Chapter 8: Mount Up

I approach the wooden door of the main hall of the building, and peek in. The inside ambience is dimmed, with the blinds drawn to keep the heat out, but it's still hot. I'm not feeling too well as it is, let alone sit in a place where the air conditioner is not working. The hall is filled with people sitting around the tables. They must be doing some group work typa cooperation shit today, not the usual talkie talk. No way I'm involving myself in a close interaction with four other people doing some role bloody play, or god forbid, some situational brainstorming. I would leave myself, but before I could turn, I get tossed out by Gina.

She drags me all the way out to the hall, "I told you to stay away from here! This my place! Don't need some world class nasty mind making waves!"

"Ah, you gonna tell me that I'm repulsive, and I don't deserve to live?" I join in with the slaging, cause I'm good at it, "we're similar sweetie, so whatever you say about me, same goes for you. Besides, who wants to be in the same room as you are? I'm leaving darling, don't worry," I snigger and start down the corridor.

She catches up with me in a few paces, "wait."

"What, Gina?" I turn angrily.

"Uh…did you…did you hear about him?"

She means "our" son, "James sent me a few pictures of him last week."

"And? How is he?"

"I don't know. The envelope sits unopened on my table. I didn't have the…"

"It would've hurt too much to see him. I know, but…I still need to know he's ok Christian. Would you mind posting the pictures to me?"

"I don't know where you live. Again. Remember?"

"Wait. I'll write it down. Just a second," she runs back into the room and she walks back scribbling.

"How you've been?" I soften up. Although it's all her fault we lost Wilbur, I share her pain.

"A couple of month clean…not much, but…" She hands me a bit of paper with her address on it, "how…you've been?"

We pause, I sigh, "I don't really try coming clean."

"I don't believe that Christian. What are you doing here?"

I want to confess, finally spill out my guts to someone who would at least hazily understand, but I say something else instead, "did you know that the sexually addict body releases such powerful chemicals that detox should be considered the same way it is for heroine and cocaine addicts?"

She understand nevertheless, that I reached a certain point in my mislaid journey where I feel genuinely lost. She studies me for one long minute, "it feels like that sometimes. But there are techniques."

I don't say anything, but lean to the wall. If just once in this life she would do something that's helpful for me…it's hot and I start to feel sick again.

"Come on, you really don't wanna hear this. Definitely not from me. So why don't you take that corrupt mug of yours to some other meeting as we agreed? Can't believe you almost conned me again into talking to you!"

"Fine. I'm really not feeling well enough to fight with you anyhow," I really need to rush before I throw up, but I only manage to get to the stairs. She must've heard that. Right enough, there she comes staring at my mess for a second, "great. I'm the person in charge of the meeting, I'll have to clean up. What's wrong with you anyway? You still feeling sick?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Uhm," she guides me to a side room, leaves me and comes back with a bottle of water, "here. Wash your mouth."

"Thanks."

"Don't tell me you're crying." she says while I'm trying my best not to, "look, I can't do whatever you want me to do, cause the meeting is still on. I'll recommend a sponsor if you want."

"You're the perfect sponsor, cause we hate each other. There's no chance we would get it on. How many times we did it in a year? Twice? Three times?"

She hardens her lips, "no. But ask me anything just now."

"When you do succeed, how do you do it?"

She sits down and leans back, "it's a long story Christian…you never wanted to hear it before."

"Don't people get to a point where they really have to admit to the problem?"

"Something happened?"

"I lost Sean's friendship because of this."

"I'm sorry…so you wanna know how? When I get to that place where lust begins to flare up, there are a couple things I look at. When I find myself moving in this direction, I have usually convinced myself that I now have some kind of power over lust. I equate it to the alcoholic who now thinks he can drink like a gentleman. This is the insanity of my disease trying to convince me that what used to be dangerous, is now safe. For me, the solution has been to get together with a sponsor, and start the
steps formally from step one, connect with my current helplessness and

unmanageability. I don't have to lust. Sometimes I want to, but I don't have to. And I'm not fighting it. You have to realise you have a choice."

"What choice if you are powerless?"

"I am far from saying I'm lust-free. But my attitude toward lust has changed. Lust used to be my best friend. Now I know that lust is not my friend at all. It wants to kill me. It certainly wants to separate me from God. I don't want it anymore! And one temptation at a time, I don't have to entertain it."

"I hear you, but how?"

"Well, yeah, how. Journey's long. The world is such a screwed up place, it's sad.

Look, you really need your own sponsor, one that is more successful than me."

"Right."

"You okay? To go I mean."

My head shots up, "fine," I lie, sniffing before searching for a way out without totally humiliating myself in front of her.

"You'll be fine," she nods, "can I have that piece of paper back? I'll write my friend's number on it. I know it by heart, he's my sponsor too. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

"I'll be fine," I answer quietly, take the paper and totter out. There. I really made the first step this time.

Tbc