Dealing with Clark's death reminded me of how I had to deal with my own death. In the year 2000 after my son was born I was rushed into an emergency surgery where I died three times in the process. As frightening as that is, I wasn't frightened at all. I was perfectly fine, because my grandfather was there showing me all the good stuff that had happened in my life. It was truly amazing. The photo for this week is of a painting I created in an attempt to explain that dream visually. 

**TRIGGER WARNING* Things are starting to get really ugly in the world of Custom Justice.

As always, if I'm reading too slowly or too quickly, and you feel like you aren't able to keep the same pace, you can always grab a copy of my book from Amazon or Barnes & Noble. It's available in ebook, paperback, hardcover, and (coming soon) audio book! For Amazon, go here: https://www.amazon.com/Custom-Jutice-trafficking-internationally-impossible-ebook/dp/B08PPS5WHJ

For Barnes and Noble, go here: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/custom-justice-amanda-blackwood/1139313408

Don't forget to check out my NEWEST books! In April I published "Lost April" about my friendship with a man who had pancreatic cancer. Then in June I will be publishing a book inspired by the life of my amazing Grandmother called "The Road We Left Behind" and both can be found on Barnes and Noble as well as Amazon. Coming up in September I'll be starting season 3 of the podcast with interviews of other trauma survivors, and I'll also be releasing the final book in the "Unlikely" trilogy called "Fair Play" and I can't wait for this set to be done. It will be my first completed series, but I have many more in the future.  Lost April: https://books2read.com/b/4Ny0EN

The Road We Left Behind PREORDERS: https://books2read.com/b/m2edl6

Unlikely Trilogy: https://books2read.com/ap/xej5pN/Amanda-Blackwood

I had no freaking clue what I was feeling when I heard about the death of my ex-husband. I didn't know how to process my confusing emotions that ran the gamut from guilty to glorified, from angry to absolved. Figuring out my next steps and if I could ever find open communication with my son would be something I'd need help with, primarily from my brand new therapist. She was amazing, and she was able to read into things more than I could have imagined. Following her advice would be a massive challenge though. 

*TRIGGER WARNING* Things are starting to get really ugly in the world of Custom Justice.

As always, if I'm reading too slowly or too quickly, and you feel like you aren't able to keep the same pace, you can always grab a copy of my book from Amazon or Barnes & Noble. It's available in ebook, paperback, hardcover, and (coming soon) audio book!

For Barnes and Noble, go here: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/custom-justice-amanda-blackwood/1139313408

Don't forget to check out my NEWEST books! In April I published "Lost April" about my friendship with a man who had pancreatic cancer. Then in June I will be publishing a book inspired by the life of my amazing Grandmother called "The Road We Left Behind" and both can be found on Barnes and Noble as well as Amazon. Coming up in September I'll be starting season 3 of the podcast with interviews of other trauma survivors, and I'll also be releasing the final book in the "Unlikely" trilogy called "Fair Play" and I can't wait for this set to be done. It will be my first completed series, but I have many more in the future.

The Road We Left Behind PREORDERS: https://books2read.com/b/m2edl6

Unlikely Trilogy: https://books2read.com/ap/xej5pN/Amanda-Blackwood

I still couldn't wrap my brain around what human trafficking actually was. I started reading statistics, but at first they were still just statistics. They weren't faces. They weren't people. Then, through the amazing groups I was working with in Colorado, I was able to meet several other survivors of trafficking and they were no longer just numbers. They were faces and names and survivors. They were people who would become my friends. They were incredible souls who, like me, lived through Hell and somehow survived. But what exactly did all of that mean? 

William Wallace was a real man, but the movie Braveheart certainly was not based on real events. I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't visited the Wallace Monument in Scotland while on that vacation. It was a stunning structure. Afterward I received a brief informal education on the differences of language between Scotland and American English. Some of the everyday polite words we use here in the USA are some of the most vile, disgusting words you could possibly use in Scotland, especially when used to describe a person. I'd learn that all too well and experience that sort of verbal abuse the following year. 

Waking up with a hangover was a new experience and Richard taught me all about the local cures for such a malady that day. I was also quite successful in tricking myself into thinking the stranger in the hotel room was something that hadn't happened the night before. Eager as ever, I went on about my way, and we went to explore the castle. I saw things that would blow my mind and leave me speechless, and would later serve as a reminder of what my own life would become. The photo was from that morning. 

Wandering around Edinburgh was incredible. Richard drank entirely too much for me to keep up, and even trying left me feeling as though I were lost in a fog. We wandered from one street to another, one pub to another, and one ancient building to another. We found some of the most incredible places that sent chills up and down our spines. Then, at the end of the evening, I knew it wasn't just alcohol I was feeling, and we weren't alone in that hotel room. How was I going to get out of that mess? 

I couldn't believe I was finally in Scotland after so many years of wanting to go and thinking it would never happen. And though I knew everyone around me was speaking English, it certainly didn't sound like it. Something needed to be done with my ears so that I'd understand that accent! 

When Richard and I reconnected, he knew all the right things to say. There was no possibly way that I could have seen through him extravagant love letters, straight to what his true intentions were. I was willing to do whatever it took to see things through this time. Somehow I felt that if everything else had failed, there had to be a reason, and that reason had to be that man. Surely I was supposed to be with him. I had no warning that he was a predator of the worst kind, and the next two years would be spent in constant survival mode. 

I clawed my way out of ruin, one step at a time. It never would have been possible without working long hours, pouring my all into my job, sacrificing any social life, and somehow making some amazing friends along the way. I was truly motivated in a way I don't think I've been forced to be since. It left me exhausted and spent, but incredibly grateful and humbled. By the time I managed to land where I wanted and needed to be, I was only too grateful to sleep on a floor with my cat and a large stack of cardboard boxes. But how long would that last?

My new place was a disastrous paradise, much like my life had been. Eventually having been stripped of everything left me only wanting to improve everything so much more. I became extremely ambitious yet again, searching to find my goals and achieve the impossible. Part of me doubted that I could do it, but most of me didn't even have time to be concerned with that sort of insignificant detail.  My cat deserved a better life.