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After dealing with the pressure of life and hating my existence, I decided screw it, I will try all of those things because I had intended to die soon anyhow. Might as well see what the fuss was about, right? I had been cutting and burning myself for a while to try to cope with my anger and sadness. I took every pill that we had in the medicine cabinet, Tylenol, ibruprofen and NyQuil.

I laid in my bed and thought about all of the mental, emotional, physical and sexual abuse I had endured in my 14 years. I closed my eyes with a serene smile and felt content knowing it would all soon be over. I failed at ending my life. Just as I failed at everything else in my mind and as a result, I was in individual and group therapy. I hated it. Nothing changed.

None of my problems went away. However, I would soon discover ways to numb it all. This was a game changer. I would soon start doing just about any drug I could. My drugs of choice would become ecstasy, cocaine, shrooms, acid, and pills of all kinds mostly Vicodin as it was easiest for me to get. All of my friends for the most part knew I partied and messed around, but none of them, even my closest friends knew the actual severity of it.

No one realised that I was doing whatever I had to in order to get money and that I had a real addiction. I would have small moments of sobriety here and there throughout, trying to get clean to make my papa my grandpa proud, as his opinion of me was the only one I cared about. I manipulated, lied, and hurt people.

I would date certain people based on their access to drugs or money. I put myself in some very precarious situations that I still try to wash myself clean of. Being numb was better than having to feel anything, any emotion, even happiness. The tolerance I had built up to drugs was so high, that I was taking what is usually considered a lethal amount. From age 14 to age 21 I was on a mission to be numb or die. Every night was a blur and a party. No one knew, and if they did, they never said a word.

I used to think that I got away with it because I graduated at the top of my class, and got scholarships and worked and rented my own houses and on the outside, looked like I had it together. I was 21 when I finally stopped everything with the aid of Suboxone and some very horrendous withdrawals. One day at work, during withdrawals I was so horribly sick and, convinced I was dying and sick with pneumonia.

My jaw, my stomach and my heart sank. What if I failed the baby?! What if I ended up just like my mom?! What was this feeling I had?! I was overcome with emotions as I realized that for the first time in a long time, that there was nothing I wanted more than to stay clean so that I could be the most amazing mother I could be! On June 17, I welcomed the most beautiful, big alien-headed, healthy, little girl into the world and was born anew with her. She has brought so much joy to my life. So much light in the darkness I had known for so long.

Nothing mattered to me anymore in that moment other than her and my sobriety. For the first time in my life it seemed, I wanted to live and fully embrace my new chapter. We actually have a proper relationship now which we never had before. Today, I am sober for over three years. I see a therapist and psychiatrist weekly that I actually like and feel confident in.

I am getting the appropriate treatment that I have been needing all of this time, which makes a huge difference. All we can do is keep breathing. Only you know your truth. We are the authors of our own stories, our own life, and every one out there struggling, you need to know that you are strong and capable and that people do care. To submit your own story for consideration, click HERE:! I became anorexic after the third grade, as a result of severe emotional abuse from a couple of people in my life at the time.

I have a LOT of years of negative and harmful behaviors under my belt, and it is a daily struggle to overcome them. I spent the entirety of my grade school, middle school, and high school years dying to be thin. I was stuck in a cycle of starving myself for as long as I could, binging on anything I could find in the house, hating myself for it, and then starting all over again. I remember my parents freaking out when I stopped eating, unsure of what to do and how to help me. When I was around 10, my mom started putting special foods in my room that I could eat for breakfast—mini muffins, plums, crackers, and more of my favorite snacks—to entice me to eat more.

I would force myself to run for miles, even though I hated running more than anything. I even joined the track team when I was 12, running sprints and jumping hurdles until my nearly-empty stomach would make me woozy and lightheaded each day after school. When I was seventeen, I added bulimia to the mix and began purging after almost every meal. This quickly spiraled out of control, and I began binging huge amounts of food and then purging it immediately after.

I ate entire pizzas, entire cakes, entire quarts of ice cream while hiding away in my room, wrapped in shame that consumed me. While quietly crouched over the dingy dorm toilet, I felt a sharp pain in my throat as I purged. I panicked, having read about the danger of torn esophaguses. Was this it? Was I going to die bent over a freaking toilet? I often find myself heartbroken at how many people I meet that are trapped by the same feelings as me.

To wake up each day hating oneself on the inside and out is a curse that nobody should have to live with. I feel extraordinarily lucky to be alive, generally healthy, and surrounded by people and dogs! Through hard work and the love of others, I have stopped obsessing about the number on the scale. I have my own story of recovery.

To read it, click here. To submit your own story of recovery, follow the guidelines here. I was underweight and my eyes, well, they just look awful. My name is Amanda Burns, I am 26 years old and it has been 3 years, 8 months, and 22 days since I have been free of addiction. I was 15 years old when I first felt the effects of opiates. I remember my mother had taken me to the orthodontist to have two of my wisdom teeth pulled. The doctor had prescribed Percocet, so my mom handed me a pill and I gulped it down without any given thought. About 20 minutes had passed and then I realized… I was floating, I was warm, and I felt great.

I was 19 years old when I gave birth to my first-born son. I was prescribed oxycodone. I gulped the first dose down without any given thought. It was different this time. I knew what was going to happen, and I was excited. This experience was even better, it was a stronger form of opiate. God, I loved it. I began to take double doses, and I never once thought that I was abusing my medication. My son was born with a very rare and life-threatening heart disease and at just 4 days old, he underwent his first open heart surgery. I was a new mom, and I had a newborn who took up all my time.

Two weeks went by, and he was finally strong enough to come home with us. I was so excited. But I was 19 and naive. About 3 months went by and I found myself to be really stressed, and tired, and just angry. I remembered that my mother took a bout of medications. I can remember frantically searching, and googling what each medication was, what it did. I looked at the bottle I had just googled and with shaking hands, poured about 10 to 15 of the mysterious pills into the palm of my hand.

I sat on my bed just staring at the white, oval shaped pills. About 3 months went by and I was taking up to 6 a day now; 3 in the morning and 3 before bed. I would find a way to get those pills though. She quickly knew and confronted me about it, and said she would do anything in her power to keep me from her pills. My life and my childhood were not bad. I mean, I had my fair share of ugly memories, I had experienced some abuse throughout my life — not by my parents, but they both did have their dark secrets.

Their own addictions, about their abuse, both of their terrible childhoods. My parents loved me and my sister as best as they could. We were never well educated on drugs, or that they caused something called withdrawal. The little knowledge I held about drugs came from the kids at school, and that just made me more curious. I never expected to become an addict, having to swallow or snort a pill just to feel normal.

Maybe, I was trying to avoid realizing. These pills were the only thing that made me feel good anymore. I began to search for pills elsewhere. All I knew is that if I gave them money, they gave me my pills. But one day, I called her and this is what she said. I thought heroin only came in liquid form and that the only way to use it was to shoot it up through a vein. This is how uneducated I was about the drug. My whole body aches, my skin is clammy, my eyes are watering, nose is running, heart is pounding.

I hand her the cash, she hands me my dope, we exchange a few empty words and I can hardly wait. I snort the white, gray powder through my nose; I began to float, I was warm, and I felt great again. I did a lot of aweful things while hooked on heroin. I stole, I lied, I manipulated, I sold my sons things for money, I was not acting like the mother I should have been. But, most importantly, I hurt and lost the people whom I loved most. All I had was my heroin now. That her grandson would now grow up without a mother. The first time I told my mom about my heroin addiction, was on her birthday in Happy birthday, mom.

I think we were both in denial, not knowing how bad it was, not knowing how ugly it was about to get. She tried to help me detox at home and gave me some of her medications to help take the edge off. It worked… For a short while. I got my license and a job. I made almost 2 months clean. We messed up, though. I relapsed. But they knew, parents always know. After about a month long binge, I had to come home, I needed to find a way to steal some cash.

I remember the withdrawal creeping up on me. It took countless relapses, 3 detox visits, 8 months worth of drug abuse counseling, and all the support I could accept to finally get it right. To finally understand that life is just too precious, that I am worth it. I am now a mother of 2 beautiful little boys, ages 7 and 1. I am happily in love with my boyfriend of almost 11 years, and I am majoring in Human Services, studying to become a Substance Abuse Counselor.

I want to help every addict that I can, show them that they are not alone, and that they are very much worth it. My name is Amanda Burns and I am 3 years, 8 months and 22 days free of addiction. I wrote my own story of recovery. Check it out here. To submit your own story of recovery, click here. I am a year-old female raised in an upper-class white family who, on the outside, seemed to have everything that everyone wanted.

The big house, a family with money, dropped off to school in a BMW. My parents divorced when I was seven years old. I only remember hearing the screaming from the vent by the head of my bed. My TV was on a sleep timer. But I turned it back on to drown out the sound. My first memory was my younger sister and I going downstairs on a particularly bad night of fighting and putting pots and pans on our heads in an attempt to stop the screaming. I wish that I could tell you that this is what led me to a year love affair with heroin.

I was the loser at school who told everyone that weed and alcohol were gateway drugs. A walking D. I met a boy who I dated for 9 and a half years. He fell into an experimental phase with drugs and eventually those drugs led him to heroin. It took off like wildfire and it showed no mercy. There was never enough love. Heroin controlled my life for the next 13 years. It took and took and took from me. But I did. I knew what I was doing. But then I needed more. I slowly stopped caring about everything and everyone causing me to lose them just as quickly as the thought that entered my head.

If I met a guy willing to date me, I held on to him like my self-worth depended on it. I took him down with me and made sure I made him think it was his fault. I was toxic. I was your worst nightmare dressed up in an impeccable style, blonde hair, blue eyes and the perfect makeup. Anything to make you think twice about what they said about my being a heroin addict.

My mental state started to deteriorate. I obsessed over my weight. Anything above 3 digits on the scale was unacceptable. Food became a distant memory and a close enemy. And I was unwelcome at holidays much less in family homes. I can say with confidence that I never stole a thing from anyone. One thing I kept were my morals. Early 20s with a 6-figure income and a raging heroin addiction meant that I was never sick.

So eventually, I got evicted. I lost my dogs. I took about 11 years to pick up a needle. I swore I never would. As soon as I invited the needle into my life, the rest of the things that I loved, left; and with it came my first overdose. I decided to go to a rehab for detox to get my family, friends and boyfriend to get off my back. Being that no one was really educated on the severity of what I was battling, they went with it. I left with someone there and an hour later had a needle in my arm laying on my kitchen floor. I wound up in a coma for 3 days in the ICU with a tube down my throat.

About 6 months later, my boyfriend had had enough. I had started a relationship with someone else online looking for the love that barely existed between us anymore. Begging him not to go, I agreed to go to rehab, over and over and over again. But he saw right through it. I agreed to go to Florida for treatment. I went right back to rehab after what transpired in Florida and I never really properly dealt with what had happened, so I wound up relapsing. I was on a year-long run again when I found out my brother passed on November 25, I was living in California.

I was excited to come home and see my boyfriend when I went back for the funeral. But I had quickly learned that my boyfriend was cheating on my for the past six months. I was devastated. Suicidal and done with what my life had become. I said I was going to kill myself.

Maybe to control him, maybe for attention, maybe a cry for help. That night, I wound up arrested.

**Warning – Triggers**

This was the second time. That summer, I was arrested for felony sales to support my habit. But nothing like this. I sat in jail for 3 months on warrants. I saw what my life had been turning into as the high wore off and reality set in. That boyfriend who promised to be there never answered a single phone call.

After 4 years. I have never experienced such pain, regret, disgust, shame, guilt and loneliness. The court mandated me to treatment and probation. I just got home 3 days ago.

I am so grateful and so blessed. I am coming up on 90 days clean. My life is by no means fixed or perfect. I still have a broken heart. My ex is still with the girl he cheated on me with. I am owed nothing by anyone but myself. Today, I give myself time. Today, I love myself. Today, I am free of the chains that are heroin. I am blessed. I am happy. I am alive. And that is the most beautiful thing ever. I wrote my own story of recovery… to read it click here. To submit your own Recovering Beautifully story, follow the guidelines here. But not every day is an easy day. There are days where I long for the pain.

I stopped for a while until I reached high school. My grandmother whom was like a second mother to me passed away just before I started high school and my parents went through a nasty divorce. So, my world had completely shifted. I was angry, sad and lost. I had friends but no one to talk to that would understand. I remember starting off hitting myself, leaving bruises. I remember taking shaving razors apart to use the blades to make small cuts.

Then there were more cuts. I remember the first time I cut myself with a box cutter. The deepest I had ever cut myself.

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I looked at it with utter fascination… and I wanted more. Id wake up and cut myself before school and Id come home and cut myself after. Hundreds of cuts at any given time. Forced to wear long sleeves and arm warmers when it was hot. My turning point was in chemistry class when we were learning to use the burners.

After going to the guidance office and speaking with a counselor, they called my mother and we set up an appointment with a psychologist. The adjusting it took to get used to the medicine almost set me over the edge. I was worse than ever before, cutting deeper to the point where I tried killing myself. I laid on the floor with slowly bleeding wrists, but they closed on their own. Once I got passed the initial adjustment of the medication it actually started to do its job. I was happy again and I started to feel normal. I regret how I treated my mother in my dark days and even now I still have them here and there.

I had one slip up when I was feeling overwhelmed two years ago. There are days where I just want to sit back and hide… but the messages I get from my followers telling me how much I inspire them helps keep me going. I cannot convey my whole story, but to the teenagers in this world, it gets better! You can survive it. You are stronger than what you think. We all are! You can do whatever you set your mind to.

I wrote my own story of recovery, click here to check it out! To send me your story of recovery, check the guidelines here. Ironically, I would normally post about recovery from addiction; which will no doubt be a constant struggle of mine. However, living with abuse is what actually caused me to become a shell of a person. My raver days and journals to God and drugs for decades were all set aside when I married someone. He had a slow manipulative grasp on my soul, my heart and love of life, my no twelve year old son. My son has autism and we met my husband closely as friends when i was a single mom working a corporate job.

We thought he hung the moon, and he sure did. He showed up to special education meetings, holidays and family life. He embraced autism and all that seemed to matter in our world was our future together. Having left all drug and religious-perfectionist thinking of a simple life to complete us behind. He lived a life of prostitute-addiction and was a pathological liar seeking to gain status in middle-class America.

Then I started catching the lying, but I ignored it all until cheating was revealed in the most obvious habit pattern. But all of his bank accounts were not to be seen or touched. I left after the cheating, fraud and porn addictions that became extreme; but, I returned.

I felt it was right, and I had this drive that it felt like it was up to me to love, forgive and save the only security we had at the time. My thinking became dependent. He became angry after his father passed and would rape me, throw things, lock me out of the house. Or he would hit not only my autistic son, but also my toddler at the time. They would cry and scream as he hit and yelled more. We would cower and it would make him more angry. I slowly disappeared as a person. I was terrified he would cheat again so I would beg for proof of receipts and pictures while he was out, Which would lead to me paying the price in bed later that evening with pain and humiliation.

His power grew and I began hurting so much that it was physically difficult for me to walk at times. We made it through barely keeping him calm. They told me to hold it together for the kids, and I really did try. I became sick all the time and we lived poised for his entrance every night. And somewhere down the line, he took away my ability to care for and console my children.

Sometimes myself or the kids would hide in the bathtub to get away from him. All the while making me feel confused and promising he loved me. We grew to live this way as a family, my kids knew nothing else. He slept on the floor with my youngest for about 3 years while I would be shaking in the bedroom not allowed to come out. My husband conditioned him to think that coming to me would lead to him being beaten. I left after making it through a holiday season to appease extended family. He had forced me to drink enough to pass out despite my resisting. He stripped me and took photos while of me while I was asleep.

He sent them online for days and supposedly it was his new online job that he was starting from home from me tablet. I had been asked each time to take the kids out so he could get this work done until I discovered what he had been doing. The anger was fierce! I had no account access, food or a place to stay so I fled to my parents house. I stayed there for a bit and raised my two boys. But he eventually crept back in. This shocks me still, but I was so brainwashed into believing that he was the only way me and my children were going to survive. We rented a new home and believed that it would work this time.

But, he took out his anger on his stepson again. My son began to self harm and write about his anguish and we all still had to walk on eggshells around him. Although, this time, I started to get angry as well. Perhaps subconsciously, I was angry with myself for sleeping beside someone I feared every night. Underneath it all, I never forgave him and I was angry with myself for going back to him after having proof not to. I became even more depressed and was not the mother my children deserved.

I became wreck-less and put my family through a shockwave of behavior that I still cant believe came from a girl full of love and passion like myself. I just gave up. And thats exactly what he wanted; for me to become so worn down until there was nothing left of myself.

One night, he wooed me with a homemade meal and wine at home which meant he needed sex, or else. I went with it and felt genuinely happy and hopeful, as we spoke of a baby and saving for soccer for our little guy, he snapped and his eyes were black.

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I ended up slammed into a wall for several minutes as he screamed about sex in my face while holding me down. I called the police and I finally had courage to press charges. Thankfully, I am out and will never return! I homeschool my oldest son after seeing the pain he went through in public school. They segregated him and deemed him incapable when he has all that he needs to be successful! I left this man in February last year and have an apartment, a job, a car, and my boys. A new life and the knowledge that I have no idea what happened for the past 8 years but that I am so glad it is over!

I made the right choice for my sons and that the truth will set them free. I wrote my own story of recovery, click here to check it out. To submit your own story of recovery click here! Leaving a parent at a treatment center time after time at a young age was life changing. It is a feeling that could only be understood by another child who kept losing their mother over and over to addiction.

This is about the truth behind my addiction. When I was about fifteen, I found out something that completely shook my world. I felt like was a living, daily reminder of a horrific event that my mother had to endure; and my mind raced wondering if I would be like the monster that forced my creation.

I felt lied to, betrayed. Like I was all alone and that deep down I was unwanted. If I was told now, instead of then, I would have taken it much better. Life unfolded the way that it did, I am here, and my family loves me no matter what. I wish I would have seen it like that back then.

I drank to forget, turning my days and nights into black out drunk adventures. I spiraled fast and the next four years were a complete blur. People definitely saw me as the fun party girl. I would get caught up in fighting a lot because I would never be able to hurt the person that hurt me the most. Looking back, I think I did it for attention, a cry for help. At eighteen I took a bunch of pills with a lot of alcohol.

I believe that I did truly want to die that time. But once found, I was sent to rehab for alcohol abuse and it turned into one the worst mistakes I ever made. I went to treatment to get better and in all reality, I soon got worse than I ever was. After rehab I moved to a town far from home with a person I met in rehab. Things were okay at first. It felt good to be away from everything at home and be somewhere where nobody knew me.

I felt at peace with life. But the feeling you get when you first shoot meth is unexplainable. It makes you feel more alive then you have ever felt. It quickly tricks you into thinking that the only way to feel alive is with a needle. The next three years cycled like this: get high for days maybe weeks, fall out wherever I may be at that time, then wake up wherever after however long it takes and then go get high again. One look at my arms and you would have no doubt. My arms were so bad that I would cry on the bathroom floor or have people try other spots on my body because I needed that high.

Of course, nothing was as gratifying as injecting. Selling and using drugs became my way of life, and soon turned into all that I thought about. One day I decided I was done, and I knew it was my time. Would I stay clean forever? Two months after getting clean I found out I was four weeks pregnant. Talk about timing! I believe I was given an angel; my child saved my life. Even though I have been clean for three and a half years, using could be so easy for me. My mind still plays tricks on me telling me I could just do it once for fun. I told myself I would never live a life of addiction because of what I saw growing up.

Maybe I went through that to open my eyes up about what I wanted for my child. I will never let my son go through that. To read more stories like this click HERE. To submit your own story check out the guidelines HERE. It was September 11 th , I slowly and painfully opened my eyes to see a screenshot of the Twin Towers collapsing on the news in a memorial tribute they were conducting. Because in my own life, my world was collapsing. Collapsing so fast around me there was no way to stop it. I slowly realized where I was. I was in a hospital bed, connected to endless tubes and feeling like I was hit by a speeding train.

It appeared as if I had everything on the outside, but on the inside… I was done. I was done with suffering from bulimia and self-hatred. I was done with the panic attacks, with the highs and lows that came with the mental illness I carried for years without knowing. I was done with hiding my body in the September heat because of all the wounds I had inflicted upon myself.

I was done with my newest malady—a prescription drug addiction I was unaware I even had at the time. So I had taken the pills. All of the pills. I needed my pain to end so I took matters into my own hands. Little did I know I would survive and my journey that had seemed so long up to that point was actually just beginning. I was kicked out of my dream college for overdosing in my dorm room, and forced to return home with two furious and hopeless parents.

The following months were some of the lowest of my life. For one thing, I was detoxing from the pills. For another thing, I was on suicide watch. I was unable to be alone during the day, yet spending every waking moment that I was possibly able to binging and purging and self-harming. I had loathed my body so much , that I spent every day injuring my underweight, yet seemingly enormous stomach in the shower, hoping for it to somehow appear more acceptable to me when laden with indelible scars. I remembered that after I was hospitalized for anorexia for the first time at age fourteen, I had read a book that was recommended to me, which was written by two authors.

It became my recovery Bible, my survival handbook. The month after I overdosed, I connected with one of these authors on Facebook. He told me he was conducting an eating disorder recovery retreat in Nashville and would love it if I came. So I took a leap of faith and traveled from Detroit, Michigan to Nashville, Tennessee not expecting much of anything to happen there. Little did I know my life was about to change. At the retreat, the moderators and other girls there talked about a residential treatment center just outside the city. They made it sound like a safe haven where healing just naturally occurred.

Following the retreat I had a two-month long fight with my parents to let me go to the Recovery Ranch in Tennessee. They thought it was a waste of time and money after undergoing so much outpatient and inpatient treatment up to that point, they thought I was a lost cause. Eventually they begrudgingly to let me go to treatment. The day finally came.

December 22, I hopped on a plane at eighteen years old and travelled to the Ranch, hopeful yet horrified. Regret immediately set in once I arrived. Before I left home, my father had threatened to disown if I came back with my same issues tagging along. The next 90 days I did the most work on myself as I had ever done. I uncovered the root of my eating disorder, mental illness, self-injury, and addiction.

With my trauma therapists, I finally talked. I finally talked openly and honestly. I talked about my severe Misophonia Sensory Disorder that destroyed my family and my childhood ever since the age of two. I talked about the time I was assaulted in junior high, my innocence stolen and heart permanently broken. We talked about what the disease was doing for me, how it was serving me, and how it was not. Parents weekend was in March. My parents came and we discussed everything. All the pain that they had no idea I had been experiencing, the pain that caused so much anguish for me, and in turn for us all.

I saw my dad cry for the first time. Inexplicably, it was incredibly heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. After the Ranch I was transferred to Wisconsin for transitional living for five and a half months, during which time I was accepted into the University of South Alabama, a school I was introduced to by my best friend from treatment. I relocated to Mobile, Alabama, once again both hopeful and horrified.

I was afraid that round two of college was going to turn out exactly like round one. But I was stronger this time. I was doing great in college until my parents called me to come back home for a visit a few weeks in. I had a bad feeling about this. As I suspected, both my parents were in the parking lot outside of the airport, my dad, looking once again like he would burst into tears.

He told me my mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. I had to return back to school with this news in mind and try not to let it affect me which was difficult, but luckily I did great. Nine months later I received a call that the cancer was quickly spreading in her brain now, and I had to return home immediately. The dementia had set in for the first time.

We had brain surgery and she recovered but it was a long journey ahead of us. I returned back to school once again in August , and went into full- blown anorexia relapse. The restriction set in again, which was soon followed by binging and purging and running up to ten plus miles a day. My body was exhausted. But it was the only way to deal with a dying, dementia-inflicted mother. Soon after that I met an amazing man and everything seemed to get better.

In March , my dad once again called to say it was time to come home. This time to say my goodbyes. I was twenty-two. She was fifty-one. The same year mother died, my boyfriend and I decided to get engaged. Unfortunately, her death had triggered in me a relapse with myself-injury that landed me back in treatment.

I once again took a look at my triggers, did some more trauma work, and stopped the self-injury and eating disorder once and for all. Things have been much better since then, but not all rainbows and unicorns. At first it was failing out of Occupational Therapy school due to anxiety and overly-sedating medication, then it was losing my best guy friend to suicide, then a divorce at which time I was forced to return home. I experienced liver failure caused by Hepatitis which almost cost me my life.

But now, I am happy to say that I am behavior-free and feeling as healthy and strong as ever. I could waste my time feeling sorry for myself. I could stay in bed and grieve my losses and not try so hard to motivate myself to keep going. But the truth is, if I had an easy life, I would never had gained the experience, strength, and hope that I did through my struggle. I can honestly say I have something more priceless than any number on a scale, marriage or occupation.

I have resilience. Why is resilience better? Because it means that I can still enjoy my good days, but I can survive through my bad days, as well. That is something no one can buy or obtain through anything but fighting. I fought hard. And I won. I want to help people who I know are struggling through something horrific. Something that has another side. And I thank God that I was able to get there…. I am completely aware that I am not responsible for how people perceive me — especially when their perceptions are askew. Why is it important that I defend myself?

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In publishing this, I am giving myself permission to release the unbearable heavy weight of trying to please everyone. So I will type this, and bid these feelings—and those who have fallen out of love with me, adieu. In May of last year, One year and four months ago, I was a mother of three working at a carpentry company. I made a silly video for no reason other than I felt like it— and it went viral. In one year, and four months , I have been blessed with over 2.

I was not expecting any of this and frankly, I was completely unprepared. However I was grateful, honored and joyous over the fact that I had finally—found my calling. I loved making videos, and people loved watching them.

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The thing is, making videos, brightening peoples days, and spreading awareness became my mission — I loved doing it. With a large number of supporters, comes a large number of people reaching out to me. This is from tonight, from my email—one of 5 inboxes…. And it is constantly in the back of my mind that I am unable to respond to everyone bearing their soul in my inbox.

Have I changed? Yes, I feel like I am letting people down on a constant basis. There are days where, in order to keep my sanity, I steer clear of social media all together. I have to. I have recently been called names and unfollowed because I did a few sponsored ads. Those sponsored videos, are what allows me to make the rest of the videos for your enjoyment. I do that at no cost, because I like to make people happy.

You can scroll on by and watch the rest of the stuff I spend my life creating — at no charge. Why does it bother you so much? I work with two companies, because I truly love them as people, and as a brand. Here are just some of the offers I turned down this month..

I always say no, I am trying to get by, not get rich, which is why I have kept it at only two companies. I have changed, in many ways. I have learned as I go, grown, and tried my best, to make the most of my second chance at life. My true supporters understand me, and my heart, and they are the ones I am concerned with. I am a wife and mother first, and a content creator next. I will continue creating content until someone kicks me off the internet, or I am no longer able to provide for my family while doing what I love.

I am so grateful to everyone who has stuck by me, and who see my true intentions and goals. First off, let me start this by saying I know Postpartum Depression and Postpartum Anxiety are two different things. However, in the case of my life… they came together. They filled my head with so many lies, drained my soul, and constantly made me feel like I was failing. Some days it seemed impossible to accomplish even the smallest of tasks, others were filled with so much fear and anxiety that I struggled to leave the house. Staying in the house, however, only made the depression worse.

Subsequently, making the anxiety worse. I constantly felt as though I was on this never-ending tilt-a-whirl. My postpartum anxiety made me feel like asking for help was not an option. That if I did, people would judge me. That if I was honest, they would tell me that I needed to suck it up. This fear consumed me, and kept me from seeking help. It wrecked my world, while also making it feel like it would never get better. In some ways, the postpartum depression was worse. A good mom would snap right out of this.

My PPD robbed me of so many beautiful moments. Although I was physically present and trying my best to enjoy every moment, the negative thoughts would steal the joy. For the longest time, I believed it was my fault. That somehow, I caused this simply by being me, and that it was only me who had ever felt like this. One from a strict Mormon household and the other from a sexually liberated naturist household.

One of them had to leave behind everything and everyone they knew to be able to be together. The series can be found by searching for "Moral Opposites". Moral Opposites by Charlie Wish A romantic attraction that should not happen. Two people whose moral beliefs are at the opposite ends on the spectrum accidentally meet and fall in love. He is from a devout and strict Mormon family and she is from a sexually liberated nudist family.

Which belief wins out? Read the first book and find out. Swing Island by Charlie Wish A two book series of romance novels of a not very well endowed ordinary guy who, through a surprise inheritance, becomes not only incredibly wealthy but a sex god. In this hot romance he is quickly snapped up by a beautiful young woman who, rather than keep him to herself, encourages his sexual development with many partners both male and female.

They discover they have a unique bond and deep love for each other that no one can come between. Working together they build the most exclusive and unique swinging resort on an island where there is a permanent ban on clothes, and that goes for everyone including the staff. Words: 3, Language: British English. Published: July 6, This is a free excerpt from the Swing Island series. Warning: This story contains explicit details of sexual acts between consenting adults. If explicit details of sexual activity including rimming are likely to offend you in any way then please do not read any further.

Words: 23, Published: March 12, Words: 16, Published: February 21, Everyone's favourite couple start the more practical lessons and have fun with the sex toys as they learn about them and BDSM. Words: 22, Published: February 15, Fun in the classroom This is the second book of the Sprigs Sex Academy series. Sam and Chloe settle into life at the Sprigs Academy and their love blossoms and deepens as does their love of seeing each other sexually satisfy others.

When they work together though, everyone ends up more than very satisfied. Words: 18, Published: February 8, Exclusive Management, Business and Sex Studies. Words: 11, Published: February 1, He doesn't stand a chance as they plan to share him. Two single mums plan to share a DILF they met at toddler group.

After they seduce him individually, comparing notes as they go, he turns the tables on them and they all enjoy a threesome. Words: 13, Published: January 28, A romance between a 55 yr old man and a 23 yr old virgin saving herself for the 'one' The Aphrodite boat has a history of love and conception and the two are brought together in this exciting erotic story Warning: This story contains scenes of an adult nature and is suitable for adults only. Words: 8, Published: October 23, She gets exactly what she wants. Eighteen year old Emma really didn't want to grow up and was very unhappy.

Suddenly finding herself on the streets after her step father threw her out she found solace in Tom who was willing to look after her. Initially Tom only had platonic feelings for Emma and just wanted to help the poor girl. Emma had other ideas and slowly seduced him. Words: 9, Published: October 22, Masonic lodge cross BDSM club Jason and Emma are invited into a very secret and exclusive club but first they must pass a test and endure a lengthy initiation where their bodies are used and abused for many people's sexual gratification which lasts for hours.

If they can get through this they are assured substantial rewards. Words: 39, Published: October 17, The Norths Series. All 5 books in one Steve North, aged 52, is persuaded by his best mate to try a exclusive and very expensive mail order bride company. Despite Steve's reservations things progress at a surprising pace and he suddenly finds himself married to the girl of his dreams, 18 years old with the perfect body.

Published: October 16, Steve and Anna North start swinging regularly. With their first swinging a success even though it was kind of not planned 52 year old Steve North and his young wife, the beautiful 18 year old blond from Latvia take their soft swinging into hard swinging with their friends Will and Mia. They invite their large breasted neighbour and husband round for, hopefully, some fun. Words: 5, Published: October 13, Swinging with friends for the first time. Anna's house rules means everyone is naked. Some harmless flirting leads on to more and Anna's bisexual side emerges much to the pleasure of the men.

Words: 10, Published: October 11, The pool boy and the M. Tom builds an unlikely relationship with a single mother of three when he services her swimming pool every week. It seems that this will end when her ex-husband cancels the contract with the company Tom works for. Kelly plans to seduce him but things don't go as planned.

Published: October 8, They go onto mixing this new found fetish with pee play with great results. Words: 7, Published: October 6, Pee Play Fun for Steve North and his Teenage Bride 52 year old Steve North and his young wife, the beautiful 18 year old blond from Latvia, explore the fetish of watersports. Anna, is curious about seeing him pee but Steve has always harboured fantasies of pee play. He cannot resist this opportunity and together they find out where it takes them. Words: 15, Published: October 5, His intentions start off pure until she awakens something inside him Gary is somehow bothered by a tramp sleeping on the streets in London and wants to help them.

They turn out to be a pretty teenage girl. Unable to send her back to the street after feeding her he takes her home with him. It very quickly becomes apparent she is a natural submissive and likes to be told what to do. Published: October 1, The story of a middle aged man and a teenage girl's love.

Steve North, aged 52, is persuaded by his best mate to try a exclusive and very expensive mail order bride company. Despite Steve's reservations things progress at a surprising pace and he suddenly finds himself married to the girl of his dreams, literally the girl of his dreams, his ultimate fantasy girl.

Words: 4, Published: September 28, Samantha, the company ball buster, is forced to have an intern.


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Todd, a very fresh faced young man, is unlucky enough to be on the top of the pile. On his first day he makes a mistake and has to suffer the punishment Samantha gives him of being striped naked. Published: September 26, She wets herself when she climaxes and she climaxes when she pees. She manages to keep this secret until the man of her dreams gets her out into the wilderness. Much to her shame and embarrassment the truth comes out, and so does his secret! Published: September 23, Love found over a massage table.

Two office colleagues who have wanted each other secretly for years finally discover they have feelings for each other while he tries to help her study for a masseuse exam. Things get very steamy on the massage table and the truth comes out about how they have felt about each other all this time.