I never thought I would sit in a room full of strangers and say the words, ‘I am a sex addict’

I didn’t know my problem even had a name – all I knew was that I couldn’t control my sexual behaviour. For me, sex had become all-consuming; a way of life. I returned to the same behaviours over and over despite the consequences (to me and to my family) becoming worse and worse.

My behaviour certainly became more severe over time. Problems I have also heard others talk about, such as: out-of-control sexual behaviours, high levels of promiscuity, compulsive masturbation, excessive use of both legal and illegal internet pornography, use of chat rooms and dating sites, multiple anonymous sexual encounters, exhibitionism, sex work... and much more.

Sex addiction is a shame-based condition. Most sex addicts use the powerful stimulus of sex to escape the toxic feelings experienced from shame; and in that way, sex addiction isn’t dissimilar to other addictions. What sex addicts do is use sex in the same way that others use alcohol or drugs, gambling or overeating. We do it to survive the intolerable. We get high on it; to enter almost trance-like states or stasis, where we can block out our difficult feelings.

When I went to a sex addiction recovery group for the first time, I discovered that my sex addiction is a disease. It helped me enormously to know that it was an illness that had been affecting my mind, body and spirit; that it wasn’t my fault.

Discovering I wasn’t alone was a liberating experience for me. It’s a great comfort and relief to know that the fellowship of recovering sex addicts exist and that we have somewhere to turn when things are tough. I never thought I would sit in a room full of strangers and say the words, “I am a sex addict” – but then others did, and I listened. And, as they shared their own experiences and talked about how progressive this disease can be, I knew I was in the right place.

At the meetings I went to, run by other members, I gradually emerged from my shame, secrecy and fear and became part of a community who share one common goal: of freedom from sexual compulsion. One of the big problems for all addicts is isolation. In joining a group of people who were like me, I had begun to move away from isolation into fellowship – and then, eventually, into recovery.

Paradoxically, my first meeting was a freeing experience – I met others like me and heard their stories. It didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t identify with everyone’s behaviour. But it was clear we all had a common problem. I was amazed to find other people sharing the same challenges around sex addiction that I had.

There are no professional outside facilitators, but I witnessed people talk honestly and openly about their own issues and felt I could speak candidly about myself. It was nice to know we were meeting as equals; one sex addict helping another. The goal? To achieve sexual sobriety and begin to practice a new way of life.

Because of the sensitive nature of sexual addiction and society’s views on it, the meetings I go to regularly now are “closed” – they are only for those wishing to stop addictive sexual behaviour. I feel safer knowing that the practice of anonymity and confidentiality is so respected. It’s a relief. I only have to use my first name and anything I say is confidential.

Early on, I got a temporary sponsor – a fellow traveller in the fellowship – who had been abstinent from addictive sexual behaviour for some time and who was able to guide me through what they’d learned. The programme I went to (SAA, though others are available) is based on the 12 steps and 12 traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Although the 12 steps use the word “God” to describe a higher power or a spiritual way of life, the fellowship itself isn’t affiliated with any one religion, creed or dogma. It simply offers a spiritual solution without any specific set of beliefs and practices.

I’d wondered how I would define the specific behaviours I wanted to stay clear of. In AA, it seems clear: people just want to stop drinking. So how do you stop yourself having sex?

After all, as human beings we need to eat and we arguably “need” to be sexual – so instead, I learned to define what was “unhealthy” versus “healthy” sexual behaviour for me, as an individual. I found it pretty straightforward to isolate the things I kept doing repetitively. I knew what was at risk from my behaviours: my health, my work, my freedom, my relationships – even my life. Yet it still feels like a paradox that these severe negative consequences were not enough to help stop me doing it on my own.

What I learned was that sex addicts come from all walks of life: young and old, gay, straight, bisexual or asexual, cis, non-binary or transgender – and so many other combinations. We come from all ethnic and religious backgrounds.

Some of us have experienced emotional, physical or sexual abuse while growing up. Others grew up in families where addictions already flourished: like co-dependency, alcoholism, eating disorders, workaholism and sex addiction itself.

We aren’t bad, nor irredeemable. Many of us struggle with poor self image. The media and society sometimes view excessive sexual behaviour as warped and perverted, whereas the reality is that sex addiction is a long-term condition that needs managing.

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While most people might think sex addiction is about sex, it’s not. It’s about deep feelings of unworthiness and shame. It is about poor attachment experiences in childhood, about rejection and abandonment. It is about our inability to use the healthy methods of self-soothing that others have learnt when faced with distress and negative emotional experiences.

At the meetings I go to, I listen respectfully to what others say and then share my own experiences. I’m learning not to judge people, or to tell anyone what to do or fix someone else’s problems. And I am now starting to have the healthy and enjoyable life that I never had when I was “acting out”. I keep in touch with friends and other fellows, I volunteer, follow my passions and live in my values.

Learning I have a sex addiction – and being able to say it out loud, and then seek help – really has changed my life: for the better.