And each episode of acting out our addiction brought with it additional shame. It got so bad that we finally decided that we couldn't get much lower -- more shameful -- so, what the hell, we acted out all the more. And we felt more and more shamed. And our lives became unmanageable. And the more we tried to manage our lives -- all by ourselves, not asking for or accepting any help -- the more unmanageable our lives became.
By whatever means -- an arrest, words from a friend, a seeming accident, a shove of some sort by our Higher Power -- we found ourselves in our first SCA meeting. Scared shitless! When the meeting began, everyone in that room identified as a SEXUAL COMPULSIVE. We did too, even though some of us had to look up the word compulsive in the dictionary when we got home. And we heard others sharing their stories. Shameful things for the most part -- shameful at least for those telling of them. Yet, no one put any of them down for the things they told about. No one shamed them for the shameful things they had done.
Then we too started telling our secrets; secrets which had been locked up for so long inside us because we didn't dare trust anyone with them. Maybe it was at the first meeting, maybe several meetings later. But the secrets started coming out little by little, piece by piece. And each time we shared one of our shameful secrets, we felt much lighter; the weight of our shame was actually being lifted off of us. We began to realize that we were beautiful human beings with an illness from which we were beginning to recover. We began to know what life is about, and how beautiful it is. We began to realize that we didn't have to hide behind our shame any longer.