reached for the left-hand drawer where the toothpaste was. I fully intended to use the little tubes of toothpaste, but my left hand kept reaching down for the drawer even after I had noticed the little tubes and knew that I needed to pick one of them up. The first time it happened, I chuckled at how we are such creatures of habit. After 3 weeks of continuing to reach for the drawer, making myself stop, closing the drawer, and reaching for a little tube of toothpaste, I began to wonder at the power of this repeated habit.

As I reflected, I realized I may have stumbled on a bit of understanding that would help me explain other areas in my life. I had assumed that my conscious mind, my will, was completely in charge of the actions and functions of parts of my body – my left hand, to be specific. But as I approached the sink with the intention of brushing my teeth, another system took over and apparently independently operated this particular movement for me. I will call this the subconscious, though there may be a more accurate psychological term. But it is definitely operating below the level of the conscious mind, so it will work as a label.

I could see how moving these daily, routine choices and actions to the subconscious layer freed up bandwidth in my mind and allowed my brain to work on other things. If we had to make the conscious decisions for every thought and movement (lift right foot, swing right leg forward, counter-swing left arm, transfer weight to right foot, lift left foot, swing left leg forward, etc.) we would have little time to think, reflect, observe, or contemplate anything else.

So my helpful brain had noticed the oft-repeated movement towards the left-hand drawer and took over that function from my conscious mind and will. What I didn’t expect was the tenacity with which it continued even when I had introduced a new desired pattern of behavior. And that’s when it clicked.

I had encountered, in the SA program and fellowship, new information, new processes, new support mechanisms, new relationships. I assumed that my ability to see these things and value them would logically progress to my ability to choose them and aim my thoughts, actions, and behaviors in that direction. I was wrong. It was way harder than I expected. I knew there was chemical withdrawal, which I expected, but this was something else entirely. These were the ruts that I created in my mind and body through my persistent and stubborn repetition of thoughts and behaviors that were now a part of my subconscious architecture of my life.

Did this make recovery impossible? No. But I would need to add this to the list of things to overcome and replace in my life. If I built this through repeated habit, then it stands that I can build something else through stubborn and persistent choices for health and recovery.