**WARNING: 18+ material discussed**

Today I went into the sex shop I seem to be frequenting lately and decided to start on account on porn rentals. This is both good and bad. Now I feel as though I have unlimited access to porn, but I am saving money on a positive note by just renting, rather than buying porn.

I seem to be masturbaring more and more often as well. I'm estimating about 6 - 8 times a day, now. When I'm at work it's less at least, but even then sometimes I'll run off to the bathrooms and do it.

I notice that the more I delve back into my addiction the less I pay attention to my hobbies. I haven't thought about or attempted in working on my web site in weeks. I'm trying to stay active in my photography, but lately the type of photography I *want* to do is more adult themed. Haven't hit that quite yet, but I fear I'm going in that direction.

I haven't heard anything from the Sex Addicts Anonymous group. :( I may call again and leave another message, but I'm feeling pretty hopeless. I think I might join an online support group. I'm sure my boyfriend will hate it, but I'm feeling so desperate for help at this point.

Day One of the Forum

My Background:

Episode 1: As a teenager I was a professional singer. I was raised to be a rock star, basically. I wasn't famous or anything but made pretty good money. My father was a brilliant guitarist who was in the band with me. I had the best music equipment and was able to work with brilliant musicians (all much older than me). After I graduated high school I went to Berklee College of Music in Boston. When I came home for my first summer break (Lincoln, NE) my father was arrested for embezzlement. It seems that's how he was funding my music career and college. The first panic attacked I had was in 1999, shortly before my 21st birthday. My father was just sentenced to prison I did not have the money to continue school in Boston. I was quite the pot head and suddenly I had panic attacks anytime I smoked. So I did the rational thing and quit smoking weed. It worked. No more panic attacks. I lived my life as normal, working, writing, hanging out with friends. When I was 24 I decided to go back to college for something entirely different. (Before it was music, now it was ancient literature and religion). One semester in my apartment burned down and I lost everything. I had a difficult time, but in general I was fine.

I've grown quite a bit in the past few months. I've gone through PTSD which led to agoraphobia, beat my agoraphobia, gotten my driver license, got a new job, helped my boyfriend to achieve greater things.

Now I'm going to rewind to before all this happened. I'm going to explain my current situation of where I'm living, who I'm living with, why I'm living here.

In December 2011 I was severely depressed. Things with my boyfriend weren't going well, things at work weren't the best, I just felt mopey. It got to the point where anxiety had crawled out of me and was taking everything over. I couldn't handle it anymore so I decided to just commit myself to the psychiatric ward. Only, when I went in they wouldn't take me. They said someone else had to commit me and I had to be unwilling to go in.

The next best option was to go to the emergency room and see if there was any way to commit myself to the temporary, short in patient adult mental health unit. No such luck as they were full. So they took a urine sample, some blood samples, a psychologist came in to talk with me. Then they decided to give me an Ativan and send me on my way. Right when I got up to leave a nurse rushed back to say

"I don't know if anyone else told you this, but a pregnancy test came back positive for you."

I was in shock. I felt first pissed off that a doctor gave me an Ativan while knowing I was pregnant and then upset at myself for feeling suicidal and not realizing I was pregnant.

I already had my son and it was difficult to afford bringing him up as I was the only one working between my boyfriend and I. We had room mates to help out with rent, thank goodness, but there was no way I could afford another kid. I decided to go in for an abortion.

I scheduled for one asap so that I could hopefully get the medicinal abortion. Just take a pill and your done. However, there's only one clinic left in my area and they had a pretty full schedule for a while. By the time I could finally make it in, I was JUST passed the medicinal stage and now could only get the vacuum procedure. I sat in the clinic feeling scared, shaken up, upset. I read all the horrible things that could go wrong from having this procedure done. I told my boyfriend I couldn't do it. He persisted that I went through with it. I started having a panic attack and then I was called back. I told the nurse that I didn't want to have it done. She told me it was my decision and my decision alone. I left that day without an abortion. My boyfriend was majorly pissed off at me and wouldn't even talk to me for the rest of the day.

I decided since I was going to have another baby, I had to get my life in gear and fast. I stuck with the job I was unhappy at, I started going to college and I got my driver instructional permit. I thought I could handle everything and I would have both of my kids and lead my life being happy around them, doing what I wanted and loved to do.

Only things didn't go as planned...

When it became closer to my daughter's due date (August 2012) my boyfriend and I decided we had to have our room mates move out. We were staying in a small two-bedroom apartment and I felt ready to just do things on our own as a family. I wanted my son to have his own room so we could make room for our daughter. Things became really difficult financially at that point. There was back rent that hadn't been paid in so long from our room mates missing payments and my boyfriend only getting unemployment money. They moved out and left us with this burden. My boyfriend's unemployment dried up and I was the only one working, while also trying to pay my way through college and raise two kids. Eventually we couldn't handle rent anymore so we had to leave.

This is where things became much more difficult.

Not wanting us to go to a homeless shelter, my boyfriend decided we should reach out to family for help. I had spent my remaining teenage years living at my grandpa's. When I moved out he told me if I ever got pregnant I wasn't welcome back because he didn't want to "take care of anymore kids." My kids were not welcome there and with him being an alcoholic and the fights we get into when he's drunk, I really didn't want my kids there either. Also, my boyfriend wasn't allowed to stay there.

David (my boyfriend) decided to move into his sister's. The kids were able to stay there as well.

All the stress from everything that was happening overwhelmed me and made my anxiety worse to the point where I flunked out of school when I only had two classes left before completing my certification. I'm still planning on going back, but that put a slight damper on my future. Not only that, but work became a lot more difficult than it ever had been and I had to make the decision to quit for my own health and safety.

Both of us being jobless and homeless, David and I decided to try to get jobs. He didn't have internet at his sister's house to properly search for jobs. He also had no money for an type of transportation. I still couldn't have my kids at my grandpa's house. Not only that, but we were also having problems with his sister smoking spice and cigarettes in the house, effecting our kids' health. Her son was also getting mixed up wrongly with our kids (that I won't get into on here.)

We made the very difficult decision as parents... For the health, safety and happiness... To give them to his mom for a while until we got our life in order and back on track once again.

She's done wonderfully taking care of them and I can't thank her enough or ever truly repay her for everything she's done. This has by far been the most challenging thing for me. I want so badly to just wake up to my baby girl crying. For my son telling me he's woken up. I want to make snacks for my son. Listen to him laugh, teach him new words, watch him play with his toys. I want to see my baby girl smile, crawl around, babble and coo. I want to hold them and kiss them and just generally enjoy their presence, but I can't. David's mom lives a town over and though I can drive, my van is unreliable so I'm stuck being able to only drive to nearby vicinities.

There are people who take for granted being able to see their kids. There are people who don't and now I really understand what it's like to be a mom. Now I understand why people seem to change when they have kids. Things are starting to look up, they are getting better. But every day I go without seeing my kids just hurts me more. It's difficult to stand there at work and talk to costumers with kids. It's hard to ring up their purchases and see the smiles on their kids' faces and know that something as simple as what they're doing with their kids is something that I just can't do right now.