Sometimes it's embarrassing being a sexaholic. At 30, I still have the same interests as a boy who's just hit puberty, and about the same intelligence.
All my life, Lust has held out candy with his left hand while behind his back, he hides a hammer. I eat the candy, then he hits me with the hammer. I reel and cry, then he holds out another piece of candy, promising not to use the hammer this time. I eat it and get the hammer again. When I hear Lust is patient, it means that Lust never grows tired of this game. I guess apparently neither do I, though I enjoy it less. He's hit me so many times on the head, I have a bald spot.
He's certainly reliable. He delivers the candy, then the hammer. Actually, sometimes he forgets the candy, but never the hammer. You know the saying, "fool me once." Well, fool me thousands of times...
I've been turning my will and life over to a Liar Power for years. If life is a car, and I'm the driver, Lust has been my GPS, navigating me in circles and trying to direct me over cliffs. So I give the GPS for my life over to my sponsor, who's driven the route to "Freedom" for years and has now been directing me there for months.
I used to think the suggestions of sober SA people were crazy. Insanity views sanity as insanity. I'm like the man in the asylum who claims he's Napoleon. What is the most insane idea he could hear? That he's not Napoleon.
So what if you were to tell the man, as a working hypothesis, why don't you just pretend for a little while that you aren't Napoleon? He agrees. He makes friends, he gets a job, his life improves.
But after a while, he asks if he can just take down one little map and plan one itsy bitsy military manoeuver? "No!" Can he put on a tri-corner hat just for a second? "No!" That's me when I tease with lust and believe I won't end up back on the funny farm.
There's logic in insanity. In real life, I'm just ordinary me. In Acting Out Land, I'm a god. Of course it's cooler to think I'm Don Juan than John Doe. For the insane man, when he's not Napoleon--Commander of Armies, Emperor of Nations--he's Bob.
So if I were sponsoring this guy, what would be the sign to me that he's starting to Napoleonize? He starts to isolate. He spends more time alone and doesn't make calls or meetings. His mind starts to work on him and he thinks real life isn't all it's cracked up to be and it's more romantic to be Napoleon.
It's hard giving up Napoleon. But in my case, it leads to a fate worse than death: a living death. And sobriety is more fun than being Napoleon.