My Secret History

BEFORE WE BEGIN: What follows is my personal story. Nothing more. I have no crusades to fight or minds to change. I have no desire to disrupt anyone’s beliefs and I’m not doing this to initiate debates or arguments. I am not — nor will I ever be — a firebreather.

If you believe in God, or spirituality, or the afterlife, or politics, or whatever… That’s beautiful. I respect you and your freedom to believe whatever you want. I kindly ask for the same respect in return.

Secret Shame: The Rise & Fall of Amy Lockheart

Let’s Begin with some Fast Facts:

  • I was born into a very conservative Christian family.
  • My dad was a Baptist minister.
  • We were devout, dedicated, and honest in our faith.
  • We served the community and fed/sheltered the homeless.
  • We firmly believed Christ was guiding *every aspect* of our lives.
  • And these ultra-conservative beliefs required us to avoid secular TV shows, music, movies, and all forms of sin.

Quick example: We had an ancient VHS player (the top-loading kind), and we were restricted to Christian-based programs. I remember one was called “Hells Bells” and though it was badly outdated, it was designed to scare the shit out of kids like me so we wouldn’t listen to rock music. Today, the documentary is available on YouTube, but I particularly like this video, which lampoons it.

So anyway, by the time I turned 18, I knew very little about the real world, and almost nothing about sex. My family *never* used that dirty three-letter word.

Sex was entirely off-limits.

Naturally, I developed all kinds of strange feelings (and even phobias) about sex. Of course, I was curious… Wildly curious! But like all those forbidden TV shows, movies, and non-Christian music artists… sex was sinful and to be avoided at all costs.

Despite that, I had urges like everyone else, and I masturbated a few times throughout my teenage years. I enjoyed the feeling, but guilt and shame always haunted me afterward.

I’m talking severe, internal turmoil that lingered for weeks, because the Christian threat of damnation and eternal Hell — even for the slightest missteps — was real and terrifying to me.

So I worked hard — every day — to repress my sexual drives, desires, and curiosities, because God was watching and I knew that He hated my wickedness.

All this repression led to serious emotional pain. I was on constant watch guard duty.
…Always worrying.
…Always scared.
…Always isolated.

This is a stock image, but it reflects how I felt through my adolescent years. Caged. Repressed. Isolated. Ashamed. Worried. Afraid.

Everywhere I looked I saw sinners doing sinful things. And I knew I had to stay far away from them, because I believed Jesus had commissioned me to be “in the world, but not of the world.”

That idea — to be “in the world, but not of the world” — totally isolated me.

It fostered crippling shyness and limited my choice of friends to the (very) few who shared my own brand of fundamentalism.

More Fast Facts:

  • When I left home for college, to study Elementary Education, I took my inhibitions and extreme shyness with me.
  • I attended a Christian University, but even so, my religion-fueled timidity isolated me.
  • While others went out partying and having fun, I stayed hidden — bookworming in my dorm room and avoiding unnecessary temptation.
  • But nature is nature, and my deepest, most sinful curiosities would not die.
  • So I found myself alone.
  • Online (gasp).
  • Chatting (gasp).
  • And flirting — with boys (double gasp)!
  • And that’s when it happened…..

One guy in the chat room, I’ll call him “Pete,” offered me $25 if I would send him my used panties.

My. Brain. Exploded.

Today, 15+ years (and 2500+ panties) later, used panty requests are an everyday event in my life, but in that moment, Pete’s desire was the most *revolting* idea I’d ever heard!

And I was certain that mailing him my panties would earn me a one-way ticket to Dante’s Inferno.

Naturally, I refused and called him a “sicko pervert” (yes, my exact words).

But the experience stuck with me, as did my fascination with chatting online. Despite the eternal ramifications, I found myself in the chat rooms night after night.

The guys knew me, I knew them, and it was the most exhilarating experience I’d ever had!

I finally had friends!
…Lots of friends!
…Funny friends!
…Sexy friends!

Hell-bound friends?
Yes.

But at least they were friends.

I knew all of this was evil. But I couldn’t stop. I was 20 years old, painfully shy in real life, sexually repressed, hungry for interaction. And I yearned for friendship any way I could get it.

I wasn’t trying to be evil… I just WAS evil.

And I knew God hated me.

Speaking of evil… remember Pete, the sicko pervert?

His persistence paid off. Two or three times a week he continued asking me to send him my used panties.

Like a good little church girl, I always refused. But I grew fascinated with the idea, and when he raised his price to $100, I caved into the temptation. (I was a poor college student, after all.)

After I delivered that first panty, I became a celebrity in that little chat room (sort of). Pete openly raved and bragged about how good my panties were and overnight, several more guys came forward asking for panties, nylons, bras, socks, pillowcases, etc. It was both shocking and thrilling.

I had a little money!
…And friends!
…And a terrifying secret I couldn’t share with anyone.

That is how I invented AmysPanties. It was an accident. I never dreamed I’d create anything so weird or so vile. But after a few months, I was eyeball deep in orders, special requests, accolades, fans — and a used panty fetish I only partially understood.

All of this started in 2002-2003, when there were only two or three used panty girls online. So when I launched AmysPanties, there was little competition for the keywords “used panties.” And as luck would have it, Google listed my site 1st or 2nd in the search results for several years. As a result, my customer base grew exponentially, and I soon realized I couldn’t keep up with demand.

This demand for my time and products were so much greater than I’d expected that I soon looked for other avenues to keep my customers happy. Eventually, that (and my affection for chatting online) led me to iFriends.

iFriends is gone now, but in 2004, it was the world’s first and largest Adult Webcam Network. At any moment, day or night, they had upwards of 2500 models online — all broadcasting from their bedrooms.

Still More Fast Facts:

  • Amy is my real first name.
  • Lockheart is not my real last name.
  • I invented Lockheart to flesh-out my online persona for iFriends.
  • The original AmyLockheart vision was modeled (loosely) after Avril Lavigne, the feisty pop star.
  • We look similar, and I loved her brash, rebellious confidence.
  • I wanted/needed to channel some of that confidence for myself.
  • I still love Avril.
  • But today, more than ever, Amy Lockheart and I stand alone. We are the same person.

So in 2004 AmyLockheart signed up to be an iFriends model and I invited all my panty freaks to visit my first webcam show.

It was a *terrifying* experience.

I was literally trembling with stage fright as I went live for the first time.

(Up to that point, I had never shown my face to anyone online. Ever. All my pictures were just torso, crotch, and butt shots. So going live on cam was a huge hurdle for me.)

But stage fright, as bad as that was, wasn’t the worst of it.

The demons of guilt and shame were haunting me worse than ever!

On one hand, the excitement and promise of webcam riches drove me forward; on the other, the fear of damnation and judgment nearly crippled me. It was the worst feeling ever.

Nevertheless, I soldiered forward and at the end of my first webcam session, I’d earned almost $500. It was a life-changing experience. Scary, but also empowering.

So I kept marching forward — and repressing my religious fears.
…Shipping used panties.
…Performing webcam shows.
…Offering phone sex calls.
…Building my iFriends Fanclub.
…Learning about online marketing.
…And on it went for years.

The money was great.

The webcam sexcapades were great.

The guys I met were great.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt…

But not really.

It was a constant, daily pressure knowing that God was judging me and loathing me from the clouds.

So I hid from Him, and as I cowered away from Him, I also cowered away from my family.

From the very beginning, my sinful online life drove a sharp wedge of secrecy between me and my family — especially my parents.

I had to tell them countless lies, and I was never able to share any of my hard-earned successes.

And that hurt.
Bad.

But it was only the beginning.

Even More Fast Facts:

  • By 2008, I’d done well.
  • My panties were constantly sold out.
  • I passed $1 Million in cumulative webcam earnings (2004-2008).
  • My house was paid for.
  • My car was paid for.
  • I traveled a lot.
  • But one of the songs in my iTunes playlist was Johnny Cash’s 2006 version of “God’s Gonna Cut You Down.”
  • That song seemed like a personal warning, and it seemed to play every day.
  • God. Was. Watching.
  • And in September, 2008….. He spoke to me.

Hurricane Ike hit Houston, Texas like a sledge hammer.
My house was spared.
But I was not.

The power outage in my area lasted six or seven days, and I was woefully unprepared.

No electricity.
No generator.
No fuel.
No air conditioning.
No TV.
No phone.
No computer.
No food (except for some random peanut butter, Oreos, and Doritos).
No grocery stores.
No gas stations.
Looting everywhere.
And no idea if/when things would ever get back to normal.

I was alone.
And I was scared.
And in that scary silence, I talked to God.
A lot.
And I tried to make peace with him.

As a kindergartner I was taught that God rains catastrophes on sinful people as warnings. It’s right there in the Bible, so it must be true — and I swallowed every word — hook, line, and sinker.

So I wholeheartedly believed God was warning me (and everyone in Houston / Texas / USA) that we’d better get clean, or “sooner or later God’ll cut us down.”

Through that experience, I decided to rededicate my life to my repressed faith and kill Amy Lockheart.

Born Again: Killing Amy Lockheart

WARNING: This next section is the worst part of my story (by far).
I hate everything about it.
I’m ashamed of it.
Embarrassed by it.
And mortified to share it publicly. But to understand the person I am today, you *must* understand where I’ve been, how I got here, and how my mistakes led to my new-found enlightenment.

So here goes…

I couldn’t kill my Amy Lockheart career overnight, because I still had financial obligations, and I still needed some kind of income. But by 2009 I was actively searching for a way to get clean and plotting ways to dismantle everything I’d built as Amy Lockheart.

I *dramatically* cut back my webcam hours (to almost nothing), I returned to church, and I began exploring other career opportunities.

I didn’t want to revisit Elementary Education (being an ex-camgirl… “damaged goods…” interacting with kids… and all that). Plus, my heart wasn’t in it.

But one of the things I loved most about camming — even going back to my earliest days in the chat rooms — was the sincere relationships I built with some of my regular clients. These were not just sex shows. They were real relationships, with real connections, feelings, emotions, laughter, and compassion — all without judgments.

I wondered if I could find similar interaction in a different, faith-friendly profession.

I finally decided to pursue a new career in Christian Counseling. Perhaps I could prove my repentance — and achieve forgiveness — if I were using my life to help feed the flock.

So I went back to school, earned degrees in Psychology and Counseling, and even started getting a few family counseling referrals from my church.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

But not really.

Early in my short journey as a Christian Counselor, I discovered that Biblical solutions to human problems often further victimize the victim.

Yes, the Bible demands that we love our neighbors. BUT… if our neighbors can’t jump through certain doctrinal hoops or profess certain theological beliefs, then those people need to be either (a) fixed or (b) avoided.

Biblical answers for divorce, abortion, sexuality, marriage, (and many other human conditions) are often crude, blunt, inflexible, and many times anti-compassionate.

So to make a long story short, I often felt I was doing more harm than good. “Cutting rather than stitching,” to paraphrase a Michael Knott tune.

And it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t well suited for Christian Counseling.

But it didn’t matter anyway, because as everyone knew in 2012…

The world was going to end any day!
…The apocalypse was upon us!
…Jesus’ return was imminent!
…The “Rapture” could happen any minute!
…Armageddon was just around the corner!

You see, the part I forgot to mention is that in 2009 — after the hurricane – I sold my house in Houston, and fled to the Ozark Mountains in southern Missouri.

There I became deeply involved with a fundamentalist Christian church, and in 2011, I married a man I’ll call Jesse (not his real name) — an ultra-conservative Bible Man with a black King James in one hand and a Smith & Wesson in the other.

Don’t forget… I was *desperate* for absolution.

I needed to get clean. And based on my strict upbringing, I believed the stairway to heaven was rooted in conservative Christianity — the more conservative, the better.

So I threw myself into Bible studies, sermons, politics, social issues, all of it.

Most of it I swallowed with ease. Some was more difficult. But I was determined to get clean no matter what. And since Jesse led most of the Bible studies… well, the chemistry was there.

I guess I never expected to get married. But let’s face it. Marriage is the “Christian thing to do.” If you’re not married, then you must be having sex out of wedlock, and… Oh the horror!!!

To be clear, marrying Jesse was my own choice. Nobody twisted my arm or forced me into it. And for a time, I did love him.

He was a loving, smart, strong, Biblical guy. And when he learned about my past, he loved and accepted me anyway.

…And he was eager to help me kill Amy Lockheart forever.

Really Sad Fast Facts:

  • One of the first things we did as newlyweds was gather all my Amy Lockheart cam gear (stripper shoes, boots, outfits, corsets, wigs, costumes, lingerie, body jewelry, sex toys, etc..) and we burned everything in a brush fire on the back of his property.
  • It was super sad for me.
  • I cried.
  • But I was willing to do *anything* to get clean.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

But not really.

My church was a den of Bible Prophecy addicts, and my newlywed husband was chief among them. He knew every “jot and tiddle” of the prophecies. He read ALLLL the books and subscribed to all the apocalyptic sermons, podcasts, YouTube channels, and radio shows.

Ask him or anyone in my church, and they could give you hours of explanations, and time lines, and diagrams about the end of the world.

And sadly, I bought into it.

I didn’t understand all the nuances, but these were “God’s People,” they’d done their homework, and I believed most of what they said.

In 2012, this apocalypticism reached a fever pitch.
…President Obama was re-elected.
…The Mayan calendar was ending.
…The astronomical signs were lining up.

These were all prophetic omens and it meant Jesus was coming back any day!

But it never happened.

Clearly, their predictions were wrong. But that didn’t stop them.

Pope Benedict resigned in 2013, and that was a new omen.

But nothing happened.

Then in 2014 and 2015 they couldn’t stop talking about the “Four Blood Moons.” They were yet more ominous warnings that the apocalypse was upon us… Any day now!

Again. Nothing.

But wait! There’s more… and it will only cost you everything you own.

Throughout this years-long Apocalyptic Hysteria, Jesse was dedicated to preparing for the worst. He was listening to all the doomsdayers (Jim Bakker*, Thomas Horn*, Glenn Beck*, Alex Jones*, Rick Wiles*, John Hagee*, Jack Van Impe* and so many others). And he had me convinced that we needed to prepare for the “Great Tribulation” described in the book of Revelation.

* NOT recommended.

Jesse and all the other prophecy experts warned of the coming Antichrist, (who, of course, was probably Obama), and how we soon wouldn’t be able to buy or sell unless we accepted the “Mark of the Beast” — 666.

I know this all sounds crazy, but this is *exactly* what my husband (and I, to a lesser extent) believed.

So we lived off of my meager income and ripped through my Amy Lockheart savings as we “prepped” for the worst.

While we were married, Jesse never held a job for more than two or three months. Instead, he spent his days and nights studying and stockpiling food, ammo, guns, hunting gear, gardening equipment, water filtration systems, and every other damn thing you can imagine.

After all… who needs a job — or a savings account — or a retirement fund if the world is about to end?

I had my misgivings about it all — but because of my experience during the hurricane — and because of the unrelenting hysteria — being prepared for the worst made sense.

So late in 2014 we bought some acreage wayyy out in the middle of nowhere, and Jesse’s dream was to build an off-the-grid compound. If the Antichrist was coming… by God, Jesse would be ready. LOL.

Then in 2015, when Jesse finally realized how long, hard, and expensive it would be to build his dream fortress, he talked me into buying a massive 45′ diesel pusher motorhome and a Jeep so we could be mobile and “bug out” if SHTF (shit hit the fan).

“Hey little girl, need help washing that windshield?”

Jesse drained my Amy Lockheart savings like water through a leaky bucket, and like a good, subservient, Christian wife, I was (mostly) complicit.

I still had my misgivings about spending all the money.
…But for Jesse, this was a necessary path to survival.
…And for me, it was the only path to eternal life.

If I could show God that I was using my sex money to follow His ways… perhaps He would understand my sincerity.

Today, in 2019, I know this all sounds insane.

And I can’t believe I swallowed so much of it. I can’t believe I let so many other people persuade me into believing such weird ideas.

But I did.

And it totally destroyed my well-being.

Here’s the very worst part…
Through it all I adopted the fears of my peers and began prejudging virtually anyone outside our little tribe.

Anyone who didn’t believe as we did was probably part of the conspiracy.

Listen to some Alex Jones podcasts (not recommended) and you’ll understand the hysteria mindset. Anyone and anything outside of our little tribe was in league with the devil. They were to be feared and never trusted.

Every minute.
Every day.

We were on guard against Big Brother, Google, Apple, Facebook, Amazon, the Democrats, the Republicans, the Communists, the Socialists, the Masons, the Jesuits, the Catholics, the homosexuals, the atheists, ISIS, Al-Qaeda, Oprah, Rosie, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kanye West, Caitlyn Jenner, Hollywood, and on and on and on…

LITERALLY EVERYONE was corrupt, and in their own way conspiring with the “Illuminati” against God.

It.
Was.
Miserable.

By the spring of 2016, my patience for all these conspiracy theories and make-it-up-as-you-go Bible decoding… and Jesse’s out-of-control spending was gone.

I was tired of the failed prophecies.
I was tired of the incessant fear.
I was tired of the prejudice.
I was tired of being depressed.
…and I was tired of being dead fucking broke!

My Amy Lockheart money was gone.

Yes, we had 300 cans of Spam in a leaky basement (YAY!)
…and a truckload of bullets (YAY!)
…and a 5 lifetime supply of first aid gear (YAY!)
…and a hulking, rotting Bug-Out Bus (motorhome) in the back yard (YAY!)

But my bank account was empty, and my business was on life support.

Through all the hysteria years (2011 – 2016), I never took my websites offline — and I even revamped them from time to time, because we desperately needed the income (as dwindling as it was). But I never created new pictures or videos, and I never lifted a finger to promote myself. I never tried to expand or grow.

For salvation’s sake, I just let it die.

But here’s the thing… by 2016, Amy Lockheart was dead.
…But so was my marriage.
…And my bank account.
…And even my faith in God.

I had poured everything — literally everything — into finding God, and all I discovered was fear and judgement and tribalism — (and 300 cans of Spam).

And the Truth Shall Set You Free

What Jesse didn’t know is that in the fall of 2015 I was having serious doubts. I didn’t mean to. It just happened… I was full of questions, with few answers.

If the All-Knowing/Loving/Powerful God of the Universe was on our side, why were we so miserable all the time?
…And scared?
…And mean-spirited toward people who were unlike us?
…And why did we need so many guns?
…And bullets?
…And Spam?

I went searching for answers.

That’s when I discovered a book by Bart D. Ehrman called, How Jesus Became God, which led me to another titled, Jesus Interrupted, which eventually led me to several other titles by people like Hitchens, Dillahunty, Dawkins, and more.

To be clear, I was not looking to escape my faith. Only to get a broader perspective, and (hopefully) answer some of my nagging questions.

But after several months of studying the above works, this website, and this video, the dominoes fell and took my faith with them.

And my life changed forever.

My New Religion: The Resurrection of Amy Lockheart

One of the hardest parts of losing your faith — especially when *EVERYONE* you know belongs to that faith — is that suddenly — seemingly overnight — you are a pariah.

It’s a nightmare… as in actual, real nightmares — with heavy, real-life consequences.

When God left me, he took my bank account, my husband, my family, and virtually all of my friends with him.

I knew that if I wanted to live an authentic life, I could not stay married to Bible Man (he was — and still is — a staunch believer). I knew my family wouldn’t understand. I knew the church would disown me. And I knew my friends would cut me out of the clique.

I was an apostate.
A heretic.
An outcast.

…And suddenly I understood on a visceral level what it must be like for many LGBTQ individuals to come out of the closet — knowing — from this day forward, everyone you love will judge you, and maybe even hate you.

It’s profoundly life changing.

The divorce was hard.
…And weird.

Imagine how many times I said, “fuck my life,” as we discussed dividing survivalist supplies, ammo, and cans of beef stew.

In a very strange way, eight years after Hurricane Ike destroyed my city, I was left cleaning up an entirely different kind of destruction.

It was awful.

But it didn’t matter. I had seen the light, and I needed out of the situation immediately.

So dead broke, I left it all behind.
No friends.
No family.
No God.
…and not a single can of Spam.

It was just me.
Alone.
And scared.

Remember that hulking, rotting motorhome in the back yard? Yeah, well that was my new home for a while.

One of my stipulations before buying the motorhome was that I’d be capable of driving it. This pic was taken on a training course, while I was learning to corner properly. I only ran over 38 dozen traffic cones before I figured it out.

Trying to find myself, I traveled and “lived” in several states over a period of several months. From Flori-bama* to Phoenix, and every place in between.

(* An awesome beach bar on the Florida/Alabama border, where I spent a blustery April afternoon sipping peach iced tea and watching dolphins play 100 yards off shore.)

I spent most of these months in Colorado, exploring the Rocky Mountains in my Jeep.
…Trying to find myself.
…Trying to understand.
…Trying to unravel 30 years of indoctrination.

I was desperate to find the Real, Authentic, God-free me.
…Whoever she was, she was a foreigner to me.

I was wrestling with ancient philosophical questions.
…Without God, what’s the meaning of life?
…Is there an afterlife?
…Where does morality come from?
…What are the rules?
Are there any rules?
…And if there are no rules, how then are we to live?

But philosophizing the answers to such questions takes a long time.
…And diesel is expensive (especially at 8mpg).
…And campgrounds are expensive.
…And motorhome payments/insurance are expensive.
…And every-fucking-thing breaks down on motorhomes!!

So after several months of nomadic wandering and exploring the Colorado Rockies, I made my way to Arizona for the coming winter. The weather was beautiful. The sun was always shining. The sunsets were astonishing. The pools were pristine. Spring Training baseball was just around the corner… And it felt like a good place to build a new life.

So in January, 2017, I decided to sell the motorhome and settle down.

That recovering/traveling/transitional period was an important time for me. I was seeing the world, the Universe, and the people around me with brand new eyes.

The beaches were beautiful.
The mountains were beautiful.
The prairies were beautiful.
The stars — holy shit — they were beautiful.
But also — perhaps the thing that amazed me the most — the people were beautiful!

…And life without judgments or hatred was beautiful.
…And light!
…And free!

Orange Beach, Alabama
Orange Beach, Alabama
Sweet Home Alabama – (for a few weeks)
Gulf Shores, Alabama – SaltLife, baby!
By the time I made it to South Dakota I was more confident about asking strangers to snap pictures for me.
Rushmore, South Dakota
The Badlands, South Dakota
Crazy Horse Memorial, South Dakota
Wall Drug, South Dakota
Atop Grayback Mountain, Colorado (12,616 ft.)
Above Creede, Colorado
Engineer Pass, Colorado (12,800 ft.)
Engineer Pass, Colorado (12,800 ft.)
“Oh Point” just off Engineer Pass, Colorado
Another view from “Oh Point” – I had to wait for a while before someone else showed up to snap this pic.
Imogene Pass, above Telluride, Colorado (13,000 ft.)
Along the Million Dollar Highway near Ouray, Colorado
Selfie near Flagstaff, Arizona
Jeep trail outside of Sedona, Arizona

My chains were gone, and it felt amazing.

Through it all, I found a new euphoria for nature, life, and humanity.
We’re all here.
Alone.
Vulnerable.
Together.
…On this microscopic little marble.
…In a Universe where life is exceptionally scarce.

Technically speaking, from an evolutionary perspective, none of us should be here.

But we are.

And it’s a beautiful thing, as long as we don’t spoil it with divisiveness, derision, and hatred.

These are just a few of my recovery revelations.

But then, just like the year before, December 2017 was a heart breaker for me.

A really tough time.

Christmas had always been my favorite time of year. But Jesus was no longer “the reason for the season,” and I was estranged from virtually everyone.

So I felt especially cold, empty, and lonely.
…and I found myself scratching and clawing for any inspiration / mood lifters I could find.

That’s when I binged the entire Rocky series on Blu-Ray.

(Recommended! OMG, it’s so good. If you do nothing else, spend 2 minutes to watch this clip…)

And that’s when I decided — beaten but not broken — it was time to pick myself up and get back in the ring.

It was time to resurrect Amy Lockheart.
…But this time it wouldn’t be the old, scared, ashamed, guilt-ridden Amy Lockheart.

This time was going to be different.
This time I was going to be fearless.
This time I had new liberties, fewer inhibitions, and the Eye of the Tiger.

Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Almost.

The only problem was… I had virtually nothing left.

Through the divorce, I got the motorhome, the Jeep, a TV, a laptop, a youth’s size 20 gauge shotgun, a Springfield 9mm, and a tiny bit of money (from selling half our land).

But the house, the furniture, the pickup, ALLL the other guns, and shit tons of other prepper junk stayed with Jesse.

I mention all of this only to say… after I sold the motorhome (and paid off the consignor and the bank), I barely had enough money left over to pay for rent, internet, my server bill, and a mattress.

(For the uninitiated, motorhome furniture is sold with the motorhome. So when I sold it, my bed, couch, dining furniture, etc, went with it.)

If it hadn’t been for some much-needed panty sales (thank “God” I never closed down AmysPanties.com) and generous assistance from 2 long-time fans, I *never* would have made it back online.

Go back and watch my Chaturbate shows from 2018. ALL of that furniture (100% of it), including the sex toys, outfits, lighting, mirrors, and computer gear was brand, spanking new.

And it was ALL earned via private cam shows with two amazingly, generous, loving guys in December 2017/January 2018 — right before I started Chaturbating.

The truth is… the furniture in that bedroom was almost literally the only furniture I owned! The rest of my rental house was naked and empty.

By that time, I owned a garage-sale dining room set, some kitchen ware, a TV, a Blue-Ray player, some speakers, a wi-fi router, and a pre-owned loveseat. That was it.

No washer.
No dryer.
No fridge.
…nothing like that.

I had to find a rental that included appliances, until AmyIsLove helped me buy my own.

I’m raking over these mundane details for three important reasons…

First: To give credit where due. AmyIsLove and KingKummm… you guys were my saviors at that point in my life, and I can never thank you enough!

Second: To explain that those tears you saw during some of my shows — like during my birthday — were so much more than just tears of gratitude!
…They were catharsis.
…They were healing.
…They were washing away YEARS of previous fears and tears.

Tears of Healing.

Third: To illustrate how far I’ve come since my resurrection.
…Today, in 2019, my life is finally getting back on track.
…I’m still in a rental house, but my furniture is beautiful, comfortable, and I can afford the payments.
…My new cam space is awesome and totally unique.
…My future is bright and exciting.
…and I owe it ALL to you, my loving fans.

(AmyIsLove, KingKummm, JBO, LockheartLover, MountnScrew, BadAss Buggs, Johnny, Copper_Pot, BiggKlink, KMan, Wayner, Tiny, Hammerdown, Highneer, Vardak, BBKepler, FM, FFTP, Marine4Rent, MonkeyKing)

So my dear friends and lovers…
Thank you for all your continued love and support!
When I lost God (and everyone else)…..
I found you.

As we (you and I) turn to the next chapter of our lives together, I want to introduce you to my new religion.

It’s called LOVE.

Love, not because some ancient manuscript demands it, but because it is the only thing that can transcend all our differences.

Let’s avoid the things that divide us!
…Religion.
…Politics.
…FireBreathers.
…SinWizards.
…NeanderWits.

Let’s avoid tribalism.

We are all human.
We are all on the same team.
We all deserve respect.
We are all worthy of love.

At different times in our lives, we are fragile.
…and vulnerable.
…and frustrated.
…and sad.
…and scared.
…and angry.
…and confused.
…and even misled.

But each of us are priceless in our scarcity!

Think about the Universe.
Billions of years old.
Trillions of galaxies.
…and there’s only ONE you.
…and there’s only ONE me.
…and we’re here.
…together.
…now.

Join with me as the next chapter unfolds.

Let’s take nothing for granted.
Let’s enjoy every fleeting moment.
Let’s choose positivity.
Let’s choose kindness.
Let’s choose love.