The First Day of the Rest of my Life

Since sex has been my obsession, my fascination, my blessing, my curse, my emotional rescue and addiction since at least the age of 16… at which point did I finally realise that my life was now unmanageable?

On a day when I should have been working at home, instead I invited a man to my house.  I had met him before, for one hour, over coffee.  I didn’t even find him particularly attractive.  But my brain was convulsed with excitement: the thrill of the chase, the lure of seduction.  Yet again, I was desperate to be objectified and desired.  This was now all I was.  My life was little more than a succession of quick fixes, highs and lows.  On the way to my house for a pre-arranged sexual encounter, this man made jokes about forcing me into doing things I didn’t want to do.  Fear galvanised my desire; I felt sicker even as I felt more aroused, because I was deep in active addiction and I was truly sick.  In the middle of a fairly unsatisfying sexual and kinky sexual encounter, a miscommunication occurred: this man hit me several times across the face, sending me into shock, and I forgot my safe words in terror as he held me down.  I was paralysed in my mind as well as my body.  In a second, my mind came out of my body, and I floated up above my own self, and wondered, how did I get here? How?

A day later, I was in a local SAA meeting for the fourth time.  Nothing had happened.  I had come along every week and felt more and more desolate.  But that night was different.  As tears fell down my face, I told my story: the fear, the shame, the paralysing fear, the confusion and lack of control.  There was one other woman in the room.  As I spoke she looked at the floor; I wondered what I could have done to upset her.  (We later became friends in fellowship, and she has explained to me that, in fact, my story moved and stung her to the core, and she found it hard to look at me).  At the end of that meeting, she came up to me and she said, you’re so brave, but you need a sponsor.

Oh no, I’m fine…

You need a sponsor.

No, no really, I’m not ready.

You need a sponsor.  If not, next time it could be worse. You could die.  Do you want that?

Ok, I’ll find a sponsor.

That woman was my angel.  I will never forget her.  And then, the rest of my life began.  

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