Editor’s Note: The following shares were recorded at the 2024 virtual S.L.A.A. Annual Business Meeting during the Conference Journal Committee breakout sessions. These are the edited transcripts.
Mira
Hi everybody. It’s really lovely to be here. I love this. I love the Journal. I’m a fan girl. I just transferred my sex and love addiction over to the Journal. That’s OK, right?
One of the greatest gifts of sponsorship came when I first entered the program in 2017. I was completely broken, shaking, and at an all-time low. My therapist, who had been working with me for over a decade at that point, suggested that S.L.A.A. might be something worth exploring.
So when I joined S.L.A.A., I took a step forward with an amazing sponsor. Then, I kind of fell out of the program—I met someone, and I thought, I’m cured. Me and this guy are great. But we weren’t. The guy didn’t really love me or even like me. And yeah, I was just obsessed. Who knew?
So, I reached out to my sponsor, and she was really cold. She said, “Oh, I can’t believe I’m hearing from you.” She was sharp and distant and told me, “I’ve moved to Germany now. I don’t live in London anymore.”
I looked back through my messages and realized I had just completely dropped off—from speaking to her super regularly to absolute silence. I went back to the meetings, and luckily it was during lockdown, so I did 30 meetings in 30 days. I was fully immersed. I think I finally broke—it was like, This is it. Now I have to do it for real.
I had an amazing sponsor named Anna—yeah, let’s say her name was Anna. But I kept missing our scheduled calls. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot,” I’d say. And she would remind me, “Mira, I said 10:00 because I had a meeting.” I’d apologize again—“I’m so, so sorry”—but eventually, she had enough. She told me, “Mira, my time is really precious. I’m busy.” And I was like, “Yeah, yeah, OK, I’m so sorry.”
Then, I started going to lots of women’s meetings and was lucky enough to get a sponsor I had seen the first time around in S.L.A.A. I had always thought she was incredible—revelatory and kind. So when I got her as my sponsor, I was truly committed.
I remember walking down the street, calling her late. “Hey, I’m so sorry. I called you late. I was at this party, and I couldn’t leave…” She cut in and said, “You know what, Mira, I really love you, and I’m so happy to be on this journey with you. But I don’t think I can be your sponsor anymore. You’ve broken my boundaries three times, and I’m not taking care of myself if I’m taking care of you like this. Let’s be fellow travelers instead—I’m happy to outreach, we’re still friends, and we can still hang out. I just don’t want to be your sponsor.”
I was stunned. What? What’s happening? And then, it was like the scales fell from my eyes. I saw it—I felt it—from her side. Because she was kind. And the irony hit me: in my obsessive relationships, I had always needed to be the center, to be on the pedestal, to have constant attention. But when someone was offering me unconditional guidance, support, and love, I couldn’t see the value.
From that day on, I have never taken sponsorship lightly. I treasure my sponsor—I would probably take a bullet for her. Not that we’d ever find ourselves in that kind of situation, but you know. I appreciate her.
This might sound crazy, but my sponsor messaged me on a Tuesday afternoon. We normally speak at 8:30 AM on Wednesdays. She wrote, “Hey, Mira, I’m in the hospital with a heart attack. I just wanted to let you know—I might not be able to make our call tomorrow.”
She had a heart attack. She was stabilized. And yet, she thought, I better let my little sponsee know. And that, to me, was love. Unconditional love.
So, I asked myself, Why am I dating these men? Instead, I held on to the beautiful gratitude I had for my sponsors. Now, if I ever meet a special human, I will show up for them. I will be attentive. And if they can’t show up for me, I’ll gently say, “Hey, I really love you. It’s been great knowing you, but I need to step back.”
I have my own boundaries with my sponsees, and I hope to teach them—beautifully, with love—that if I need to step away, I will.
But yeah, thanks so much for letting me share.
Thanks.
— Mira
Dean
I’m Dean, grateful recovering love addict. I wanted to speak about sponsorship.
I recently became a sponsor after resisting it for a long time. Over the last two to three years, I went from having one sponsee to two, then three, then four. It’s like once you become a sponsor, the floodgates open, and suddenly, everyone wants you to be theirs—because sponsors are so hard to find in our fellowship. I saw the same dynamic when I was in CODA. I guess it’s just a fellowship-wide thing—not enough sponsors for the number of people who need them.
As someone who has been in this fellowship for a long time, I realized that when I shared in meetings, newcomers or those who hadn’t been in the program as long as I had would come up to me afterward and say, “I really liked what you shared.”
That’s when I realized—I had been in the meetings for a while, and people started seeing me as an “old-timer,” a resource, even a role model. I hadn’t necessarily signed up for that role, but others placed me in it anyway. So I decided I was going to step up and own it.
I wouldn’t always speak in meetings because I wanted to leave space for others to share, but I realized that people genuinely wanted to hear my experience, strength, and hope.
As a sponsor, I’ve noticed some challenges, especially with new sponsees. One of the most frustrating patterns is when my sponsee calls me the day after they’ve acted out. They’ll say, “I was thinking about doing this thing. I thought about calling you, but then I did it anyway. And now I regret it.”
And I think, Why didn’t you just call me last night when you were still thinking about it? We could have talked through it. Instead, they wait until the next day—after the fact—once shame and guilt have set in. So I tell them, “Next time, call me before.” But nope. They never do.
I’ve had a sponsee for two years, and he still doesn’t call me before he acts out. On the other hand, I have another sponsee who does—he’s better at it, let’s say. And that’s just the way it goes.
I guess it’s a common challenge. Sometimes, I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything or actually helping because my sponsee keeps acting out, repeating the same patterns over and over. It can be frustrating as a sponsor. But then I surrender. I let it go.
— Dean
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