Keystone (Day 70 of sobriety)

Happy Thanksgiving to all, especially to Keystone, which very likely saved my life, and I do mean that literally.

Two years ago at Thanksgiving I was a resident of the Keystone ECU sex addiction treatment center in Chester, PA, just outside Philadelphia. It's an amazing program, and I learned more about myself in 40 days than I had in 30 years of therapy (off and on). I haven't stayed sober, but that's not on Keystone, it's on me. About half of the guys I was in treatment with have stayed sober for two years, and anyone who knows anything about sex addiction knows that is an amazing success rate.

I picked Keystone over other programs because it's the only one I could afford: $12,800 for 30 days (the length I initially signed up for). I know that may seem like a lot, but it's half of what most of the other programs charge, including the one in Mississippi where Tiger Woods went. I was worried why it was half the price, whether the program wasn't as good. But all of these sex addiction facilities, including Keystone, were started by Patrick Carnes, the guru of sex addiction, author of the seminal (not semen-al, get your mind out of the gutter) book, Out of the Shadows. No, the reason Keystone is so much cheaper is the facility: A huge drafty stone mansion more than a hundred years old, with no pool, no weight room, no grounds to speak of. The residents have daily chores -- cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming, dusting -- and once a week on Sunday afternoon we did "spiritual cleaning," 2-3 hours of scrubbing the place top to bottom. Yep, we paid good money to be maids. So are you expecting a picnic in treatment? I think the austere environment actually helped us; we weren't there to play around in any way, shape or form.

The program included 5-6 hours of group therapy a day, individual counseling 1-3 times a week, and 12-step meetings six nights a week. Intense is an understatement. Different individuals were the focus of various group therapy sessions, which included such things as reading to the group our life history, including our addiction history, which had to be a minimum of 20 hand-written pages (most guys wrote 30-40); reading to the group a list of all our victims and how we victimized each one; having another resident read to us a "cost letter" mailed from a loved one describing the hurt our addiction had cost them; and lots of role playing ... that wasn't playing at all. I shouldn't even call it role-playing, because it was deadly real.

One of the weekly sessions was called psychodrama, run by an absolute genius therapist named Nancy who we affectionately called Yoda behind her back. She was less than 5 feet tall, kind of dumpy, with a high-pitched little girl voice and a rather insane laugh. She would walk in and we would greet her with a combination of awe and fear. We didn't know ahead of time who she was going to pick to be the subject that day, or what she had in mind, but we knew that whomever she picked was going to experience one of the most profound two hours of their life.

Nancy would call on someone and have them take a chair by her in the front of the room, and she would ask a series of probing questions, like what was the greatest trauma you ever experienced, or how did your parents treat you as a child, or who would you most like to say something to about your life. What was amazing is that SHE didn't have a plan of what was going to happen, either! Based on the answers to the questions, she would set up a scenario. For me, it involved my parents and my older sister. Then she would ask for volunteers from the group to play those roles. One at a time the volunteers would sit in my seat, and I would sit in theirs, and I would act the part of the relative while the volunteer portrayed me. So as my father, I screamed at the housemate in my chair, who cowered like a little boy. This was just the beginning, a "training exercise" so that my fellow sex addict knew how to portray my Dad. Then he took his seat back and I took my seat back. Once all the players had been trained, Nancy would present an actual situation from my childhood. "OK, let's say that you played outside in your good pants and ripped them and now your Dad is mad about it." And we would act out the drama. Except it wasn't acting. The feelings were absolutely real: I felt like I was 8 years old being verbally abused by my father. And I had the opportunity to say to him all the things I was afraid to say, that I have had a need to say for 50 years!

I know this all sounds a little silly, but it felt as real as a heart attack. In most of these role-plays, big tough sex addict guys wound up crying like babies. Don't knock it till you've tried it.

And that was just the beginning. Once the trauma was re-experienced, Nancy would find a way to help us heal. For me, she said I needed to be "born again," and she didn't mean in the Christian sense. She meant born again as a child who believed in his intrinsic self-worth, rather than a child filled with self-loathing because of the loathing imparted by his (my) father.

Now you're going to think this next part is really stupid. She had a bunch of guys sit on the floor in two rows, back to back. One of the guys and a female therapist sat in chairs at the end of this row. She said that the rows of guys were the birth canal, and the couple at the end were my parents -- but loving parents instead of what they had been. And my job was to make it through the birth canal. So I got down on the floor on my belly and started trying to push my way through the guys. But Nancy told them to make it hard for me, so they were pushing their backs against one another so it was extremely difficult to get through; I mean I was truly fighting to move forward, and it probably took me 10 minutes to move 10 feet. Now I know what you're thinking, how ridiculous this all sounds, a guy squirming on his belly through a line of other guys. What a bunch of new-age psycho-babble, right? Wrong! When I finally "emerged" from the "birth canal," and my parents were there to catch me and hold me and soothe me, well I absolutely broke down. And in the arms of my new "parents," my self-image changed DRAMATICALLY. I no longer think of myself as a "bad boy" who can't do anything right and has no control over his life and could be verbally or physically abused at any moment. I now think of myself as an intrinsically good person who has made some bad choices and hurt some people he wishes he hadn't hurt.

I've tried to describe this as best I can, but it's one of those things where you have to be there. When I was crying in my "parents' arms," everybody else in the room was crying, too.

I have no doubt that without Keystone I would be facing "jails, institutions and death," as they say in NA (Narcotics Anonymous). I was definitely on that road. My thanks, on this day of thanks, is opverwhelming.

There is no experience like being in treatment. I made half a dozen friends for life, guys that I talk with on the phone at least once a week, even though I haven't seen them in a year and a half (we did have a reunion in May 2009). I know I may never see some of them again. And yet I know I can call on them any hour of the day or night and they will pick up the phone and listen ... and accept me no matter what I have done ... and hold me accountable for my behavior ... and remind me of the tools I have to stay sober.

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was the best $16,000 I ever spent, and all other residents I know say the same thing. Oh yeah, why the extra dough beyond the original price? Because they asked me to stay an extra 10 days. Pissed me off royally at the time, but they said I had not progressed enough and they wouldn't give me a "full graduation" unless I stayed. I could have left -- I didn't have legal issues like some of the guys who had to follow the therapists' recommendations -- but of course they were right: Those last 10 days had the most impact on me, including the psychodrama, which they had refused to do during the first 30 days because they said I was not ready to handle it. I know, you're thinking this is just a way to squeeze more money out of this poor sap. But it wasn't. These are BRILLIANT therapists, and I don't say that lightly, having been involved in the field myself. When they say you need to stay longer, then you need to stay longer -- and that happens with probably about half the clients.

So I accepted that recommendation. Unfortunately, I rejected another -- which was that I should not go straight home but rather into a "halfway house" for sex addicts. My therapist told me that my marriage was toxic, my wife codependent, and that significant changes needed to occur in that relationship. But I didn't listen, and now ... in the next couple weeks I will be officially divorced. But that is the subject of another post sometime in the future.

If you are a sex addict -- if you are powerless over your sexual acting out and your life has become unmanageable -- then get your ass to Keystone. www.keystonecenterecu.net/

You will never be the same. You'll be better. And you will have ...

Hope

Talking with my lover (day 68 or ...)

So much has happened in the last few days. My lover and I are talking! A lot! Like daily. And while she is pessimistic about reunion, I feel so blessed that she wants to talk with me at all. I want her back as my lover, but if I have to settle for friendship I will do that. I can't say a lot more because she asked me not to write any details on this blog.

I've also changed my sobriety date. I think I ws being too hard on myself. I haven't had an orgasm since Sept. 16, so why isn't that my sobriety date? I reset it once because I touched myself without going to completion. I reset it again when I was not rigorously honest with my psychiatrist about having stopped one of my medications. But I have met the Sexahiolics Anonymous definition of sobriety the whole time -- no sex with self or anyone other than a spouse. So maybe I can give myself a break!

Sobriety from sex addiction is confusing. It's not like alcohol or drugs -- you either have used the substance or you have not. But sex and eating are "process addictions" rather than "substance addictions," and the definition of sobriety is thus more complicated.

When I first spoke with my lover a few days ago, she said, "I thought you'd have 60-some days. Why don't you?" I explained it, and she didn't say anything; she doesn't want to interfere in such decisions.

I guess I should discuss this with my sponsor. Duh. He's my S-advisor. I'll do that. Maybe I'll have to change the number back to a lesser amount. But for now, I'm following the SA definition.

Of course, if I get my lover back we will make love, which will violate SA because we aren't married. Sobriety is confusing. Really! But I have ....

Hope

Divorce (day 22)

I haven't posted in a while, even though a lot has happened. Not sure why, I just didn't feel like it. I hope to make several posts in the next couple of days.

At the hearing on Nov. 4, we actually reached a settlement. The judge told the four of us -- two attorneys and my wife and I -- to go into a conference room and talk. Within half an hour we were done. This is what I had been asking for for months -- a mediation-type thing.

I gave in on almost everything; I get all the debt and she gets half my retirement. But I don't resent it; I just wanted it to be over.

Now, 9 days later, I'm still waiting to see the actual order that she and I have to sign. It's a done deal -- we went into the courtroom and agreed to it before the judge -- but it's not official until the order is signed. Then I give her more than $100,000! It's only money!

I hope the order comes through soon -- because on that day I can contact my lover and see if there is any chance of a relationship. I'm scared and worried about that day, but I also am ready for it to happen. Tired of waiting to know for sure. Though I am already pretty certain; I emailed her on the 4th and told her that my wife and I had reached a settlement and the divorce would be final soon. I wasn't really supposed to do that -- I was supposed to wait to talk with my lover after the divorce is final -- but I just couldn't help myself. I was excited and relieved that the marriage truly is finally over.

But ... I think if there were any chance with my lover, she would have responded -- "Glad to hear it, talk with you soon," or some such thing -- but she did not. Silence. Which speaks volumes. But I shouldn't be "future-tripping" about this, as they say at the Keystone treatment center.

It's been 9 days and I don't feel any differently; I so want to talk with my lover, even if she shuts me down. If she says she never wants to see or talk to me again, I'll be really sad. And guilty for cheating on her. But I also will be able to move on. She's not the only woman in the world for me, though she's the one I most want.

One of my program friends says that I shouldn't just call her; I should email her and ask her to call me. Then she can do it in her own way and time. I am going to do that ... but I fear she won't call, that she might just email me saying it's over, or not respond at all. I really really would like to hear her voice again; I hope she'll offer me that grace.

Future-tripping again. And assuming. Maybe she's going to say she's still in love with me and she wants to get back together. That would be one of the happiest days of my life, right up with there with my marriage and the "births" of my children. (Two are adopted, which is why "births" is in quotes.)

Wow. I'm still future-tripping. Positive or negative, it's still future-tripping, and that's not living in the here and now. It's all going to happen, in God's time and God's way. I should just leave it at that, but I can't. I don't know how to stop speculating, worrying, wishing, praying, and hoping. Especially that. I am filled with ...

Hope

Divorce

I face a divorce hearing this afternoon. Nothing's going to happen -- we don't have a settlement, and she and I are not even allowed in the courtroom; it's just the lawyers talking to the judge for a few minutes. Yet my stomach is churning.

This would be so much easier if I still had my lover to talk to. She was so supportive. I will never ever understand why I cheated on her, too.

I miss her most after work; I would always call on the way home. I get out of work at about 10 p.m. some nights, and I still just automatically start taking my phone out, even seven weeks after our breakup. Then I remember: I have no one to call at this time of night. And it's no fault but my own. And I feel this tightness in my stomach and head as I put my phone away.

I used to pray for her forgiveness, but I doubt God (or she) is going to grant me that. Now I pray FOR HER every morning, for her to be healthy and to not be too injured by what I did to her. I don't think I deserve to pray for more. And then I pray (sometimes reluctantly) for God's will in my life, not my own. I know what I would will: For my lover to forgive me and for us to get back together and for it to be all wonderful. And ... there is the slimmest chance of that happening. Or maybe there's not and I just don't know it yet because I haven't talked to her.

I so want the divorce to be over. The main reason is that's when I can call my lover (per our agreement). It's so weird: I spent over 30 years with one woman, and nine months with the other, and it's the nine-month lover I think of constantly and want to get back together with. I guess I'm still infatuated. Or obsessed. or in lust. Or in love. Or all of the above. We sex addicts have a hard time differentiating any of that.

Today is going to be a lonely day: Working at home, going to the divorce hearing, then more work at home. And oh yeah, I also have to fire someone from the small business I own. That will be loads of fun. I'm definitely feeling sorry for myself.

I do have a local 12-step meeting tonight at 7. I can look forward to that. And I am going to "bookend" the divorce hearing: Call a 12-step buddy before and after. That will help with the emotions.

I doubt I'll feel much joy today. Of course, some people tell me that's a "choice." I wish I knew how to make that choice. I don't know how to "choose joy." I hope during this dark time that God teaches me that.

Hope

20 years (day 13)

Last night one of my buddies from the Keystone treatment center called; we talk about once a week (for the past two years). He told a story of attending a meeting at which a guy got a 20-year coin. Twenty years of sobriety! The guy told his story, and just hearing the tone of wonderment in my buddy's voice was an inspiration to me last night (which I really needed, since I face a divorce court hearing today).

The guy had ruined one marriage with his sex addiction (just as I have), and almost ruined a second. But one night the guy got drunk and confessed to his second wife and asked for help. And 20 years later, they are still together. Yet the guy says that after all this sobriety he still faces temptation every day. He lives and works in Manhattan, home to some of the most beautiful and best-dressed women in the world. The guy said he spends a lot of time staring at his shoe-tops as he walks around the city. And when he does look, he says a prayer for that woman. And when that's not enough, he gets to a meeting or makes a phone call to a friend in the program.

As they say in 12-step, "It's a simple program, but it's not easy!" One day at a time ... for 20 years!

That gives me ....

Hope

Spirituality (day 11)

Saturday at the Sexaholics Anonymous meeting, we read "The Spritual Basis for Addiction." It's my third time through the book, but there was a paragraph that brought me up short; I had not understood it correctly before!

The sentence I was familiar with says: "Some of us testify to having led a spiritual life while still practicing our wrongs."

Yep, that's me. What a hypocrite I have been! But I let that sentence keep me from reading the rest of the paragraph:

"Now we see that the spiritual realm encompasses both good and evil, and that regardless of our spiritual experiences -- real though they may have been -- what we were doing was neither good nor right."

In other words, I was not such a hypocrite; my spiritual experiences were REAL, even as I was leading a secret life of debauchery. The people I helped I really helped. The Holy Spirit that I felt I really felt. At the same time that I was doing things that were "neither good nor right."

This paragraph has become a comfort to me.

Hope

Tattoo (Day 10)

On Saturday I got my second tattoo. It's four letters on my thigh: PDCH.
That's the initials of the four women I have been in love with. I've been thinking about doing this for a while, and just decided to go for it.

It got me thinking about those four relationships: In all cases, the woman ended it. My marriage was sort of mutual; I was already on the way out, but she actually asked me to leave after finding out about my latest encounter with another woman. So I really didn't end any of those relationships, which confirms one of the characteristics of Sex and Love Addicts: "We stay enslaved to emotional dependency, romantic intrigue, or compulsive sexual activities." For me, it's the emotional dependency that is the strongest. Don't get me wrong, I do not act needy or dependent on my partner; in fact, I'm rather dominant. But the dependency is there in the sense that I do not feel fully complete without a partner. I know that's not healthy but it's the way I've been since I started dating as a teen.

My lover completed me so completely! I had never been with someone who fulfilled so many of my needs. Yet I cheated on her. Insanity.

The other characteristic of SLAA that truly matches me is related to emotional dependency: "We feel empty and incomplete when we are alone." That's me. I've been alone for six weeks now, and I think it's been the longest six weeks of my life. But I still have ....

Hope