Anonymous

I was married to my own child for 21 years. I thought I was marrying my high school sweetheart, but I was actually becoming my husband's mother.

I start each day by drawing two cards for guidance, and then further consulting the deck. Last fall, tarot cards saved my life.

It was all going well . . . until the SWAT team arrived.

Seven years before I was born, my mother made a decision that would change her life—and lead to mine.

I spent seventeen years in an abusive relationship. Not only do I the physical scars to prove it, I carefully tote a heavy heap of emotional scars. Humiliation, fear, and shame were poured into my heart for years, by a person that claimed to love me - my mother.

I’ll be the first to admit that a large part of my twenties was spent in a euphoric haze brought on by fairly regular pot smoking. I loved the stuff — and it certainly loved me. I don't feel I ever had a “problem” with it, but I did feel a strong pull to have it in my life.

In my checkered past, long before I was a member of the PTA, I sometimes worked behind the scenes in X-rated films

Being a human is hard. Being a human with an eating disorder is inexplicably hard. Every time I think I have control over the situation, my eating disorder pulls a fast one on me and reminds me what is really in charge — food and exercise.

That’s part of the problem, I think. I keep waiting for my sexual partners to figure out how to bring me to orgasm.

I never imagined myself being anyone’s wife so I grieved for my single life when I got married. I began to secretly long for the life I’d left behind.