I wept nearly every day in my first year in recovery. What a contrast with the previous 25 years, when I acted out sexually whenever I felt sad. In doing so, I had stuffed so much grief inside me that when the dam broke, I thought the flood would never end. There was a lot of pain down there. All those losses that I had never grieved: the death of my father when I was a teenager; many lost loves; two broken marriages; separation from my children; two failed careers; hard-won fame and fortune gone. There was a world of sadness here that I had never expressed naturally. I had just “moved on” to the next career or relationship, until one day I was 12th-stepped.
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