Sunday, May 29, 2011

REACHING FOR RECOVERY (Putting Down the Drink) Part 7

I had studied classical piano through my teens. My piano mentor's memorial service had been scheduled at my hometown church three days after having become sober. I really wanted to attend, but I was feeling very insecure about going. I was still going through withdrawal from alcohol and I was very shaky - emotionally and physically.

That Saturday morning, I left home for a twelve-step meeting, not knowing if I had the courage to go to that service. When I turned on the ignition of my car, the radio station was broadcasting the very Mozart piano sonata I had played for my teacher on my last visit to her. That spiritual connection gave me the strength to attend; but, not before I attended yet another AA meeting in my hometown just prior to theservice.

I sat with my mother during the service. At one point in the service, I called out from the congregation to the pastor, asking if it would be possible to say a few words. I was later given that opportunity.

I approached the pulpit and I spoke of my spiritual connection to my teacher when I had heard that Mozart sonata on the radio that morning. I spoke of how it gave me the strength to attend even though I felt like I was a “basket case.” I also mentioned that I was in early recovery in a twelve-step program. That action opened the door to an important new friendship for me with the very man of whom I had been terrified as a child, thinking he was gay.

That man was my piano mentor's intimate friend. He guessed who I was when I had gotten up to speak. He'd known me since I'd been ten. The seeming coincidence was that he'd recently found out I was gay from another kindred spirit. That person was the elderly gay man who happened to be sitting with Mom and me. He hadn't heard anything about me since the time I got married and he hadn't seen me since I was a teen. Aside from both of us having studied under our mentor, we now had two other common bonds. We were both gay and he, too, was a recovering alcoholic.

After the service, he sought me out and he invited me to a reception he was holding in his home. He also introduced me to a lesbian friend of his who happened to have been one of my junior high school teachers. That night, he took us both to the symphony. Then I invited them back to my disheveled home for a gourmet dinner, serving it around two in the morning! My life was still unmanageable, but I was starting to experience some very spiritual connections. God was about to do for me what I could not do for myself.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Saturday, May 28, 2011


I let go of my drinking behaviors using AA meetings as a substitute, going to as many as four meetings on some days. I was a quick study and had no problem embracing the first three steps when I made that daily decision to turn my will over to my Higher Power. God was indeed good to me, relieving me of the compulsion to drink within the first week.

The only problem was, I turned to my primary form of medication – sex - with a vengeance. After leaving my last AA meeting of the day at 11 PM, I was off on the cruising circuit. I would drive to those parks or pornographic bookstores where I would lose both myself and lose sleep as I acted out my pain through sexual oblivion, usually with multiple partners. Still, that did not fill up the empty hole of need that only God could fill.

Even so, I followed the suggestions that were offered by the program as if my life depended upon it. I truly believed that I would not have lived out the year had I continued my final binge with alcohol. Normally, same-sex sponsors are recommended; however, I heard a wise person say, “when picking a sponsor, one should consider that there are actually six sexes.” As a gay man, this made sense to me. Consequently, I eventually picked an older lesbian whose long-term sobriety I admired to be my sponsor.

In the meantime, I had asked another gay man to serve as temporary sponsor. I felt safe with him. His gentle manner reminded me so much of my conception of Jesus. As it turned out, I used them both as sponsors, calling on them along with others in the program every day. This became my lifeline to sanity and there was nothing I wanted more than that!

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Reaching for Recovery (Putting Down the Drink) Part 5

The story of how I finally accepted my alcohol problem was a spiritual one. I had finally realized I had a problem with alcohol once my partner left me. I stopped drinking cold turkey for a long weekend during which he had come back to visit. What I hadn't realized was that I would need help in order to stay sober.

After my partner left, I went to the refrigerator to get some leftovers to warm up. I had promised myself that I wouldn't drink, but I saw a single Budweiser bottle and I thought to myself that one beer wouldn't hurt. That beer took the edge off. That's when I spotted the leftover bottle of gin which I thought I might as well drink as long as I was quitting booze.

The thing is, I wanted more and I started to feel desperate. I didn't think I had any other alcohol in the house. Then I remembered a bottle of Tequila that someone had had the nerve to give us after a trip to Mexico. I hated Tequila, but I thought it might be tasty mixed with Lemonade; so I proceeded to drink the entire contents.

As I was drinking, I started to become melancholy; and, for some reason, I decided to call my partner's former lover who was then living in Atlanta. He was very patient and kind as I proceeded with a drunken apology for having stolen his lover some eight years ago. He told me that he forgave me and that I didn't need to beat myself up. I couldn't understand what he was talking about, but the tone of his voice and his forgiving attitude was very soothing to me.

Perhaps I was aware that he was in recovery from alcohol abuse, though it didn't enter my conscious mind at that point; however, some time later in the conversation, he asked me if I wanted help. Instead of angrily reacting with an “F---You!” I cried out, “Yes!” as I broke into sobs.

Then, somehow, all the way from Atlanta, this dear man got help to me from a local Alcoholics Anonymous clubhouse. Sometime before midnight, two fellows from AA showed up on my doorstep. They took me, wearing my leftover food on my sweater, to the clubhouse where several other members had stayed long after the last meeting of the day to help this drunk.

I don't remember what they said to me, but I do remember the kindness they demonstrated as they talked with me over coffee. I also realized that they knew the kind of personal hell I'd been going through and they held out the hope I desperately needed. I was given a schedule of AA meetings and I was driven home. The next morning I awoke with a hangover and called into work requesting a sick day. Then I went back to that same clubhouse at 7AM for my first AA meeting.

God was with me through that day - April 6, 1988. I ran into an old friend who came home with me and showed me the affection I desperately needed at that point. I stopped by my parents' home for a visit. They had been very concerned since I'd called them the previous night, in my drunken state, to tell them I was being taken to Alcoholics Anonymous. I went from their home to a session with my psychotherapist. Then I followed that up with my first gay AA meeting. There was so much love there among those courageous people who held out more hope for me. I realized I was finally home.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Celebrate Diversity - Author Davis Auhourd'hui

CELEBRATE DIVERSITY- Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Posted on May 20, 2011 by joseph c. knudson

This is a guest post from a good friend of mine who is extremely talented.  Please enjoy the article and check out his sites listed here: - Author Davis Aujourd'hui and his "Sister Mary Olga" Book Series - Author Davis Aujourd'hui Blog


J.C. Knudson, Author of "Living the Difference"

Celebrating Diversity

Have you ever felt as if you were the only person like yourself in the whole world? Guess what? You are. Each of you is a unique expression of the human experience. Your task is to embrace all that you are and to celebrate yourself.

Perhaps you’re in a minority group. You might be African-American, Asian, Latino, or gay. Perhaps you just feel as if you were a nerd. Some of the most famous people in history felt that way. They didn’t let that stop them from becoming all that they could be.

Look at Albert Einstein. He didn’t begin to talk until he was four years old. Yet he went on to become the father of atomic science. He met life’s challenges on life’s terms and became one of the most famous scientists in history.

Look at Maya Angelou. She was another person who didn’t talk for many years during a childhood as an abused African-American girl. Yet she went on to become one of our nation’s most prominent poets. She also served as an inspiration to another African-American girl who had been abused as a child. That was Oprah Winfrey. She became our most celebrated television talk show host and she served to inspire countless others whether of not they may have lived lives of oppression.

Each of you possess your own unique gifts which can serve to inspire others. The challenge is to embrace yourself so that you may discover what you have to offer. Surround yourself with people who affirm you and inspire you. That is the key to self-acceptance.

I have had my own challenges with self-acceptance. I didn’t want to be gay, but I eventually learned that it was a good thing. Along the way, I struggled with things like alcoholism, clinical depression, and sexual addiction.

I worked hard at becoming a champion and I am now a published author of a series of hilarious satires. I have learned to embrace things in my past that didn’t seem funny. I have made lemonade out of lemons as I have learned how to laugh at myself. In so doing, I have created a series of books that have made my readers laugh out loud.

It takes all kinds to make the world go around. Wouldn’t it be boring if that was not the case! I ask you to celebrate yourselves and to celebrate diversity. You can each make an individual difference for the betterment of life. Go for your joy!

Author Davis Aujourd'hui's Book Series:

"The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude" (Book 1)
"Babes in Bucksnort" (Book 2)

Both are available in Paperback and Kindle Format. Kindle Format is just $3.99


Saturday, May 21, 2011


I'm not going to entertain or bore you with a long drunkalogue. As in the case of my character, Sister Mary Olga, my drinking escapades may seem to have been outrageously funny. The truth is that there was nothing funny about drinking or the effect it was having upon my life. It was also a way that I continued to escape dealing with my feelings and life's problems.

Here are some of the things that happened before I saw the light of a better way of life: I put myself and others at continuing risk as I drove in escalating drunken states. I would occasionally act out in anger at my partner when I was drunk. One time I hit him before passing out. The next morning I awoke and couldn't raise my arm out of bed. I had broken my wrist when I had hit him on his knee.

I contracted a serious and life-threatening venereal disease when I went out to a bar, got drunk, and picked up a stranger on the night of my maternal grandfather's funeral. The result was that I ended up in the hospital for a week. Fortunately I had not contracted HIV/AIDS as the doctors had suspected.

I picked up another stranger at a bar who turned out to be seriously mentally ill. He subsequently threatened to burn our house down and to kill me and my partner. The bottom line was that my quality of life became seriously compromised as it became more and more unmanageable.

After years of being able to stop drinking for periods of time, I finally went on a four month binge that was unlike anything or any binge I had experienced before. I began to drink to excess on a daily basis. It was not unusual for me to come home from work for lunch and have a few beers before returning. I would go to happy hour every day and drink until late in the evening.

Beer had become my drug of choice. I somehow felt that I could control my drunkenness better with beer than with alcohol – another practice of denial – The problem was that I was now drinking up to a case of beer per day. I had indeed become powerless over alcohol. I would not see the light until my partner of eight years left me. He was too frightened to witness what was happening to me to continue to live with me.

What I would later come to understand was that I had always been drinking to medicate a bipolar disorder. I'd never experienced a mania while I was drinking. When I was in an “up state,” I would drink like a fish. When I was depressed, I would stop drinking. I'm certain I would have had a brilliant mania during my final binge had I not been drinking. My experiences with mania were yet to come. I will discuss them in an upcoming article on recovery from mental illness.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Friday, May 20, 2011


Coming out as a gay man was a mixed blessing as far as my drinking went. Once I became a bit more comfortable with my sexuality, I began to go out to gay bars. That fueled both my alcohol abuse and my sexual addiction. In the beginning, I would limit myself to three beers. That would certainly change over time!

I drove drunk for the first time when I was nineteen. That behavior persisted for the next fourteen years. I always thought that I could handle it. Fortunately I never experienced any serious repercussions for myself or any others; however, I came close to having a bad accident on two occasions and I was once stopped by the police.

I failed the sobriety tests, but I was released from jail after a low breathalizer test score. I'd only had a few beers. The truth of the matter was that I was high as a kite! There were no tests for marijuana use in those days.

Even though I had become familiar with the experience of passing out, I didn't realize that I had black outs until after the eve of my wedding. My best man was mixing potent gin and tonics which was my drink of choice at that time. I wasn't about to complain. They were absolutely delicious!

The last thing I remembered was that I had been swinging from the shower rod in the hotel bathroom on the ninght of my bachelor party. I fell into a tub filled with ice water and beer. When I got back from my honeymoon, I found out what had happened after my last memory. I had come out to my sister, one of my ushers (a college roommate), and a childhood girlfriend. Talk about comedy and insanity! The underlying truth is that it was a very sad situation. Even so, it helps to be able to laugh about these things. All of this will be part of my coming out story, to be told in a future article.

I didn't always drink every day, though I would almost always have a beer. By the time, I was twenty-five, it would invariably be three or more beers per day. After injuring my back, I began to take prescription painkillers. When I told the doctor that they worked best when I drank them with a six pack of beer, he suggested I try to stop drinking for six weeks. Apparently that was his idea of a test as to whether or not I had an alcohol problem.

It didn't turn out to be a problem. I stopped for those six weeks. Of course, it helped that he doubled the dosage of the painkillers so that I wouldn't fee the need to drink as well. This would become the start of yet another addiction.

Alcoholism and sexual addiction went hand in hand during the years I spent more and more time in the bars. Happy hour had become a regular routine. It had also become regular for me to pick up someone with whom to have a sexual tryst at the same time. Happy hours became longer and longer as the years progressed. In the meantime, weekends were also often given over to nights out at the bars.

Fortunately I did have some sober friends so I had other social outlets as well. On those occasions I would moderate my drinking. Of course, that may have served to fuel my denial that I didn't have a problem. It would take many years of alcohol abuse before I was able to overcome that denial. I would become one of the lucky ones. I would achieve sobriety at a young age – thirty-three. That would be the beginning of my journey into recovery from addiction. There would be much craziness to come before I reached that part of my life's journey.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

REACHING FOR RECOVERY (Putting Down The Drink) Part 2

I had my first cigarette when I was nine. I hated it! I had my second one when I was fifteen. It didn't taste much better, but it helped me feel better about a troubling circumstance at the time. I would remember that at a later point. I began smoking in earnest when an elderly aunt died in my arms at the time I was seventeen.

I also had my first drink when I was fifteen. It was a strong one and I got drunk. My whole personality suddenly changed. It felt wonderful to be free of inhibitions! I would later remember that too.

On isolated occasions, I would drink in secret until I could legally do so at the age of eighteen. That was also when I discovered how wonderfully freeing marijuana could be. By then I was addicted to cigarettes, though I couldn't admit to that. I figured I could quit at any time – famous last words! Alcohol was a wonderful compliment to these other now established addictions.

I felt deliciously naughty and I also began to feel as if I was more a part of the crowd. Even though I still felt insecure on the inside, I came out of my shell when I was engaged in my addictions. Unfortunately I had no real idea about who I was. Truth be told, I had simply forgotten. I mistook the the unreal feelings of freedom that my powerful new addictions could induce for the freedom of unspoiled childhood innocence .

I almost invariably became drunk whenever I had alcohol. I also became drunk quickly. That would change over time as I began to develop more and more of a tolerance for alcohol. That would also take me a long time. Such is not the case for many fledgling alcoholics. As for me, as is the case for most of us, I was medicating a mood disorder that stemmed from an inability to get in touch with feelings. It also came from an inability to accept life on life's terms.

By the time I was in college, my addictions were well-established. Even though I was a serious student during my first two years, I would party every weekend. Of course, an occasional joint or drink on a weekday night was not out of the question!

By my senior year, I relied on my academic laurels to carry me through. Fortunately I still earned excellent grades, though I was now engaging in my addictions on a regular basis. Even so, it would be years before I might suspect that I had a problem with alcohol. Then I would simply deny it until I finally reached a point where I realized I was totally powerless; that would come much later.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Monday, May 16, 2011

What Every Caregiver Must Know - By Author Davis Aujourd hui

Life is a continual process of change. As you grow into your middle years, there comes a time when there may be a role reversal with your parents. As a young child, they were your caregiver. Now, it may become the time when you will be theirs.

As a retired social worker, I have witnessed this countless times. I am also at an age when my own parents have become elderly. This may well be a challenge for me in my future. If this time has arrived for you, you are already dealing with the challenge.

You should consider the least restrictive form of help. You will want to keep them as independent as possible. Ideally, this would mean to keep them in their own home for as long as you are able to keep them safe.

Supportive services can be brought into their home if that is affordable. There are a number of resources available in every community: social service agencies, home health aides, independent cleaning people, visiting nurses, etc. If you are unable to help with things like medical transportation and shopping, there may be private alternatives for this as well.

There are some simple things that you can do. These would include things like pre-pouring their medications and assisting them with their finances. Try to always help them make their own decisions if they are able to do so. No one appreciates interference.

The time may come when they will need more support. Assisted living programs are an excellent way for them to maintain a degree of independence. This may not be financially feasible for many. Now, the decision is whether or not you are able to care for them in your own home.

This is a big decision. Consider it carefully and do not allow guilt to cause you to do something with which you are uncomfortable. Remember, it is of the utmost importance that you take care of yourself too. It will become a dramatic change to your lifestyle. It will involve sacrifices that will hopefully come from a loving place rather than a sense of obligation.

If that time has already come for you, you will appreciate what I have been saying. Allow your parents to do what they can for themselves. Nobody wants to be treated like a child. All adults are worthy of respect. Most importantly, you will want to offer love.

In order to do this, it is imperative that you be willing to reach out for help. You do not want to bear the entire burden. Again, you can consider bringing in services

Here are some tips you may find helpful:

• Ask a friend or neighbor to come to visit so that you are able to do things for yourself. You will be of no good to your parents if you are making sacrifices that interfere with your ability to take care of yourself.

• Take time out so that you can pursue your own interests. Otherwise, you may become consumed with resentment. Do not allow this to happen. Just remember that you are only human. Just as your parents have needs, so do you. There may come a day when you will realize that you can no longer bear the burden of providing care. That is not your fault. It is a reality that many of you will come to face as your parents’ needs become all-consuming. This will become the time that you will need to consider nursing home placement. Do not allow guilt to consume you. Difficult as it may be, talk it over with your parents. Let them know that you love them, but that they need more help than you are able to provide.

• If you have to place your parents, take time so that you can find a nursing home that is the best fit. Do your research carefully. All nursing homes are rated. Some of them are not fit for any human being. Interview and tour the homes. Talk with residents to see how they like the homes.

• Do not put yourself into a place where you must rush to make a decision. The best-rated homes will take the longest amount of time whereby a placement can be achieved. Don’t wait until you are desperate. Be realistic and plan ahead.

• Once a placement has been achieved, be sure to make frequent visits. This will serve two primary purposes. Naturally, your parents will need and appreciate your love and support. It will also let the staff at the home know that you are involved. Some nursing homes can be neglectful of residents’ needs if family is not a presence.

• No matter what your situation is, affirm for yourself that you have done the best you have been able to do. Have no regrets. This will only lead to guilt. Just remember to love yourself as well as your parents.

About the author:

Davis Aujourd’hui is the creator of the highly-rated and hilarious Sister Mary Olga Fortitude – a series of nine books centered on religious and social satire. He is a retired social worker, having worked for Adult Protective Services in New York. He said it enabled him to become a student of the human condition. While doing so, he developed the characters in his books in order to entertain a colleague of his using the gift of humor. He says being socially-minded and spiritual are is the most important ingredients for him to maintain a happy and successful life. He lives in Upstate New York.

The Funniest satire Series of the Deacde
Author Davis Aujourd'hui

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The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude

Babes in Bucksnort

Saturday, May 14, 2011


As is the case with most of us, I came from a dysfunctional family. It's just that my family didn't happen to be a horror story. True, my mother had challenges with mental illness. Her anxiety and depression became a part of my own later life experience. For me, it was probably a case of both nature and nurture. Who truly knows?

The larger problem is that my family didn't know how to appropriately express or deal with feelings. When Mom was in a difficult place within herself, she would act out by crying or getting angry. On the other hand, my dad was very reserved. If he was angry, he would do something like go out to the woodpile and chop wood. The only time I experienced his anger was once in a blue moon when I would receive a spanking. That stopped when I was thirteen and fought him back.

I was often told that I shouldn't feel certain ways. That led me to believe that certain feelings were bad. As time went on, I became more and more disconnected from my feelings. That was certainly not the case after my favorite grandmother died when I was nine. I was grief-stricken. That only led me to medicate through my first addiction – my secret shame.

The problem was that I basically had to deal with my grief alone. Perhaps it was too overwhelming for my mother. My father just didn't seem to know how to handle sadness at all. In fact, I don't remember him ever appearing sad. I also never witnessed him crying until he came to visit me in alcohol rehab when I was then thirty-three.

My childhood story involved trauma, bullying, and internalized homophobia. I also thought that I needed to earn love through my accomplishments. The bottom line was that I was very insecure and I had low self-esteem. My entire childhood experience had become a breeding ground for what would become multiple addictions for me as an adult.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Thursday, May 12, 2011


I bought a new house, fell in love with someone young enough to be my son, and I moved at a time when I was becoming physically and mentally ill. I took a long weekend off from work in order to move. I never returned to work again. That was another chapter in my life that closed as chaos reigned supreme within my shattered life.

I came to believe that I was the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. My life revolved around prayer and spirituality. That's when the most amazing things began to happen.

On rainy or cloudy days, I would always be surrounded by a beam of sunshine. Music on the radio spoke directly to whatever I was experiencing. All I would need to do would be to think of someone. Not a minute later, the telephone would ring and that person would be on the other end of the line.

While all of this was spiritually comforting, my mental state was precarious and my new home was a mess. People I had known for years abandoned me. I was scared and I was becoming more physically ill. I would suffer multiple falls and I fractured bones all over my body. I became unable to walk.

When I wasn't experiencing calm, I became very reactive and angry. I would take that anger out on the people closest to me – the ones who were taking care of me. They understandably couldn't understand what was happening to me. My prayer rituals and my new reincarnational beliefs baffled them. They understandably thought I was crazy.

It's true that I was at many points. Yet, much of the time, I was incredibly at peace. God seemed to meet every need even when I ran out of money. Just when there weren't resources to buy food or pay my bills, money came from unexpected sources. One form of disability income after another presented itself just as my needs became more intense. My Higher Power never gave me any more than I could handle. He took care of me each step of the way.

It is daunting to try to paint a picture of the insanity that was present in my life. I was riding on a high that could disintegrate into a fathomless bottom of despair and paranoia. My life was incredibly unmanageable. Yet, I remained sexually sober.

Thanks to new medicines, I slowly pulled away from insanity. That's when I decided to write my autobiography. I would apply myself to the task with a passion. I wrote the five hundred page tome in less than six months. By then, I was totally well. I had exorcised the demons that had haunted me for so many years.

Since I was now on a disability retirement and finished writing my memoirs, I thirsted for something to fulfill me. That's when I remembered characters I had developed in order to entertain a former colleague of mine. I decided to write a book about Sister Mary Olga Fortitude and the zany characters of Bucksnort, Wisconsin.

I wrote The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude in about six weeks. That was soon followed up by Babes in Bucksnort. One book led to another. Within the course of the next three years, I had completed eleven books in the series. I haven't run out of ideas yet. The beautiful thing is that my life has stabilized even though I have recently come out of a devastating relapse with my sexual addiction.

Fortunately, I am once again on the path of recovery. Unfortunately, I have decided to put off publishing my memoirs. They are extremely intimate and I also want to put together a substantial period of sexual sobriety before I consider publishing them. I want to be able to inspire hope for other addicts who might want to see that recovery is possible. Someday, I may be ready to take that step. In the meantime, I am enjoying my life and my creative endeavors.

I hope that you will consider reading my series of hilarious books which has healed me through the gift of laughter. I can guarantee that it will tickle your funny bones. The reviews have been great.

I also hope, for those who are suffering from mental illness or sexual addiction, that they will become aware that help and recovery is possible. If I can do it, anyone can!

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Monday, May 9, 2011


The strangest things began to happen. As I was driving, I felt like Snow White. The birds would fly in the direction that they seemed to want me to go. One day, the birds took me to a little hamlet called Cherry Valley. There, I came upon an old parsonage that was up for sale. I decided that I would leave my life behind and buy it, turning it into a bed and breakfast inn. That's when things became truly strange.

When I arrived, a priest seemed to float down the street as he approached me. Then he said, “I'm glad you've finally arrived!” With that said, he gave me a kiss and slid his tongue down my throat. By that time, nothing struck me as unusual. Life was unfolding in the most peculiar ways.

I kept encountering that priest as I traveled around the nearby countryside. Eventually, he walked by the parsonage again and I asked him if he thought the house was holy. He gave me an odd look and I responded by saying, “Beware of wolves in sheep's clothing.” He scampered back up the street like a scared bunny rabbit.

I had reason to be concerned about the house. One of the rooms gave off the strangest vibrations. On subsequent visits, items within the abandoned house continued to be moved around throughout the rooms. I later learned from the town waitress that the man who had previously lived there practiced black magic and performed sacrifices there. Now, I was scared.

Fortunately, the purchase offer was not accepted. As I came out of mania, a tremendous depression kicked in. This happened around the same time that my only sister was pronounced terminally ill. The next year would become an extreme challenge. I became grateful when I was finally diagnosed with a bipolar disorder. Medicine was prescribed that finally brought me into a place of more stability.

Sadly, my sister passed away and I tried to carry on the best I could. I numbed myself with my sexual addiction and continued to practice that behavior for another twelve years. That's when I was finally confronted by my partner who had been previously unaware that the addiction was still thriving. He gave me an ultimatum – either go to couple's therapy with him or he would leave me after twenty-two years.

When we got to therapy, I realized that I needed to work on the sexual addiction. I subsequently returned to Sex Addicts Anonymous where I was able to achieve a measure of sexual sobriety. Unfortunately, the addiction had taken a toll on the relationship. What's more, I began to destabilize as I was headed into another mania. I was the one who ended the relationship and began to make multiple major life changes. This would only invite a mania that made the last one pale in comparison.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Friday, May 6, 2011


Here it comes again – Mother's Day. So you're ready to head for the store to buy a card or a gift. Why not give the gift that's free. Give your mother your time and let her know you love her.

This may not be an easy task for everyone. Not all of us came from loving backgrounds. If this was the case for you, it was probably also the case for your mother as a child.

The thing to remember is that we all have done the best we could have done with whatever has come our way. Your mother has done the same thing too. Remember, there are no blueprints for parenting. It's all a matter of learning on the job. Some mothers are just slow learners. They are not to be blamed.

You're an adult now. It's time to grow up. That may mean facing some of your own demons. The important thing to remember is to face the past with honesty, to forgive, and to let go.

You may need to talk to someone, including a professional, in order to discharge past pain. It's also important to remember all of those loving qualities that your mother possesses. Remember the good times that you have had.

Try to put your life into a balanced perspective. Life is more good than not. Allow the healing to flow into your life. The beautiful thing is that you can make it all good if you live in the present and commit to it being so.

The present moment is all you have and here it comes. The question is what you can do to make it a memorable one? Cards and flowers are nice, but they don't compare with a more personal connection. Make a phone call. Better yet, spend the day with her. Relive the happy times. Let her know you love her. The gift you give to her will multiply. It will also be a gift you give yourself.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

This article also appears:  Authentic Women Assist News


Life may not be a bowl of cherries, but I am offering you some delectable desserts within my two Sister Mary Olga books. If you have an open mind and a zest for living, you will be able to laugh your troubles away. If you're in a place of joy, I will only increase it.

The irreverent Sister Mary Olga Fortitude is a nun who likes to nip her booze while she sends up smoke signals to God from her Marlboro cigarettes. She does this much to the consternation of her Reverend Mother who happens to be a reformed prostitute.

I throw into the mix a diverse cast of delightfully dysfunctional characters with whom to titillate your funny bone. Try out the dried out prudish prune, Priscilla Bunhead. She is in sharp contrast to the fun-loving gay cowboy chef, Randy Cowboy. Just wait until he finds out a secret beneath a nun's habit when he discovers that Sister Samantha isn't what she appears to be.

You'll meet the clown-like Lilliliver Lipstick who dabbles in the dirt with Priscilla. The two of them recruit an arch conservative minister named Reverend Billy-Bob Blunthead. He and his wife, Pinky Poo, bring the Born Again or Burn Forever Disciples for Jesus to Bucksnort to wipe out what they consider to be perversion.

You've got it! Priscilla and Billy-Bob don't like gay people and there are plenty of gay characters with whom they tangle. Priscilla gets her panties in an uproar only to find that her crusade backfires on her when the townspeople of Bucksnort come out in support of their gay brothers and sisters.

You'll relate to the foibles of my cast as you learn to laugh at your own.

Take a joy ride to Bucksnort.

Visit where you can purchase "The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude" and "Babes in Bucksnort".

Just be prepared to get your own panties into an uproar.

Enjoy the journey!

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Available in Paperback and Kindle Formats! Kindle Formats are $3.99. You can purchase Kindle Format and send as a gift to anyone that has an email address. 

Thursday, May 5, 2011


It wasn't easy, but I chose not to pick up a drink one day at a time. I attended as many as four AA meetings a day for the first few months. The problem was that I had another addiction that picked up speed. That was my long-time sexual addiction.

After my late night AA meeting, I would cruise the streets and continue to have multiple anonymous sexual encounters that frequently involved unsafe sex. Mind you, this was long before there were drugs available that could help keep HIV disease in check. I was playing Russian Roulette. The chances were that I would expose myself to the virus. What terrified me was that I would bring it home to my partner. Guilt, shame, and remorse became themes that only continued to propel me back into that addiction.

Even so, I was on a high as I began to see God working in other areas of my life. Within a few weeks, I was relieved of the compulsion to drink. That seemed to be a miracle and it was! God was doing for me what I could not do for myself. Yet, I had no idea where to turn to for help with my sexual addiction.

I decided to go to a rehab even though my drinking was no longer a problem. I chose one for gay people that also said they would deal with sexual addiction. That didn't happen to be the case.

I did have a wonderful psychiatrist while there. She asked me a pointed question about my first depression. What she wanted to know was did I feel like I was crazy at that time. I responded by saying that I thought I had been going crazy as my mother had done many years before. She did not prescribe any medication even though the staff kept sending me back to her. My primary problem seemed to be that I was withdrawing from acting out sexually.

I returned home even more depressed than before. I still had not been able to receive any help with my sexual addiction and the craving was still there as before. Sanity would only begin to come when I finally found my way to Sex Addicts Anonymous.

Finally, I began to find periods of freedom from my long-ingrained behaviors. It wasn't easy and I often slipped. The difference was that I now had tools and people to support me.

Unfortunately, I only stayed with the program for about a year and a half. Something came along that swept me off my feet and into the outer stratosphere. That was my first full blown mania. I left the program after a prolonged period of delusional and paranoid thinking. I was afraid that the other members would try to get me committed to a mental hospital.

At first, it felt wonderful. I felt as if everything in the universe was speaking to me. My energy levels were tremendous and I could handle almost anything. I became very creative and began to write poetry. Then the delusions began.

As paranoia and anger took hold of me, my partner became afraid. He moved out without saying a word. He didn't want me to know where he went.

I somehow managed to work, but in my off hours I was as high as a kite. My life began to become a shambles. My house became a total mess. I was deteriorating into a state of sheer madness.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Tuesday, May 3, 2011


Shortly after I asked my wife for a divorce, I met a beautiful man and began what seemed as if it would be a relationship that would last forever. It did last for a very long time. It's just that nothing in this life is written in stone.

After years of spending my life as a sex addict, I thought the lure of that addiction would finally be broken once I met a man to whom I was attracted. I certainly loved him. Unfortunately, love is never enough when it comes to the void within the addict that nothing outside of him or herself can ever fill.

I pledged to remain monogamous to him, but it was only a matter of time before the spell was broken. After my first few slips, I fell into another suicidal depression. Once again, I weathered it out without reaching out for help. Then, after a few months, it disappeared. I was back on top of the world again. Life seemed absolutely fabulous. The only problem was that I was acting out sexually more than ever. That would remain my dirty little secret.

The following years would unfold in a similar pattern. I would plunge into depressions that would be followed by emotional highs. Fortunately, the depressions were not as devastating as my earlier ones. That was a blessing that would not last. The zinger lay ahead.

On October 19, 1987, I attempted to hang myself. Realizing that I didn't want to have my partner find my body hanging from a noose, I somehow managed to undo the knot as I struggled to keep from dangling from it. Once free, I took an overdose that should have knocked out a horse. As my good fortune would have it, I had developed an amazing tolerance to substances. I had become an active alcoholic in deep denial and I only ended up turning into a zombie.

I spent the next three weeks on a psychiatric ward where I had my first encounter with a psychiatrist. He turned out to be a loser. Every morning, the waiting room would be filled with his patients. One by one, we would be called in to see him where he would spend all of one to two minutes before sending us back to the ward. The medication I had been put on took away my suicidal inclinations, but I still felt miserable.

Finally, I was released to the care of my partner and I soon returned to work. I was ashamed of my hospitalization and kept it a secret. I went into work where I felt totally incompetent to carry out my duties. Somehow, I carried on.

Eventually I came out of my stupor and began to feel as if I was invincible. Once I had reached that point, I began to drink like a fish. The end of my alcoholic career was dramatic. I drank more and more each day until it was an around-the-clock love affair with the bottle. The thing that brought me to my senses was when my partner left me since he couldn't handle watching what I was doing to myself or the damage it was having upon our relationship.

It also opened a door that I was about to walk through that would bring me into the next phase of my journey to sanity. On April 5, 1988 I had my last drunk. The following day I went to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. That would take care of the drinking problem, but a new problem was about to emerge.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

Monday, May 2, 2011


I always thought that I'd had a happy childhood. Most of it was, but there was trauma too. Some of that was deeply buried and I didn't begin to get in touch with it until I became an adult. Such can often be the case.

I was frequently happy and oftentimes silly. Yet I came to later realize that much of this silliness was a cover-up for a deeper pain. I would often become moody. My moods would swing from high to low and back again. It would be many years before I discovered how dramatic that could become. Much pain would lie ahead for me.

I had a devastating depression when I was twenty-one. I became desperately suicidal. I had never experienced such pain in my life. Fortunately, I didn't do anything stupid, but I didn't seek help. I knew I couldn't handle the pain, but I thought it would be a sign of weakness to reach out for help. I ended up dropping out of graduate school and I thought that I was a failure.

Within a couple of months, I recovered. I went from a tremendous low to a tremendous high where I felt as if I was on top of the world. I returned to my girlfriend in New Hampshire and I began a wonderful new career as a field editor for an academic publisher. I thought everything in my life was fine. I had hope for myself again.

A year later, paranoia set in. I began to fear that I was a fraud and a failure even though I had become one of the top-performing representatives within my company. I was in a state of delusion, but it felt all too real to me.

Within months, I was back on top of the world again. I began to make fabulous plans for my future. I became married and I was quickly promoted. I was on the fast track to becoming an executive at the age of twenty-three. That was when another emotional disaster struck.

I had devastating depression and I became suicidal again. I couldn't function on my job. I'd awaken in the morning in a state of terror and I'd pull the sheets up over my head. I didn't want to get out of bed. I couldn't face another day of sheer panic.

My wife did what I couldn't do for myself. She found me a psychotherapist. That was the beginning of a journey toward sanity that wouldn't begin to fully manifest for another thirteen years.

I separated from my wife as I began to fully accept that I was a gay man. She eventually moved away. More depression followed.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui