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Former Porn Star Ashley Brooks
www.myspace.com/nebula3gMy real name is April and I was raised in Southern California by a single mother, whostruggled with severe depression as far back as I can remember. She was a wonderfulwoman, but extremely troubled, and though she raised me to the best of her ability, shedealt with many issues from her past, which continued to haunt her until she died of  breast cancer in 1992.All throughout my childhood, she refused discuss much of her past with me, nor wouldshe discuss things related to sex. She told me the basics, and that was about it. I had toresearch many things on my own, which led to me having a very distorted view of sex.She treated sex as something dirty, and refused to address any questions that I had. Iremember having to look up things in the encyclopedia, and talking about things with myfriends. Not only that, but there were many other things that she would refused to discuss with me,even though they happened in front of my very eyes. For example, when I was 7 yearsold, I remember eating dinner at Denny's with her one evening. We were at the front of the restaurant, and I remember a man stumbled in, with blood gushing out from his chest,and a knife sticking out of his back. He made eye contact with me, said "I'm wounded,"and fell to the floor. I remember many people rushing to his aid, and my mother prayingvehemently for him at the table. When I asked what had happened, she replied "Don'tthink about it. Don't look. Just eat your supper. Just don't pay any attention," so I didwhat she said. She never discussed the incident with me any further, nor did I ask her to.Aside from her, I had virtually NO CONTACT with my mother's side of the family, asthey all lived in England and South Africa, where she was raised. I had very little contactwith my dad, who lived in Missouri at the time. I would go to visit him for 2 monthsduring the summer, but that was about it. This went on from the time I was 5 until I was13. He was a very cold and intimidating man. I don't ever remember him telling me thathe loved me, but I remember very well the excessive drinking and belt-whippings. He
 
was usually well-composed, but on the occasions he did get drunk, his temper wasfrightening. Basically, I HATED going to visit him, and remember calling my mother crying because I wanted to come home.Most of his family was very nice, but I never made a connection with any of them. I was basically an outsider, and hated being there. Most of them paid me little attention, but Iremember one uncle who took a special interest in me. At the time, I enjoyed theattention, because he seemed to make up for what my father lacked. I remember severalinstances when I was very young, and I would be taking a bath, he would come into the bathroom, and sit down by the tub and talk with me. I don't remember much about thoseincidents…just that he would be very playful and openly-friendly. I also remember  becoming intimidated by him after a while, but because I was afraid of my dad, Iwouldn't really talk to him about it.I vaguely remember these times, and I had my suspicions, which were confirmed when Iwas 13. I was talking to my friend about how I was afraid of the dark, but when Imasturbated at night, it would give me a sense of comfort, and would help me fall asleep.I explained to her that I wasn't sure why…I just thought it was an odd quirk that I had.She then told me that when I was 7 years old, I was crying to her one day and told her that an uncle had "touched me" while I was in the bathtub. I told her I had no recollectionof this, and she was shocked, as was I. Shortly thereafter, my mother called my father andtold him that I wouldn't be coming to visit anymore.From that point on, I had no contact with my dad. It was just myself and my mom. Then,when I was 14, my worst nightmare came true. My mother was diagnosed with breastcancer. She spent most of her time after that in and out of hospitals, and I was basicallyon my own from that point forward, both emotionally and physically. She would spendweeks at a time in the hospital, and, besides a friend who came to stay with me everyonce in a while, I was basically alone in the house. I became very depressed, but had noone to talk to. No one on my dad's side of the family knew that my mom was sick, and because I knew that she did not want them to know, I never tried to make contact.Basically, I was completely alone. I remember one Christmas in particular when my momwas in the hospital. I remember decorating the tree, and crying over my loneliness. I hadno one to talk to, and begun slipping into a deep depression. I never talked to anyoneabout my feelings, because my mom had always raised me not to bother anyone with my problems. So I didn't. The fact that I was so consumed with my mother's illness left mewith little interest in sex. I remember becoming obsessed with a few guys, but they wereall celebrities, and I remember becoming fixated on them to the point of continualobsession. I had no desire to date, though, because I was too concerned with my own problems.When my mom WAS home, she would lock herself in her room, reading her Bible, andwould barely talk to me. I understood that she was going through a lot of pain, so I lefther alone. I was always reclusive, but became even more so when this happened.
 
I became anorexic and isolated, and even when I was at my lowest weight of 99 lbs., noone ever seemed to care, or approached me about it. I would later learn that several people approached my mother, but she told them to mind their own business. By thegrace of God, I never had to seek treatment, because I came to the realization that I woulddie if this continued.Throughout the time my mom was sick, I used my schoolwork as an escape from all of my problems, so I was able to hold decent grades. I graduated high school early, withhonors, and worked a job until I went to college. Because I was raised in a Christianhome, I majored in religious studies, not so much because I wanted to, but because thiswas something that my mom wanted. Even in college, I was reclusive, and made veryfew friends. I remember several guys showing an interest in me, but because of mysituation at home, and the fact that I had been so sheltered by my mom (she never talkedto me about guys, and wouldn't let me date until I was 18), I had little interest in dating. ILOVED men, and I loved the attention that I got from them, but I had no interest indating them, or having sex. One day, my mom asked me point blank if I was a lesbian, because I didn't have a boyfriend. She wanted me to start dating, but at this point, I hadno interest.The summer after my first year in college, a friend of mine introduced me to speed. I hadnever done drugs before, and was immediately hooked. I went into it with a vengeance,and took it in mass quantities whenever I could. Not only did it keep my weight down, but it provided a powerful escape from the crap that was going on in my life. I loved it,and continued on in it, even after returning to school. I was able to hide my habit verywell, though, so no one suspected. I convinced myself that it was all under my control,and didn't have a problem. I was very good at deceiving myself like that. I figured that Ididn't need a man, because I had the drug.Then, during my junior year in college, I met the man who would be my husband. He wasfunny, smart, and outgoing, which immediately attracted me to him, because I was suchan introvert. He was very unemotional, though, and very unaffectionate, just like my dad.At the time, this wasn't a huge deal to me, because I was used to feeling unloved. I never had much affection from a man growing up, and this was no different. We dated for about6 months, then he asked me to marry him. By this time, my mother was near death, so Iagreed….not so much because I loved him, but because I was so desperately afraid of  being alone. I felt very unlovable, and was happy that someone as funny and outgoing ashim would even want to marry me. By this point, I pretty much hated myself, and wasn'tsure if anyone else would ever love me. I figured that this may be my one chance for marriage, or a fulfilling life, so I took it. I figured that, even if I was unhappy, at least Iwouldn't be alone.On my wedding day, I almost backed out, but I went through with it, anyway. Everyonewas so supportive, that I thought I was doing the right thing. As our marriage progressed,he became more distant and cold. The sex lacked any love or affection, and from the start,I hated it. It was basically just me putting everything I had into pleasing him, so that I
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