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National Adoption Day is 17 November. To adopt a child is usually a chance to change its life for the better, but this isn't always the case, as Anastasia Fox can contest. Problems from her own adoption led to rehab and life on the streets before coming out the other side a proud mother herself. Here's her story. I can’t remember how old I was when Rose and Roy told me, but from as far back as I can remember, I’ve always known I was adopted. To be fair, I don’t think I really understood what it meant. I just know that it was something that happened when I was a baby. Rose and Roy had been living in the Philippines for a few years doing some missionary work and I suppose they believed that adopting foreign children would be a good idea and make them look better to their Christian organization. Roy's from the UK and Rose is South African. They had adopted my older brother five years before me and always had the desire for a big family. When they decided to adopt another child, they took my brother with them to the orphanage and asked him who he would like as a little sister. He ran up to me and said, “This one, I want her to be my sister.” I don’t remember much about our time in the Philippines: I only have vague memories and can really only go off of photos. I spent most of my time with my nanny – who I loved dearly – and the rest of the time, I spent with our dog. We left the Philippines when I was just three and the family was moved to the UK. However, we didn’t spend much time there and very shortly after, we moved on to Canada. I don’t have many memories of speaking about adoption. I knew it upset my brother quite a bit, and maybe that’s why we never spoke more about it. He always seemed to be angry, and whenever the word “adoption” was mentioned, he would explode. I couldn’t understand that reaction, as I didn’t really have any feelings about it. On the move I can’t say I had the happiest childhood, and most of it I blocked out. I spent a lot of time alone in my closet. I couldn’t take the fighting that went on in our house. Once in a while memories come back to me, but for the most part, most of it’s a blur. When I think back now, I find it quite strange that we didn’t speak more about adoption. I don’t really remember talking about how anything made us feel. Rose and Roy always would say, “You’re too young to know how you feel.” or, “God wants us to do this, so it’s right.” And being that young, I went along with it. I figured feelings weren’t something I had the right to feel. Happier times: Anastasia, her brother and adoptive parents, Rose and Roy I didn’t notice for years that I had a different skin color to everybody else in their family. To me, we were all the same skin color. I can’t even remember the first time it was brought to my attention that my brother and I were different. It’s interesting how no one is born racist, or born judging others because they look different; it’s something that’s taught. Unfortunately, it took years in the adopted “family” for everyone to show their true colors, and see that racism is actually quite big. It ultimately became the dividing factor in their family. We did a lot of moving around when I was younger, and because they had a lot of family in South Africa, we spent a fair amount of time there as well. I don’t remember too much racism when I was younger; it wasn’t till I was older that it started to become apparent. As I mentioned earlier, as Rose and Roy are missionaries, we started moving around a lot, which meant moving countries quite often. That also meant leaving behind our friends, our animals, our schools… our whole lives. It was something that I hated so much, but I had to get used to. “I didn’t notice for years that I had a different skin color to everybody else in their family. To me, we were all the same skin color.” Deep inside I started to become angry and resentful. All I wanted was a family, a real family, and one that stayed in one place long enough to have a real life. I started to see why my brother was so angry all the time. It wasn’t just the adoption, it was the instability, the never knowing, the rejection from the family. By the time I was 11, we had been living in South America for a few years, and I was beyond miserable. I had never wanted to leave Canada, but like everything else, I was told I was too young to know how I felt about leaving everything behind. “I wanted the pain to go away” By this point, Rose and I didn’t get along whatsoever. She would get so frustrated with me for small things, and take it all out on me. She would often tell me she wished she had never adopted me, or that she isn’t surprised that I was given up for adoption. She even went as far to say that if she ever committed suicide, it would be my fault. That’s when I started really resenting the fact that I'd been adopted. Rose would always combat what she said by telling me I should be grateful to her because life in the Philippines would be a million times worse. At that point, I doubted it so much and said I would prefer to die on the streets there with my biological family than be in the same house as her. Andy, Anastasia's birth father It wasn’t till I was about 17 that my brother told me the reason Rose hated me so much. Roy had cheated on her with my nanny; the nanny I was so close to. In the end we left the Philippines because of that, but Rose and Roy decided to stay together. That’s when Rose started to take it out on me. We finally moved back to Canada after five years in Central and South America. Aside from the culture shock I went through, and the fighting at home, I didn’t want to be alive anymore. I didn’t understand what was going on in my life. I was miserable from Rose, and all I wanted was the pain to go away. I was diagnosed with PTSD at a young age, and no one knew how to help me as they had never heard of someone so young living through such violence. I kept it all inside, because the more I spoke, the worse it made it at home. I started drinking and using drugs at 13: I just wanted everything to end and constantly hearing about how I screwed up everything by being adopted didn’t help. Every day that I had to see Rose made me hate my life even more and resent the fact that I was adopted. I just wanted my mother. My real one. I didn’t care if she had no money or lived in a shack: at least I’d be able to be with her. I couldn’t understand why they gave me up. All the anger inside started to turn to rage. I started to believe everything Rose said to me; started to see myself as not good enough for anyone and that no one would ever want me. But in the same breath, I wouldn’t say anything because she always told me that I should just be grateful. But for what exactly? “Every day that I had to see Rose made me hate my life even more and resent the fact that I was adopted. I just wanted my mother. My real one.” I can’t remember how old I was the first time Rose and Roy went back to the Philippines, or if it was that they contacted the orphanage I was from and they were sent information. Either way, I remember one day being handed some papers with no explanation, no talking about how I felt. It was all the information on my biological family. It broke my heart once again and left me with even more questions than before. My 'real' family My biological parents are Andy Rumeral and Susan Miguel. They had me when they were really young. My dad was 13 and my mum was 15. They had seven kids together and then my mum left my dad, married someone else, and had four more children. My sister Sandy and I, we’re the oldest. It really hurt me a lot when I saw that I had a twin sister, and that I was the one given up for adoption. Why me? Why didn’t they keep us both? Why did they keep having babies after us? Why wasn’t I good enough to stay? The paper had all our names and birthdates on it. Things kind of went downhill from there. I would obsess about my family. Every time Rose would say something to me, I would bite my tongue, and inside I would scream at my biological mum for leaving me. I guess it was true; not even my mum wanted me and that piece of paper was proof. I was kicked out of Roy and Roses’ house when I was 16 and for the next year it was a bit of a tornado. I moved in for a short amount of time with my then boyfriend. Things were really great when I wasn’t living with him, and when I moved into his place, life did a complete 180. He turned into the biggest monster I had ever met. All of a sudden my nightmares became a reality. I just wanted out, but had nowhere to go. Roy would come and pick me up once in a while and it was as if he had turned a blind eye. I clearly had bruises and black eyes, and he would never bat an eyelash. It was as if he didn’t want to be confronted with reality, so I played along. “It really hurt me a lot when I saw that I had a twin sister, and that I was the one given up for adoption. Why me? Why didn’t they keep us both?” Eventually the beatings and raping from my boyfriend became too much for me. By this point he'd threatened my life a few times and I was so afraid I just left. I couldn’t go back to Rose and Roy’s house as they didn’t want me there, so the next few months became living for myself. Life on the streets... and pregnant I bounced around from various shelters, to the street. I would usually stay the amount of time allowed in a shelter, sleep on the street a few nights, go to another shelter and so on. I met a lot of different people in that time: there were a lot of really difficult times, but there were also a lot of really happy times. When you have nothing, you have nothing to lose (or so I thought). Roy told me years later he didn’t mind me living on the street, because at least he knew he could always find me. He would make it a point to find me once a week for food. Other than that I relied on busking, dumpster diving, and shelters. In fact, it was while living on the street that I found out I was pregnant. Not what I imagined or what I hoped for. I realised I had to get off the street, but had nowhere to go. How could I have a baby? I was only 16 and on the run from my ex. The police had been involved various times but they couldn’t do much, and as I lived on the street, there wasn’t too much they could do to protect me. I was always asked why I didn’t have an abortion or put my baby up for adoption. Both options had gone through my mind. I did have an abortion booked, but when they did the ultrasound to see how far along I was, I saw my baby on the screen. I could see this little alien-looking bean moving around; I could see the form of fingers and toes. I couldn’t go through with it. Susan: Anastasia's birth mother I then looked into the option of adoption. I had the family picked out, and the paperwork ready. The day I went to sign the last bit of paperwork, the lady at the centre asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. She knew what I had gone through and my feelings of being adopted. She told me that ultimately it was my choice but that she wanted to make sure that I was really positive this is what I wanted to do. She left the room for a minute and left me sitting there. How could I do this to my child? Did I really want her to feel what I felt? It isn’t her fault. I ripped up the paperwork and walked out. I knew I had to change my life, but there was a part of me didn’t really care. Becoming a mum I was usually on the run from the father of my child, and was still using quite a lot of drugs and drinking heavily. It seemed to make my situation better. I lived on the streets and in shelters until I was about seven months pregnant. The government eventually housed me. It wasn’t till I was about eight months pregnant that I decided to get clean. By that point my doctor had told me I needed to brace myself for a child with disabilities. I gave birth on 8 November 8, 2001, to a very healthy baby girl. She far surpassed the doctors’ expectations. But I can’t say that I was thrilled. I was only 16; still a child myself. Being a mum to my daughter wasn’t easy at all. I had never wanted children, I didn’t see the point in having them. And as my daughter was a result of rape, I didn’t bond with her. Every time I looked at her, I saw him. It took me years to see her as a true gift. I tried hard to love her, and when I really struggled, I would remember what I felt like being rejected by my parents, and that would help me a bit more. “How could I do this to my child? Did I really want her to feel what I felt? It isn’t her fault. I ripped up the paperwork and walked out.” When I was 18, I gave birth to my other daughter. I didn’t even know how to be a mother, I didn’t even know what a mother was. To me, a mother, was someone that rejected her children, or told them ugly things and made them feel unwanted. Did I want that for my children? Did I even deserve to have children? These are questions that have haunted me for years. Not so much anymore, but definitely as I was growing up with my kids. I still don’t fully understand what a mother is, and perhaps I never will. Adoption: my 'real' family revealed It wasn’t till I was 18 that my adopted parents went back to the Philippines. They'd asked me before they left if I wanted to find out more info about my family. I told them it wasn’t necessary but if they happened to find anything out, that was fine too. They came back with an envelope, handed it to me and left. It had a letter from my natural dad, photos of my parents, my brothers and sisters, and an address of a family member that lived in the US. I can’t explain what went through my head as I was looking through the photos. I was a part of her and a part of him, and yet I knew nothing about them. There in front of me, were photos of my brothers and sisters, all together. Why were they all together, and I was on the other side of the world? I stared at those photos for hours, so much went through my head. I don’t think I even cried, I was just so amazed and yet disgusted. Anastasia and her two daughters, Mariah and Thalya Rayne I saw the letter from my dad: yellow paper with green lines and messy handwriting. I had waited for this my whole life. I finally had something in my hands from my dad. It took me a few days to open it. I was terrified of what I might read inside. When I finally did, I think I started crying even before starting it. “My daughter…” that’s how it started. How could he call me his daughter? He didn’t even know me. He was the one that gave me up. YOU GAVE ME UP, YOU CAN’T CALL ME YOUR DAUGHTER NOW. He spoke about how he regretted giving me away, how it was my mother who did it, how he would do anything to have me back. He said he'd been looking for me for years, but didn’t know where to search. All he knew was that I had been adopted into a white family and left for a better life. A better life? How would you know? You don’t know what it’s been like. You can’t act like all of a sudden I matter to you. He asked me about my life, about my children, about my adopted “parents”. He just kept telling me he loved me and asking me for forgiveness. How does that work? I don’t even know you, you can’t suddenly come into my life and write me all these things and think it’s going to be better. I hate you. He'd left his address and also a contact for one of my cousins in the Philippines. He said that my cousin was the one that wrote most of the letter as my dad doesn’t speak much English. I didn’t do anything for about a year, I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how to feel. I was so hurt by this point. I finally worked up enough courage to get ahold of my cousin. It all happened fairly quickly. It seemed like one day he was just a man I knew I was apart of, and the next day, I was waiting to speak to him for the first time. This was way back when we had Yahoo messenger for video calling. Meeting dad I’ll never forget that day. It was about 02:00 a.m. in Canada. Everyone had gone to bed and I didn’t want to turn on my webcam. I knew on the other side was Andy, the man that was biologically my father. I took a deep breathe, closed my eyes and turned it on. When I opened them, there he was. He had a big smile on his face and eyes filled with tears. “My daughter” was the first thing out of his mouth. I didn’t move a muscle: I don’t think I even took a breath. There he was. I had waited 20 years, and there he was. My cousin was sitting beside him and I don’t think he knew what to say either. My dad just started to say “I love you, I love you, my daughter, Rodelia.” He kept calling me my birth name, which makes sense, as he had no idea they had changed my name. It was a really powerful experience. I had no idea what to say; I didn’t want to say anything, I just wanted to stare at him and for him to speak to me. I just wanted to hear his voice. I didn’t care that he couldn’t speak English. I just wanted my dad to hold me. The video chats became a weekly thing. I would chose a couple of nights a week, and “speak” with my dad and cousin online. Most of the time it was just me sitting there crying, and staring at him, but it was just the fact that he was there, and I could see him. Sandy: the twin sister Anastasia had trouble forgiving However, I was also drinking a lot at this time. I loved seeing him, but also hated it. I felt dead inside. This went on for about six months. I thought I was coping well with it. And then one day, I exploded. What the hell was this? He can’t be out of my life for 20 years and then just suddenly come into it and think this is all OK. That’s not how it works. And just as quickly as it started, I ended it. I didn’t want to talk to them anymore. I didn’t want to hear anything about him. Any of them. I tried to block it all out, and for years I wouldn’t speak of them. I suddenly understood why my brother was always so angry. I started drinking a lot and taking opiods. Anything to numb how I felt inside. Almost everything I did, I was completely high. In my head, I was a better mother while high. I would laugh more and didn’t feel so dead inside. My life became consumed with numbing the pain I felt. I gave my children everything. I didn’t want them to know what it was like to feel like I felt. I gave them everything, except a lot of affection. I loved my children, I gave them hugs, I cuddled them, but from a distance. I didn’t baby them. “He can't be out of my life for 20 years and then just suddenly come into it and think this is all OK. That's not how this works.” Eventually my niece and my partner’s son was also living with us. We had a full house of children: exactly what I didn’t want in life. As hard as it was, I gave all those children the love I felt I never had. But how could I, if I didn’t love myself? After a year of all these children, I eventually gave my niece back to my brother, and my step son went back to his mother. I really struggled as a mother. I loved my children, and always made sure to tell them that, but I didn’t know how to love. Addiction, rehab and mum I struggled with addiction for years. It eventually got so bad that I went to rehab. My body had become so physically dependent on alcohol, my organs were failing, and I was drinking to die. I prayed that every sip I took would kill me, that I wouldn’t wake up. And every time I would wake up, I would be so angry. My doctors had already told me when I was 20 that I wouldn’t live to see 30 if I didn’t get my addiction under control… but I didn’t care. I wanted the pain to end. What would it matter anyways? Rehab helped change my life. If it wasn’t for that one year away, I wouldn’t be alive today. It was by far the hardest year of my life, but so worth it. It took a few years even after rehab to be “OK” with being sober. When I was about 28, I had another life-changing event. It was early in the morning and my phone kept going off. It was notifications from Facebook. I didn’t recognize the name, and logged on. All I remember reading was “sis, it’s me, your younger sis. I’m with mom. She want say hi [sic].” I froze. Who are you? What do you mean, you’re my sister? When I looked at her photo, I recognized her from the photos I had. I responded right away and said I wanted to speak to my mom. She said OK and gave me her Skype name. “My body had become so physically dependent on alcohol, my organs were failing, and I was drinking to die.” I sat on my bed in the dark. I called my partner and told him I was about to speak with my mum for the first time and that I was scared. I sat in my bed, crying, for about half an hour before turning on my computer. This again. I had been waiting for this moment for 28 years. I turned on my camera and waited for hers to come on. When it finally came on, there were about 15 people sitting down, all smiling and waving at me: I knew none of them were my mom. And then suddenly I saw her. She was sitting in the middle of everyone. Not smiling, not waving, just sitting there. I burst into tears, and so did she. I just said, “Mama, I need you.” I didn’t care that she couldn’t speak English. She was my mother. She was the woman that could make everything all better. She just kept saying “I love you, I’m so sorry. I love you.” And then I just started asking her “WHY?” WHY ME?” “WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?” Rhea: Anastasia's little sister My little sister then had to step in and translate for me. The first thing she asked me was if I had seen my adoption papers. I said I had. She said that she never signed them, that she didn’t know about the adoption until I was already in the orphanage and someone else wanted to adopt me. She told me to look and tell me if her signature was there, or if it was a fingerprint. I already knew it was a fingerprint. It was his fingerprint. She said that on the third piece of paper, it’ll show that she didn’t know about the adoption until a few months later. My parents hadn’t been living together, and my mum was in and out of the hospital, so it was quite normal for things like this to happen. Quite normal? I don’t know what it was inside of me that told me she was telling the truth. But somehow her story made a lot more sense then the one my dad had told me. I stared at my mum on the screen for about two hours. Just listened to her sing to me. Ask me questions. Look at me. This was my mum. The lady that gave me life. The lady I loved, and yet didn’t know why. The lady I also blamed for not knowing how to love my own children. The lady that brought me into this world, but also felt like she took my life from me. She eventually had to go, and we hung up. That was the last time I spoke to her. I sat there completely numb. I didn’t know how to feel at this point. I couldn’t numb myself even more with any kind of substance. Like most things, I put it to the side, and kept on going. I don’t know why that was the last time I spoke to my mom. I wasn’t angry at her. I was extremely hurt. It brought up even more questions, but I didn’t feel towards her like I do with my dad. “I stared at my mum on the screen for about two hours. Just listened to her sing to me. Ask me questions. Look at me. This was my mum. The lady that gave me life. The lady I loved, and yet didn’t know why.” I often think about her, all of them. Most of my biological family don’t accept me as one of their own. They all know that I was adopted into a white family, and so to them, I’m a bank account. Ironic how I was adopted into a racist white family, and my biological family doesn’t see me as family as I was adopted into a white family. Adoption: forgiveness and healing It wasn’t until I was 31 that I met Lilly Pretorius. I was in South Africa for an emergency and needed somewhere to stay. She took me in under her wing, and for three weeks stood by my side. She stood up against my adopted “parents” and fought with me. Lily became my mother; she became the woman that finally loved me for who I was, and cared for me without there being stipulations. She finally gave me unconditional love. We have spoken many times about finding a way for her to legally adopt me. Until that day, I’m just blessed to have her in my life. I’m grateful for the love she shows me and to be able to fall back on her. I never in a million years expected to have a mother figure like her. I felt like I had one more step in leaving that part of my life behind. I legally changed my name, realizing I didn’t want to have anything to do with Rose and Roy. I wanted my life to be filled with positivity. I was tired of always being told I needed help, that I was exaggerating, that it was always in God's plan. I was tired of the arguing, and feeling worthless. The day I received my new passport with my new name was one of the best days of my life. It was like a dark chapter had finally closed, and life, my life, could really begin. They were gone. I’ve had to learn to forgive my biological parents for what I felt was abandonment. I don’t know if I’ll ever know the real reason why or who actually made the decision. In some ways I’d prefer to just think they both genuinely had my best interest at heart, but that would be living a lie. I’ve had to learn to be thankful for the life they gave me, and the opportunities I have had. Without them, I wouldn’t be alive today. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to help others. I’ve had to forgive my biological family for not accepting me as one of their own. We share the same DNA and features, yet because I was adopted into a white family, I am not considered one of them. I’ve had to forgive my brothers and sisters for being a family, having one another, and having what I’ve always wanted. I had to work through that resentment I’ve held against them all this time, one that they’ve had no idea about. For years they wished they were me; thinking I had it all, that I’m happy, that I have lots of money, and a great life. In reality, they had no idea what I went through and what I felt all these years without them. “The day I received my new passport with my new name was one of the best days of my life. It was like a dark chapter had finally closed, and life, my life, could really begin.” I’ve had to learn to forgive my twin sister for being the one they chose to keep and living a life that she may consider poor and disgraceful. I’ve had to learn to be thankful that I have a sister, and not just one, but many. I’ve had to be grateful that after all these years I was able to speak with her and know more about her and her life. I’ve had to forgive my mum and Rose for not teaching me or showing me a mother’s love. I never knew how to be a mom; I didn’t want to be one. My children both know that I’d do anything for them but that I didn’t find motherhood or parenthood easy. They know that I won’t ever stop fighting for them. They know I love them, I don’t always show it the same way a typical mother might, but I show them in ways they understand. I know I’m by far a great mother, but my kids know that I’ll be there for them, no matter what. I wasn’t a natural born mother, but I was born to be a mother to them. I’ve had to learn to forgive my dad for giving me away. I’ve had to forgive him for not being that father figure I wanted and needed. I had to forgive him for not being there for me and doing what fathers do with their little girls. I wish he would have warned me about boys, about life, things every little girl wants from her dad. I’ve had to forgive Roy for being too much like my best friend and not enough like a dad, for never saying ‘no’, and not setting any boundaries. I’ve had to forgive him for cheating on Rose and her taking her anger out on me. I’ve had to forgive him for not believing me when I needed him the most, and for leaving me in situations that a father should be there for his daughter. I’ve had to forgive him for letting me do what I want, when I wanted, and instead of telling me something wasn’t right, encouraging me to keep going. And, finally, I’ve had to forgive myself for not letting myself be happy, loved, and free. ● Written by Anastasia Fox Anastasia Fox is a Barcelona-based freelancer with a passion for life and a willingness to help others.

Where does happiness come from? James Holloway suggests that ancient philosophers such as Epicurus, Plato and Herodotus may hold some of the answers. We spend a lot of time and effort trying to make ourselves happy, but we hardly ever think about what happiness actually is. Is it a situation? A state of mind? A spiritual experience? Well, if anyone would know, it'd be the wisest philosophers of the ancient world, right? Well, not exactly. We'd all like to think that some ancient sage somewhere in the history of happiness had the secret completely figured out. A thorough reading of philosophical writings, however, can just leave you more confused than when you started. Some philosophers defined happiness as meaning something different than we would with our current set of ideals. While others had some rather unusual ideas about how to achieve it. The history of happiness: Epicurus Let's start with one of the later Greek philosophers, Epicurus. Probably no thinker has had his name more misused than poor old Epicurus. Today, when we call someone an Epicurean or an epicure, we mean that they love to eat, drink and live well. Ironically, that's exactly the sort of claim that Epicurus' followers spent a lot of time defending themselves against. The reason for this misconception stems from Epicurus' understanding of the relationship between happiness and morality. For the Epicureans, the senses were a guide to life: if something felt good, that was a sign you should do it. If it felt bad, it should be avoided. Epicurus: eat, play and be happy! © Eric Gaba/Sting Sounds like a simple code! But not so fast. While this might sound like a simple – and mostly harmless – rule to follow, Epicurus' teachings had a lot of critics. They objected to the principle of hedonism, which they said was a quick pathway to immoral behaviour. Hedonism being defined as the pursuit of pleasure or self-indulgence. It has various interpretations, mainly of the immoral persuasion. “If it feels good, do it?” What if what felt good was just lying around all day getting drunk? These critics caricatured the Epicureans as pleasure-obsessed brutes who ignored the idea of a higher, spiritual happiness. Nothing could be further from the truth. Epicureans, in turn, vigorously denied that they were any such things. Instead, Epicurus and his followers claimed that feeling good was about more than getting drunk and having sex. They derived that genuine happiness came from the absence of worry and stress. A condition they called ataraxia. And how do you achieve ataraxia? The secret is summed up in the tetrapharmakos, the “four-fold cure.” Don't fear God Don't worry about death What is good is easy to get What is terrible is easy to endure “For the Epicureans, the senses were a guide to life. If something felt good, that was a sign you should do it. If it felt bad, it should be avoided.” So, how do you achieve this? Obviously, by studying physics. Come again? It might seem like a weird answer, but it's the real deal, at least according to Epicurean philosopher Diogenes of Oinoanda. According to Diogenes – and from what we can reconstruct of Epicurus' teachings, which we mostly know from Diogenes. Many people are unhappy because they worry about evil omens and other supernatural phenomena. They worry about things that are in fact not real. Unproven by science and logic. If they all would just sit down and study science they would learn that those things aren't real. They'd soon be on their way to a worry-free and happy existence. So, there you have it. Follow your senses. Insofar as your senses lead you to a scientific understanding of the universe that you live in. On your quest for knowledge, I wouldn't necessarily recommend going to Epicurus for that scientific understanding, though. Since he seems to have believed that your brain was in your chest. A common belief at the time. He also recommended that you avoid physical pain. A piece of advice you probably don't need a philosopher for. So, perhaps Epicurus isn't the right guy to go to for advice on happiness. What about other great ancient philosophers? What about Plato? Well, remember all those philosophical critics who were lighting up Epicurus for the alleged immorality of his philosophy? They might have had a little more time for Plato's argument. If hedonism was the indulgence of only one thing: pleasure, Plato's idea had a far better ring to it for these critics. For Plato, being happy meant having a balanced personality: wise, brave, just and moderate. Above all, you had to be self-controlled. Athenian society of the era cared so much about self-control that they viewed people who liked seafood too much the way we view drug addicts. Too much desire for the pleasures in life – wine, sex and fish – was the sign of a disordered mind, a person more devoted to pleasure than happiness. Plato on happiness: Self-control and wisdom led to happiness © Bibi Saint-Pol Plato believed that you couldn't be happy without first being good. Which may be true, but it's harder to argue that all good people are necessarily happy, isn't it? How do you rate that? For Plato and his student Aristotle, virtue is central to happiness. And if you were really and truly virtuous you'd be able to deal with your misfortunes and stay happy. Thanks to your self-control. Make sense? “Too much desire for the pleasures in life – wine, sex and fish – was the sign of a disordered mind, a person more devoted to pleasure than happiness.” Herodotus: the father of history If a life of virtue and self-discipline doesn't sound like your ideal road to happiness. maybe some other Greek authors have a better option for us. Let's see what Herodotus, had to say on the subject of happiness. In a story about the great Greek lawmaker Solon, Herodotus puts this sentiment into his mouth. “If besides all this he ends his life well, then he is the one whom you seek, the one worthy to be called fortunate.” Many translations use “happy” instead of “fortunate,” and that's what leads most people to summarise this one as “call no man happy until he is dead.” According to Herodotus, you're not happy until you've passed a happy life and then died a happy death. Herodotus: Happiness lies in death © Wienwiki/Walter Maderbacher So, what can we learn from how ancient philosophers approached the idea of happiness? Well, on the surface it doesn't sound great. Leaving out Herodotus' grim dictum, everyone else seems to agree that happiness is ultimately internal. Something that comes from cultivating the right attitude toward the challenges life hits us with. And that's not surprising: the ancient world was a dangerous place. Disease, war and political unrest were common features of the landscape. Relying on the quality of your surroundings to make you happy was just asking to be disappointed. Cultivating a calm, realistic, balanced outlook – no matter how difficult that might sound – was a far safer bet. And even in a world where we're not as likely to suddenly perish of a disease no one can identify, get speared by the invading Persians or be turned into an animal by a jealous god, that might not be such bad advice after all. ● © Main image: Ingram Image Written by James Holloway James Holloway is a historian and freelancer writer living in Cambridge. In addition to teaching about all the usual kings-battles-and-inventions stuff, he spends his spare time researching and writing about the stranger corners of history, from forgotten holidays to quack medicines to werewolves.

Happiness, hope and positive news may seem to have been in short supply during the month of July, when so many negative news items were presented. In fact, July was a great month for positivity and human endeavour. Ed Gould shares his top ten news stories that you may have missed, that will bring some hope and a smile to your face. 1. Smaller Solar Panels Offer a Breakthrough in Renewable Energy According to the scientific journal Nature Communications, renewable forms of electricity will receive a boost in the future thanks to a new type of book-sized solar panel that has been developed. The makers claim that something the size of an average hardback will now be enough to provide enough energy to power a home. The way the technology works is to ‘funnel’ more of the sun’s rays and convert more light into electricity, which can be stored locally in the form of fuel cells or batteries. An atomically thin semiconductor of hafnium disulphide makes this possible, allowing for up to three times more energy to be converted by each panel. 2. Domestic Abuse Sufferers to Receive Paid Leave Maternity leave has been an important right in many countries for years. New Zealand has now become the second place on the planet to introduce a similar scheme for domestic abuse victims – the Philippines already has one. As widely reported in the press in July, the New Zealand’s Prime Minister pushed for a change in the law concerning women who were escaping violence and ensured that they continued to receive pay, even if they were unable to work as usual. The change came following a vote of 63 to 57 in favour of the proposal. 3. India Adds Happiness Classes to the Curriculum Happiness is definitely something that can be taught, and the public education system in India agrees. Indeed, a number of schools across the country have begun lessons in how to be happy. This positive news was reported as happening in several schools by news outlets like CNN. In fact, over 1,000 schools are now said to be participating in the scheme, which will focus on tips to be more mindful and how to relax in order to bring about greater joy in the classroom. The smiles say it all: kids in some Indian schools are now getting classes in happiness 4. New Treatment for Alzheimer's Disease Prompts Hope An experimental drug therapy has been found to promote fewer clusters of proteins in the brain. These harmful toxin clusters are known to be linked to the condition in some way. According to The New York Times, the novel treatment is able to make a difference of up to 70 per cent, with these clusters compared to no action being taken at all. This is positive news for anyone who has a family member with the disease. However, the treatment is only at the trial stage and not yet available on the market. 5. Public Art Designed for Visually-Impaired People Introduced Some public art that comes in the form of sculpture has been great for blind and non-blind people alike. However, paintings and murals have often left vision impaired people behind. But that’s not the case in Santiago – the capital city of Chile. Here, the public art has been given a new twist by adding grooves and raised bumps, which make the images accessible to all. The city's authorities introduced a wide range of art designed for visually-impaired people in July, as reported by the likes of Euro News. 6. Research Says Showing Appreciation is Good For Everyone Saying 'thank you' may be polite and shows courtesy to the person being thanked. Nevertheless, gratitude and appreciation - however you choose to do - is also good for the person showing it. In a paper published in Psychological Science, research was conducted with thousands of volunteers who emailed someone they knew to show appreciation. Both parties were subsequently found to have higher levels of well-being as a result of the exercise, in some cases to the complete surprise of the people taking part in the study. Say 'thank you' and boost your well-being, as well as the person you're thanking! 7. Recycled Waste Can Be Used to Make Public Spaces Public realm spaces, like squares and parkland, can now be made from nothing more than recycled waste. As reported in July by Inhabitat, the Dutch Ministry of Infrastructure and Environment has successfully built a modular floating island from the everyday rubbish that is found floating in the rivers and canal waters close to Rotterdam. The authorities sponsored a scheme to create a floating island along with 25 other partners in the area to create a park from river waste. The rubbish is collected by traps in the waterways to prevent it heading out to sea and put to good use by turning it into something useful. 8. Wooden Tyres Reinvent the Wheel Wooden tyres may sound like heading back to the days of the horse and cart, but tyre manufacturers are now looking at making their products from wood pulp rather than oil. The eco-initiative has been spearheaded by the French company Michelin, according to WhichCar magazine. The idea is to replace an unsustainable raw material in the form of rubber compounds with one that can be grown in a managed way for future consumption. 9. Humanist Weddings More Popular Than Ever The Times reported that humanist wedding ceremonies in Scotland overtook those conducted by the Kirk (church) for the first time. In a study that included figures up to the end of July, it was found that humanism outstripped traditional Christian services, something that had never been seen before in the country. In positive news for those who favour non-religious ceremonies, it’s thought that humanist services will continue to rise. Humanist weddings have only been legal in Scotland since 2005. Scots are now more likely to have a humanist wedding than a traditional church affair 10. Science Says Meditation Is Good for Work As reported by Forbes in July, uninterrupted work is enabled through three main techniques. One of these is the ability to listen to instrumental music when you are hard at it. Indeed, any deskbound work is actually improved by it. Secondly, splitting work up into single tasks of 15 minutes or so has been found to work for most people's long-term productivity. The third idea stems from clearing your mind prior to getting down to work. This is where meditation kicks in. According to Forbes, even people who are new to meditative approaches can benefit from a few minutes of mindful exhalation prior to their work for the day. ● Written by Ed Gould Ed Gould is a UK-based journalist and freelance writer. He is a practitioner of Reiki.

It's all too easy to snap at our friends and family when they upset us, but by practising nonviolent communication (NVC), Arlo Laibowitz argues that we can make our communication friendlier and ourselves happier. "Hi! Sorry, I’m late." – "You are always late and unreliable!" – "Oh really?! That’s because you want to meet at impossible hours!" – "Why do I even try to be on time?! You egoist!!" – "I hate you!" – "I hate you more!” Personal relationships contribute to our happiness. But sometimes things can go wrong: we say and do things that create conflict between our loved ones and us. Well, there's a way to avoid or resolve conflicts, developed by psychologist Marshall Rosenberg. It's called nonviolent communication or NVC. How does this method work, and how does it help us to be happier in our relationships? Watch the video on nonviolent communication: "I care." "I'm concerned." "I understand." “I sympathise.” .embed-container { position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%; height: 0; overflow: hidden; max-width: 100%; } .embed-container iframe, .embed-container object, .embed-container embed { position: absolute; top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; } Nonviolent communication and compassion Nonviolent communication is based on the idea that we all have the capacity for compassion, and that we only use violence or harmful behaviour when we don’t have a more effective way to meet our needs. Nonviolent communication tries to find a way for everyone to get what matters, without the use of coercive or manipulative language. "I want to be loved." "I want to show I feel with you." "I want to be seen.“ “I want to be happy" Three aspects of communication Nonviolent communication focuses on three aspects of communication: self-empathy (awareness of your own experience) empathy (understanding of the other with your heart) honest self-expression (expression that inspires compassion in others) Practitioners of NVC focus in their communication on four aspects: Observation What are you seeing, hearing or touching, without evaluating or judging? Feelings What are your emotions, without thoughts or stories added? Needs What do you desire, without thinking of the strategy to get there? Requests What specific action would you like to ask, without demanding it? NVC: constructing communication The components of nonviolent communication work together. A typical nonviolent communication way of expressing something would be: When you do A [observation] ... … I feel B [feelings] ... … because I want C [needs] ... … I would appreciate it if you would be willing to do D [request]. For example, “When you are late, I feel neglected, because I want to use my time well. I would appreciate it if you could let me know when you’re running late.” Nonviolent communication is useful for connecting with others and living in a way that is conscious, present, and in tune. And that, in the end, makes up all happier! ● happiness.com | The fine art of being: learn, practise, share Are you a happiness.com member? Sign up for free now to enjoy: ■ our happiness magazine with practical life tips ■ share and support others in our happiness forum ■ self-develop with free online classes in our happiness Academy Anger management | Resilience | Leadership Written by Arlo Laibowitz Arlo is a filmmaker, artist, lecturer, and intermittent practitioner of metta meditation and morning yoga. When not dreaming about impossible projects and making them happen in the most impractical ways possible, he journals, listens to jazz, or cuddles with his better half.

After growing up in a household where sex was shamed, discovering BDSM helped Sienna Saint-Cyr to find self-acceptance and enjoyment when it came to her sexual life. Coming to grips with being kinky when you've been raised in a religious or very conservative household isn't easy. When sex is shamed, let alone any exploration outside of missionary style intercourse, finding out even what's hot can be a challenge. Yet most of the kinkiest people I know have come from these sorts of family and societal dynamics. Indeed, many find self-acceptance through BDSM. So, you’re kinky, now what? You can explore without jumping right in. One thing that helped me — though my fear of exploration came from being abused — was with reading stories and seeing if they turned me on. This meant I explored a lot of topics. Some were more dominant/submissive related, others were about rough sex, some were about bondage... then there’s fetishes… I explored many areas and found that most of them were hot for me in some way or another. Though I didn't always know why they why did appeal to me, they just did. “When sex is shamed, let alone any exploration outside of missionary style intercourse, finding out even what's hot can be a challenge.” I did a lot of reading of both fiction and non-fiction books. Both are important because as I read the fiction and found it hot, a lot of it wasn't realistic. Therefore, the non-fiction came in to explain how things should really happen. It was also helpful in figuring out the 'why' portion. The books that helped me most were The New Bottoming Book and The New Topping Book by Janet W. Hardy and Dossie Easton. As well as SM 101 by Jay Wiseman. For fiction, I suggest going to literotica.com, or one of the other free sites, at least in the beginning. Experimentation and exploration Once you've explored with reading (and/or movies) and are fairly certain that you want to know more, that’s when I suggest asking around. While some venues can offer introductory courses and demonstrations, I've personally found this avenue riskier in the beginning. To start with, try an internet search on kink/BDSM 'munches'. Munches are for meeting people and asking questions. No actual scenes take place. Chances are, you’ll find others there that have been raised in similar environments. Once you've met some good and trustworthy people, then find a venue to watch demos. If you take things slowly and gradually lower into kinky waters, you’re going to have an easier time adjusting and backing out if you feel overwhelmed. When we've been taught — or even brainwashed — to believe that enjoying ourselves sexually is sinful or inappropriate, we have to face our shame and guilt eventually. This is why talking to others that have been through similar situations is helpful. Because this kind of shame and guilt is nonsense and serves no purpose other than to make us feel bad. Open minds lead to self-acceptance Owning who we are is beautiful, and accepting ourselves divine in its own right. So, try not to judge yourself. Instead, remain open to what you feel based on the things you read, discuss, and later witness or take part in. Accepting ourselves means we get to experience a level of joy free of the guilt and shame we’d walked around with previously. This isn't limited to our sexual exploration but can also apply to all areas of our lives. “Owning who we are is beautiful, and accepting ourselves divine in its own right. So, try not to judge yourself. Instead, remain open to what you feel.” When we accept our kinky side and find self-acceptance, it means we get to be conscious about our choices rather than have that side sneak out in non-consensual ways. We get to express ourselves without judgement, have better sex, and more fun. In my experience, I've found almost everyone is kinky in some way. So, be brave, explore, and experience the joy that comes with accepting and loving who you are! And always remember: listen to yourself, explore, and know that it's OK to change your mind at anytime. ● Main image: Colourbox.com Written by Sienna Saint-Cyr Sienna Saint-Cyr is an author, advocate, and the founder of SinCyr Publishing. She speaks at conventions, workshops, and for private gatherings on the importance of having a healthy body image, understanding enthusiastic consent, using sexuality to promote healing, navigating diverse or non-traditional relationships, having Complex PTSD, and more. Sienna loves sharing her journey of healing and finding happiness with her readers. Along with writing erotica and romance, Sienna speaks at conventions, workshops, and for private gatherings on such sex-positive topics as a healthy body image, using sexuality to promote healing, and navigating diverse or non-traditional relationships. She writes for several websites. Find out more at https://siennasaintcyr.wordpress.com/.

My Sexual Journey Has Taught Me Many Things Sexuality is not a black and white field. It's an abstract painting in thousands of colors. The search for happiness can sometimes lead us to places we never thought possible. This personal story of a little's sexual journey reveals a fantastic adventure in acceptance and happiness... At the beginning of my sexual journey, I knew I liked it hard and forbidden. But I didn't really experiment with it, it was the same things all the time, tying up, spanking, whipping and once in a while a slap on the cheek. I liked it but I didn't really feel satisfied, like completely satisfied. Then I met my fiancé. We'd lived on different continents and therefore the sex became a lot more verbal. We experimented and still experiment so much without or bodies even touching. Somewhere there I started sorting out what my kinks were, and which were not. When we finally met for the first time after a long time just dirty talking and sex video-caming a new kind of sexual journey started. The physical. Not until we were pretty good at each other's bodies, each other's minds we felt we were ready to take the next step. Master/slave. We made a contract and all, but we, especially he, felt a little intimidated by it, like it was too much of a commitment to drop the role-playing and live like this 24/7. In the middle of this situation my fiancé took a BDSM test, you know those that everyone is referring to on fetish communities, I was laying in bed minding my own business when he started poking me with his finger. "You've gotta read this!". It was about Daddy dom/ little girl. I read it and halfway through it was like everything got clear. This! This is what we "are". This is what we already live 24/7. Accepting our kinks From the beginning, I was totally terrified. Fetishes like that are so misconceived. But the more we talked about it and the more we realized that it wasn't that much of a choice, it's just who we are, we started living it freely. Today I feel like a little, really feel like it. I've let my princess side out more and more, which I earlier hid with tom boy clothes and not acting girly at all. Today I've let that princess in me come out and be free and I'm so happy. It wasn't that much of an acceptance, it was rather a poking it a little bit to come out and play. And the one kink that makes you feel complete, satisfied in more than the sexual aspect, go for it. I feel free, happy and unstoppable. Written by Princess EPrincess E is a Swedish freelancer who focuses on DDlg, which she's living 24/7. Most of her writings are based on her experiences with her Daddy; Mr. B. Runs a blog and can be found on Twitter.

Finding happiness isn't always as simple as opening a box labeled joy. Some people find it in the most unexpected places, like BDSM submission. Sienna Saint-Cyr shares her personal journey of overcoming a troubled past and finding her inner peace... What is happiness? It doesn’t come in a neat little package titled, “open me for joy”. So, I had no idea how to find it. As with many girls I knew growing up, my thoughts of happiness centered on marriage, having kids, and owning a charming house with a white picket fence. Happiness, according to everything I knew at this time, came in the form of having things that other people could see. Happiness was external. Yet as I got older and achieved these goals, I realized that I still wasn’t happy. And this was confusing. My whole life I heard that if I had these things, followed this plan, then everything would be OK. That I would be happy. So I got those things, followed that plan and was most definitely not happy! While I loved my husband dearly and adored my children, the problem was still there, and it wasn't going anywhere. Then I had my 'eureka' moment. I realized this whole time that I had looked outwards for happiness when I should have been looking inwards. But for me, looking inwards caused a problem... inside, I was an emotional mess. “My thoughts of happiness centered on marriage, having kids, and owning a charming house with a white picket fence.” Many years ago I’d experienced a lot of trauma and my inside was not such a happy place. Certainly, not somewhere I'd look for happiness anyway. While in therapy I actively began to deal with my diagnosis of Complex PTSD. We've all heard of soldiers coming back with PTSD, but Complex PTSD is a bit different. It generally starts earlier in life but not always. It's a trauma brought on in the form of a power dynamic struggle between the sufferer from a caregiver (or other interpersonal relationship) and is long-term. Letting go of control To cope with my pain, I kept part of me kept closed off, in order to stay safe. On the other hand, this also cut me off from being able to find joy in life. I was in a constant state of defence, sometimes known as 'fight or flight' mode. This constant state of stress was protecting me from getting better. In order to heal on a fuller and deeper scale, I needed to let down my walls. I understood what I should to do, but I’m stubborn. To be that vulnerable was scary. Not because I didn’t trust the people in my life, but because it meant letting go of my control. Staying in control is what kept me safe, or so I thought. Spelling it out: PTSD Reaching out for help After trying many different approaches and having discussions with my therapist and husband, we decided that sexual submission might be good for me. It would be a way to get me out of my comfort zone and let go of control in a safe and consensual environment. But my husband wasn’t into domination to that extent, so I began looking elsewhere. Since my husband and I are polyamorous (meaning we are in an open relationship), I ended up finding a Dom that I met through networking with others. We began talking, and soon, I was submitting to him full time. My Dom focuses on helping his submissive partners become better versions of themselves. His focus for me was about helping me be the best mom, wife, and friend I could be. While at the same time, helping me to find joy and success in life. My Dom's focus was to help me find the happiness I was missing. To help me overcome my reliance on external things for happiness. He helped me to find the inner happiness I couldn't find through all the external things I'd acquired. My Dom helped me relearn how to find internal happiness. BDSM submission as a tool Without sexual submission, I still wouldn't be happy now. Using it as a tool, I found peace. I found a more fulfilling way to love, that inner happiness I was searching for all those years. Finally, I found joy. And all through BDSM submission. By using it as a tool to heal. In handing over my control to him, I allowed myself to trust others. This external trust is what led to my growth and healing. My Dom created a safe space for me to deal with my trauma— both physically and emotionally. He helped me re-contextualize the horrible memories I had. “Without sexual submission, I still wouldn't be happy now. Using it as a tool, I found peace.” Creating new memories and contexts for the old hurtful ones was only possible through having this safe space. It wouldn’t have been possible without handing over my control to him. Complete submission meant I could get out of my head and allow someone else to take the lead. To help me process and heal. So that, in the end, I could find happiness and learn to trust in others again. This also gave me power. I was choosing to give my control to someone else. This turned things around. It became my choice to allow my Dom to be in control. Submission is a choice. It's never forced, and that is the difference between my past and now. My first steps toward happiness Taking the initial steps wasn’t easy, though. While my husband was supportive, I received a lot of judgment from someone close to me at the time. And criticism came from all around. A lot of people challenged my political beliefs. They told me I wasn’t a feminist anymore. Many claimed that what I was doing wasn’t safe. Mostly because they didn't understand what it was that we were doing. People told me that I wasn’t as powerful if I submitted. And I almost listened. I almost gave in and ran the other way. Overcoming things that certain people said was a big part of what I had to do. I also had to deal with my own self-judgment which came after. Which is often harsher than any external criticism. There were judgements coming at me from all angles. In the end, part of me finding happiness meant accepting who I am fully. A big part of who I am that brings me inner happiness, is as a submissive to my Dom. BDSM submission taught me to let go in a way that I couldn't before. It helped me to release trauma and pain so I could replace it with joy and pleasure. Submission changed my life in many positive and healing ways. It brought me the happiness I sought for so long. Submission allowed me to look inward instead of outward for my joy. I no longer fear the darkness inside me. It’s safe to look inside myself. Through BDSM submission, I’ve learned to be a more supportive and loving wife, a better mom, and a true friend. ● Main image: Colourbox.com Written by Sienna Saint-Cyr Sienna Saint-Cyr is an author, advocate, and the founder of SinCyr Publishing. She speaks at conventions, workshops, and for private gatherings on the importance of having a healthy body image, understanding enthusiastic consent, using sexuality to promote healing, navigating diverse or non-traditional relationships, having Complex PTSD, and more. Sienna loves sharing her journey of healing and finding happiness with her readers. Along with writing erotica and romance, Sienna speaks at conventions, workshops, and for private gatherings on such sex-positive topics as a healthy body image, using sexuality to promote healing, and navigating diverse or non-traditional relationships. She writes for several websites. Find out more.

When Princess E started accepting her kinks and desires through exploring her sexual journey, she was well on her way to discovering her inner happiness. As long as I can remember I've had a longing, an appetite for the darkness, for 'forbidden fruit' and the so-called bad. Maybe that's why I got into so much trouble growing up. I met shady guys who took advantage of me and became more and more destructive, until I realized that I didn't even knew who I was anymore. My journey to accepting my sexuality might be dark, but it ended with such a wonderful thing. I was jumping between men, hoping to find something I was longing for, needing, actually. Someone who as good at giving me spankings as well as giving me sweet kisses. Nothing I found was completely right for me. Instead of looking inside, deep down in my soul to find what I needed – what I was begging for, I just jumped on the next guy. Don't get me wrong; there's nothing wrong with doing that if that's your thing, but for me, it only broke me down even more. Until one day, it just clicked. The day when my fiancé came into the picture everything changed. He saw me – through my body – past all the walls that I'd built up. He saw that little girl and nurtured her, took care of her. And that was probably where our fetish for DDlg started – without us even knowing. “Nothing I found was completely right for me. Instead of looking inside, deep down in my soul to find what I needed, I just jumped on the next guy.” Mr. B, as I call him, knows the exact amount of comforting that is needed after a rough night in bed. He understands, and views it as a privilege, that I'm his sub. That I chose to submit only to him. I'd been in the BDSM lifestyle for a while before I met Mr. B. Even still, I never totally understood what aftercare meant until I met him. For the first time in my life, I lived out BDSM to please me and my man, not to let other people destroy an already broken person. Some say that you need to love yourself before you can love someone else. For me, it's the exact opposite. Someone loving me has made me look at myself in a different way. And now I'm empowered. I'm strong. And I'm proud of my sexuality. My sexual journey: accepting my kinks At the very beginning of my sexual journey I knew I liked things hard; the 'forbidden fruit' of the bedroom. But I didn't really experiment with it. It was the same thing every time: being tied up, spanked, whipped and once in a while, a slap on the cheek. I liked it, but I didn't really feel satisfied, not completely satisfied. Then I met my fiancé. We lived on different continents and therefore sex became a lot more verbal. We experimented, and still do to this day, without our bodies even touching. Somewhere along the way, I started sorting out what my kinks were, and which were not. Finding our groove... and fetish When we finally met for the first time, after a long period of long-distance dirty talk and sex-cam action, a new journey started – the physical journey. Not until we were secure in our knowledge of each other's bodies and minds did we feel that we were ready to take the next step: master/slave. We made a contract and everything. But we, especially Mr. B, felt a little intimidated by it, like it was too much of a commitment to drop the role-playing and live like this 24/7. In the middle of the situation my fiancé took the infamous 'BDSM test'. “For the first time in my life, I lived out BDSM to please me and my man, not to let other people destroy an already broken person.” I was laying in bed, minding my own business, when he started poking me with his finger. "You've gotta read this!" It was about Daddy Dom/little girl. I read it and halfway through it was like everything was suddenly clear. This! This is what we are. This is what we already live 24/7. From the beginning, I was totally terrified. Fetishes like that are so misconstrued. But the more we talked about it, the more we realized that it wasn't that much of a choice. It's just who we were, we'd started living it freely, naturally. Delicious, forbidden fruit Today I've let my princess side out more and more, which I hid earlier by wearing tom boy clothes and not acting girly at all. That princess in me has come out and is free, and now I'm so happy. It wasn't that much to overcome. It was more like poking at it a bit to come out and play. And if there's one kink that makes you feel complete, makes you feel satisfied in more than the sexual aspect, go for it. After accepting my sexuality I feel free, happy and unstoppable. ● Main image: Colorbox.com Written by Princess E Princess E is a Swedish freelancer who focuses on DDlg, which she's living 24/7. Most of her writings are based on her experiences with her Daddy; Mr. B. Runs a blog and can be found on Twitter.