The Role of Denial in an Adult Child’s Life

Denial is a defense mechanism used to combat or minimize the danger to which a person is exposed and exists as a dynamic in both the alcoholic and the adult child who is created after an upbringing with him. If you teeter on the outside ledge of a 100-story building, for example, you may improve … Continue reading “The Role of Denial in an Adult Child’s Life”

Denial is a defense mechanism used to combat or minimize the danger to which a person is exposed and exists as a dynamic in both the alcoholic and the adult child who is created after an upbringing with him.

If you teeter on the outside ledge of a 100-story building, for example, you may improve your chances of climbing back into it if you deny the danger and avoid the terror associated with it.

Denial is the cloud that surrounds an alcoholic or dysfunctional family. A storm rages on the inside, but this is mostly hidden or distorted when viewed from the outside.

The Alcoholic:

Alcoholism is the only malady that fools a person into believing that it is not a disease and, even if he thinks it is, his denial of it only further nullifies it.

Why, it may be wondered, can a family suffer intolerable mental and emotional pain and abuse because of a father’s drinking, yet he himself seems to assume no responsibility for their anguish?

Perhaps the single most frustrating characteristic of an alcoholic is his refusal or inability to admit that he has such a problem, even when his family is falling apart, his job is on the line, his drunk driving convictions are accumulating, and his wife is suing him for divorce.

“Much has been written about denial,” according to Kathleen W. Fitzgerald in her book, Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance (Whales’ Tail Press, 2002, p. 191). “The alcoholic simply cannot see and understand what is happening to him. The family also suffers this denial.”

“Slowly, painfully, the fabric of family life has been picked away,” she also wrote (p. 177). “There are big holes, even craters and gorges in that family. The family members are truly the walking wounded.”

Although the trail of destruction left by an alcoholic may be blatantly obvious to others, he himself cannot connect his actions with it.

“It is the very nature of this disease that self-awareness is dim, blunted, absent,” according to Fitzgerald (p. 55). “Even in recovery, all that is left is a memory of bizarre occasions and of painful, confused feelings. Recovering people, sober many years, suddenly remember a forgotten incident, a buried conversation, something that was seen or said or felt while drinking.”

An alcoholic is not consciously, by the definition of the term, lying. He truly does not believe that he has a drinking problem, much less that he belongs in the “alcoholic” category.

He cannot make a direct brain connection with his excessive imbibing and the negative consequences it causes others, yet this only amplifies the anger and rage of those he hurts-in other words, those who can make that connection.

So true is this aspect of the disease, that one adult child recently recounted that, after his father was flagged by police because of his erratic driving, given a breathalyzer test, demonstrated a high blood alcohol level, and issued one of many DWI’s, the adult child himself was blamed for the incident because he had purchased more economical tires for the car and they had caused the erratic driving. “Alcohol!” he emphatically stated. “I never touch the stuff,” despite the heavy smell of it still escaping his mouth. There had obviously been no connection between his actions and their consequences.

Denial, the brain’s self-protecting mechanism, consists of three processes:

Turning off, the first one, occurs when the person’s mind seeks to protect itself against anxiety by dimming or blunting what causes it. Like the static on the radio, it can be reduced or eliminated by flipping its off switch.

The creation of a blind spot, the second, can be considered an area of blocked attention and self-deception, and one which the alcoholic is no longer able to reach and review.

“The blind spot is the cornerstone of the alcoholic’s system of defense,” according to Fitzgerald (p. 57). “This is what is meant by ‘alcoholic denial.'”

“For many reasons,” she later writes (p. 57), “they are unable to keep track of their own behavior and begin to lose contact with their emotions. Their defense systems continue to grow, so that they can survive in the face of their problems. The greater the pain, the higher and more rigid the defenses become; and this whole process is unconscious… Finally, they actually become victims of their own defense systems.”

Multiple levels, the third tenet of denial, occur when the alcoholic employs his blind spots in all levels of his life, and in each case is unable to process the consequences of his actions.

Blackouts, periods or episodes of induced amnesia, cement the condition.

“The alcoholic does not have conscious access to knowledge of the amount he drank, how he drank, what he was like, the effect he had on others, how he looked, (or) how he sounded,” Fitzgerald wrote (p. 59).

All this produces the classical denial syndrome: he becomes blind to his disease and then becomes blind to the fact that he is blind. His actions bypass the subconscious and go directly into the unconscious part of his mind, causing him to fully believe that they are not there. He cannot connect with what he does and he therefore has no regret, remorse, empathy, or even conscience about the harm he inflicts on himself or others.

“When a person is left without the marvelous defense of denial, guilt and shame wash over him, drowning him in self-loathing,” according to Fitzgerald (p. 175). “This cannot be avoided and serves to knock down the last vestiges of his denial; the degree to which he is still able to disown his alcoholism is the degree to which he will not recover. All the denial must go. He does not need it anymore.”

In the end, it is the alcoholic’s blindness to his excessive and dangerous drinking levels, and his seeming unwillingness to take ownership for them, that causes more rage in the families affected by them than the act of drinking itself. How do the adult children who ultimately emerge from such upbringings deal with all of this? Ironically, with denial of their own.

The Adult Child:

Ignorance is an early form and foreshadow of denial. The former implies “do not know.” The latter can be considered “refuse to know.” Those raised in alcoholic, dysfunctional, and/or abusive families quickly and ironically learn that the only thing that holds them together is to not see the truth that otherwise causes others to fall apart-that is, the dysfunctional family’s truth is a lie–that everyone must deny what they see and experience in order to continue living within it.

Alcoholism or dysfunction hardly occur in isolation or only to the imbiber or abuser, and those affected use the same brain mechanism as those who affect.

What, then, is denial to an adult child?

“Denial for an adult child has a variety of definitions that include blaming others and minimizing memoires,” according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (World Service Organization, 2006, p. 454). “There is also an outright rejection of facts. Some aspects of adult child denial involve recalling abusive or neglectful behavior as normal.”

Alcoholism is a disease, not a liquid.

Despite what may be apparent, based upon behavioral transgressions, the presence of alcohol itself, and various forms of abuse, that alcoholism exists to others, some two decades of exposure to it ironically fail to provide the necessary clues to those who are exposed to it during their upbringings.

“… An estimated 50 percent of adult children of alcoholics deny or cannot recognize alcoholism among their families,” according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (p. 124). “By growing up in a dysfunctional home, we become desensitized to the effects of alcoholism, abusive behavior, and lack of trust.”

“We used denial to forget… the fact that we had internalized our parents,” it further states. (p. 22). “Denial is the glue that holds together a dysfunctional home. Family secrets or ignored feelings, and predictable chaos are part of a dysfunctional family system. The system allows abuse or other unhealthy behaviors to be tolerated at harmful levels. Through repetition, the abuse is considered normal by those in the family. Because dysfunction seemed normal or tolerable, the adult child can deny that anything unpleasant happened in childhood.”

But there is hope.

“By working the twelve steps with a sponsor or knowledgeable counselor,” again according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (p. 96), “the adult child realizes the denial and secrecy that were necessary to survive such an upbringing. Denial, which fosters a lack of clarity, is the glue that allows the disease of family dysfunction to thrive. Cloaked in denial, the disease is passed on to the next generation with amazing consistency. The basic language of denial is ‘don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel.'”

Exacerbating this dilemma is the fact that some are so dissociated from their feelings, that, even if incidents are recallable, there is no connection to the pain or negative emotion that existed at the time of their occurrences, leading a person to delusionally recount a childhood that was less traumatizing and impacting than it actually was.

With or without these feelings, the behavioral characteristics exhibited by adult children are recordings, if not out-and-out downloadings, of their parents’ actions.

“Much of that behavior mirrors the actions and thoughts of the dysfunctional parents, grandparents, or caregivers,” continues the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (p. 23). “Once we come out of denial, we realize we have internalized our parents’ behavior. We have internalized their perfectionism, control, dishonesty, self-righteousness, rage, pessimism, and judgmentalness.”

Another form of denial is selective recall, or the remembering of those events that were either less threatening or that sanitized upbringings so that they can be recounted as more respectable and presentable to others later in life who do not seem to share their adverse childhood experiences.

“… This kind of selective recall is a form of denial,” according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (p. 32). “To think that our parents could shame us or belittle us for being a vulnerable child is too much for us to accept. Like most children, we wanted to believe that our parents cared about us no matter what they said to us. As adults, we search for any kindness that our parents might have shown and ignore clear examples of damaging behavior. Societal pressure helps us select the memories that are more presentable.”

Although this convenient “forgive-and-forget” form of denial may convince others, an adult child’s own behavior, which is not always and fully under his control, is like a language that does not forget, if its messages can be accurately translated, and they often are, bespeaking of repressed incidents, feelings, fears, and damage by means of addictions, compulsions, codependence, anxiety disorders, hypervigilance, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and the very survival traits which embody and define the adult child syndrome. The person may deliberately or inadvertently lie, but the body usually tells the truth.

There may be an even more subtle form of this force. Continually subjected to energy and brain waves the alcoholic or abusive parent generates, spouse and children alike may subconsciously lock on to this pattern and adopt it themselves. After all, any system, whether it be that of a family or a company, can only function as a cohesive whole if all of its members adhere to the same rules.

“When alcoholism or dysfunction are present in the family,” according to the Adult Children of Alcoholics textbook (p. 165), “every member… is affected… in body, mind, and spirit. Through the first 18 years of our lives, our families had 6,570 days to shame, belittle, ignore, criticize, or manipulate us during the most formative years of our being… To survive this long exposure to family dysfunction, our minds developed deeply entrenched roles and traits that changed the meaning of words and experience.”

Finally, denial is generated and compounded by the person’s once-necessary creation, most likely at a very young, pre-school age, of his inner child.

“The classic response for someone caught in a situation he cannot handle is fight or flight,” according to Fitzgerald in Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance (p. 141). “However, the child in such families is too small to fight and too young to flee; he must stay. But he improvises a way to both stay and leave: the child splits-his body stays, but his spirit leaves.”

“The child is not free to remain a child and stay with the natural rhythms of growing from girlhood to womanhood,” she continues. “… Forever she remains the adult child, caught in that twilight zone of inexperienced life, of bearing burdens too heavy, of never really knowing what childhood was and what adulthood truly is.”

“The separation/connection task is never successfully accomplished,” she concludes (p. 144), “so we do not truly develop into a rich, abundant maturity, but become hostage in that never-never land between adulthood and childhood. We become adult children. We are little kids, playing dress-up.”

The more a person deposits his adverse experiences into the sub- or even unconscious parts of his mind and seeks protection from them in his inner child, the less there is to be in denial about. After all, none of these things really exist to him, since he cannot reach or recollect them, and he cannot change what he cannot access, resulting in the perpetuation of the disease of alcoholism or dysfunction and the future generation of adult children.

 

How Abuse Shapes an Adult Child’s Life

Although there are several types of abuse, they all lead to the adult child syndrome. Indeed, child abuse can be considered a person’s original earthquake, while its effects can be equated with its adult aftershocks.

“A child’s integrity means that the child is safe, that his body and mind and soul’s life are nurtured, that he grows neither too fast nor too slow, that he understands trust and laughter and knows that there are a few people in the world who truly care,” according to Kathleen W. Fitzgerald in her book, “Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance” (Whales’ Tail Press, 2002, p. 133). “It means that he is whole and that gaping wounds are not inflicted on his body, his mind, his soul.”

This may be the reality of most children, but those who grow up with alcoholism and dysfunction would consider it little more than a theory.

“Adult children are dependent personalities who view abuse and inappropriate behavior as normal,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (World Service Organization, 2006, p. 18). “Or if they complain about the abuse, they feel powerless to do anything about it. Without help, adult children confuse love and pity and pick partners they can pity and rescue.”

Because the brain always attempts to finish out what was done to it, it transforms the abuse survivor into the rescuer he himself once most needed and the pity he feels for others becomes the transposed emotion from himself to them.

“The essence of child abuse,” according to Fitzgerald in “Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance” (p. 133), “is that the integrity and innocence of a child are assaulted by the very person or persons charged with his care.”

“A child’s innocence means,” she continues (p. 133), “that he is introduced to the world when he is ready and that the world, with its guilt and violence and shame, is not allowed to assault him too early, for he is protected. He is treasured, not beaten and burned and raped.”

“Domineering and neglectful adults create unsafe circumstances in different ways, but the end result is always danger for the (child),” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 478). “The danger may be emotional, spiritual, physical, and sexual. It manifests itself in many different ways, and even when not apparent, the threat of hurt is always there. Being alert in this constantly dangerous world is exhausting.”

Abuse wears many faces.

“There are different definitions of abuse and neglect and other unhealthy behaviors,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 27). “Our definition is based on adult children facing their abuse and neglect from childhood. For our purposes, (it) can be verbal, nonverbal, emotional, physical, religious, and sexual.”

But it is all damaging.

“We believe that hitting, threats, projections, belittlement, and indifference are the delivery mechanisms that deeply insert the disease of family dysfunction within us,” the textbook continues (p. 27). “We are infected in body, mind, and spirit. Parental abuse and neglect plant the seeds of dysfunction that grow out of control until we get help.”

Abuse is subtly and subconsciously cumulative.

“Child abuse means the sure, steady numbing of young and tender emotions,” wrote Fitzgerald in “Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance” (p. 133). “It means that a child has no time for dreams, only nightmares, and that the future is only going to get worse.

“Child abuse means that a young boy or girl believes that the world is basically ugly and violent and that there is really no one to trust. Only yourself. Keep your distance and they can’t hurt you.”

Yet, there is no choice. When you know no other way and the habitual harm you are subjected to falls within what you quickly conclude is normative, it becomes impossible to even understand your precarious situation, especially since no one labels your treatment as boundary-transcending and inappropriate, leaving little escape except the spiritual one, in which you seek protective refuge with creation of the inner child and replace it with the false, synthetic, or pseudo self.

“An alcoholic home is a violent place,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 86). “Alcoholism is a violent solution to the problem of pain, and anyone trapped in its lethal embrace is filled with rage and self-hate for choosing that form of denial. Children exposed to such violence come to believe that they are to accept punishment and abuse as a normal part of existence. They identify themselves as objects of hate, not worthy of love, and survive by denying their underlying feelings of hopeless despair.”

Fitzgerald goes so far to state that “there may be child abuse without alcoholism, but there is no alcoholism without child abuse,” (p. 132).

Forced to field, accept, and absorb their parent’s projected and transferred negativity, they can virtually adopt their persona. Chronically subjected to this transposition, they feel dehumanized and demoralized and anything but worthy and valuable. So overwhelming can these negative emotions become, in fact, that they dissociate from them and often feel null and void.

“(Abuse victims) learn embarrassment, then shame, and finally guilt,” wrote Fitzgerald in “Alcoholism: The Genetic Inheritance” (p. 133). “They learn to split the world into good and bad with no maybes; black and white with no grays. To be abused as a child means to live in a state of chronic shock and to learn a set way of behaving that keeps the shock level bearable.”

So buried can traumatic memories of child abuse become, that recovering adult children may initially be unable to access them.

“… We may be unable to fully recall our abuse, but we have a sense that something happened,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 461). “We have acting out behaviors that seem consistent with abuse, but we are not sure if it occurred. There may be somatic behaviors or a vague uneasiness in certain situations. In other words, there are flashes of images or bits of a story that make one wonder about what might have happened.”

Aside from manifesting itself as addictions, compulsions, catastrophization, hypervigilance, and post-traumatic stress disorder, mounting, retriggering charge can become uncontainable. Left without choice, remedy, or recourse during their upbringings-other than to swallow and suppress the detriment they were subjected to-abused children can progressively reach the point where the dam on the once believed “gone-and-forgotten” past weakens and finally breaks, releasing a flood of hitherto unexpressed and unprocessed emotions. Reduced to puppets, they may realize that they now function with hairpin triggers, acting out and in effect repeating the abusive behavior virtually downloaded in their subconscious minds. Completing the intergenerational link, they may ultimately re-offend their own children, perpetuating the dysfunctional disease.

“Given our dysfunctional upbringings,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 176), “we must realize we could not have turned out differently. Our behavior as adults was scripted from childhood. We repeated what was done to us by our parents… ”

Integral, like cellular building blocks, to abuse is the brain’s mechanism of denial-or its uncanny, but very accurate ability to nullify realty.

“Insanity begins when children are compelled to deny the reality of pain and abuse,” states the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 355). “They have no basis for deciding what is real or for knowing how to respond to those around them. They no longer trust authority to guide or protect them from harm.”

Yet they paradoxically take responsibility for their own plights.

“They are paralyzed by indecision and grow to hate themselves for being confused and vulnerable and for needing to be safe and secure,” according to the textbook (p. 355). “They learn to survive by punishing themselves for being vulnerable and by denying their need for love.”

Family system denial serves as the final nail driven into the container of abuse.

“The (family) system allows abuse or other unhealthy behaviors to be tolerated at harmful levels,” the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook states (p. 22). “Through repetition, abuse is considered normal by those in the family. Because the dysfunction seemed normal or tolerable, the adult child can deny that anything unpleasant (even) happened.”

Added to the dilemma is the necessary loyalty to the abusers who serve as the child’s only channel to food and shelter.

Denial, in no small way, was facilitated by the fundamental, but unspoken “don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel” rules.

“Growing up in a dysfunctional family meant not trusting what you were seeing or what your parents said,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 192). “Abuse was often minimized or blamed on another cause, which resulted in the child not trusting his or perceptions.”

Damaged, diminished, and demoralized, a child abuse survivor represents a very young version of a soldier, particularly since he is subjected to his earliest detriment when he is psychologically, emotionally, physically, and neurologically undeveloped.

“It is said that… children (who grew up with abuse) show the same anxieties, depression, and confusion as men who fought in a war,” wrote Fitzgerald (p. 134). “And 95 out of every 100 of those children are thrown out into the world with no help, no hope, no healing.”

In what may be the ultimate act of illogical, but subconscious irony, adult children frequently and effortlessly attract those who share similar upbringings, because their behavioral characteristics are familiar to them. Employing what can be considered a sixth sense, they identify the same energy waves in others, detecting a kindred spirit, and enact the philosophy of the late John Bradshaw, who often stated, “When you don’t know your history, you’re doomed to repeat it.”

“Adult children intuitively link up with other adult children in relationships and social settings,” according to the “Adult Children of Alcoholics” textbook (p. 13). “As bizarre as it sounds, many adult children are attracted to an abusive, addicted person (who) resembles an addicted or abusive parent… Because we confuse love and pity and have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, our abusive relationships ‘fit’ with a subconscious set of traits we are looking for in a mate or significant other.”

Aside from these aspects, abuse shapes an adult child’s life in numerous, multifaceted ways.

He becomes an object of hate. Bombarded by toxic and negative emotions, which transcend his parent’s boundaries and infringe upon him, he fields and feels them.
His sense of safety is shattered. Safety is like an invisible shield of glass that separates him from the harm of others, but which he never knew he had until it was cracked.

His trust becomes tested, if not altogether lost. Like safety, it is another protective, but invisible layer he never thought about until he no longer had it. Before, he just took it for granted. After his initial parental betrayal, however, he is forced to tolerate his brain’s attempt to convince him to flee or seek refuge from what it believes will result in a replay of that betrayal experienced during his initial trauma. If he disregards its message, his emotions may range from mild anxieties to full-fledged explosions. At times it may win the battle and overtake him, leaving him little later-in-life solution but to isolate.

He has unknowingly been transferred to the wrong side of the fence. Instead of believing that he is on the same side of it as his abusive parent, he suddenly finds that he is on the opposite side of it, yet he does not understand how or why. It is from this position that he secondarily realizes that he will now be reduced to this “enemy” role, forced to live as the target of the parent who should theoretically protect him from such dangerous exposure.

During parental retriggerings or out-and-out insanity flare-ups, family member roles are decidedly amended. Instead of being the son or daughter, he or she becomes the victim. Instead of being the parents, they become the predators, and they will unknowingly serve as the original authority figures in the child’s inside, or home-or-origin, world and represent the subconsciously retriggering ones in the adult’s later-negotiated outside world.

In order to survive, he creates the inner child to escape, but this only arrests his development. Although he may physically grow, he remains emotionally and psychologically stunted, with a severed connection to his Higher Power and others, and is often subjected to reactive thoughts.

His necessary brain rewiring causes him to subconsciously adopt the survival traits, and his focus changes from “love” to just “live.”

Before he lost his safety and trust, he considered people anchors. Now, filtering them through abused eyes, he views them as threats, as his polarity reverses from “attract” to “repel.”

His family’s cohesion has equally been juxtaposed. Instead of living in one he once believed was stitched together by love, he realizes that it is often torn apart by fear, denial, and danger, and, after time, that his own thread has been so worn, that it is frayed beyond recognition.

Physiological reactions created by mostly subconscious thoughts of pending doom and danger cause him to raise his guard and prime him to run, resulting in a considerably higher degree of brain stem, fight-or-flight mechanism functioning and manifesting itself in nerve-related maladies and hypervigilance. Considering others, he will most likely bridge the thought from “Will you hurt me” to “When will you hurt me?”

Until and unless he seeks understanding and recovery, interactions with others may, at times, cause him to ride a seesaw throughout life, which pivots on a power play. Either he will sit on the down or victim side or on the up, authority figure one.

Finally, there is the injustice of it all-of having been trapped and captive in an abusive home without remedy or recourse; of being targeted the way his unrecovered and unempathetic parents once were as children; of being the innocent victim they took their anger and destruction out on; and of being forced to carry the burden of it and pay with his suffering.

This is how abuse shapes an adult child’s life.

 

Adult Business Woes: The Problems of Setting up an Adult Content Site

As with any other business, the adult industry is not without its problems. Beginnings are always tough for any new endeavor. If you plan on starting your own adult site, you may want to consider the following problems that new adult merchants encounter.

1.The ever-tightening law belt against adult-related content – Law enforcement agencies have knuckled down on protecting younger Internet users from exposure to content deemed immoral. Some laws have also been laid down for what’s good for consumption of the general public and what’s not. For instance, the Child Online Protection Act of 1998 makes it illegal for adult site owners to post child pornography, at least in the United States. While the existing laws may not necessarily be able to cover your particular brand of adult content, it cannot be denied that it has had a certain ripple effect throughout the industry. One way to deal with this hindrance to success is simply to know what’s legal and what’s not. Do not risk limiting your goods and services to a genre that may be banned in countries that are major target markets.

2.Hosting limitations – Most web hosts have a contingency against adult-related sites, mostly because they don’t want adult material on their servers. Two other things that go against adult website operators in this context is their demand for high bandwidth and disk space to cover the site’s high traffic, high volume streaming and media-rich content. If you are looking for a host, make sure to get one that will be able to cover both requirements. While some mainstream hosts are willing to work with adult site owners, they may not understand the business as in depth as an industry-specific host could.

3.Difficulty in acquiring an adult merchant account – Perhaps the toughest problem to overcome, acquiring a merchant account can be a time-consuming and difficult process for the adult merchant. First among the things to contend with would be the killer rates. As adult businesses are considered high risk account, they are often subjected to sky-high fees. The best solution to this problem would be to find a payment processor catering specifically to the adult industry. One example would be AdultMerchantPay. This particular online payment processor offers low-cost accounts with no upfront fees. An adult merchant account service provider would also understand the need of the adult merchant for optimum security and should be able to provide this with an advance technology payment gateway.

4.Lack of compelling content available- Webmasters of adult sites are always looking for something fresh and something new. While many sites offer good content, what you should be looking for in a supplier is: 1) variety; 2) original content; and 3) the legal stuff. As previously mentioned, not all content is deemed legal. So aside from looking for the good stuff, make sure you are dealing with the legal ones as well.

5.Market satiated with free products and services – To say that the competition in the adult world is tight is an understatement. There are hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of adult content websites out there. Why should the average consumer pay for your services and goods when a glut of free online adult entertainment content can easily be accessed online? The answer to this problem may be less complex than you think. Offer a service that is different from what everyone else out there has. Focusing on your own niche is the best way to get your audience to be loyal subscribers.

One thing to remember when starting an adult site: With the right mix of marketing savvy, great content and old-fashioned hard work, your adult website can, and most likely will, succeed. While other entertainment businesses may suffer from an economic roller coaster, the adult industry will feel nary a sting from the ups and downs of a country’s financial state. The reason is obvious, access to online adult content is easier to acquire than any other entertainment venue (say movies, plays or fine dining). Adult sites are only a click away and subscriptions to a site will last longer than what a consumer gets when paying for dinner and a movie.

Aside from having accessibility on its side, the probability of its success is also driven by the consistently high demand for adult-related material. Thousands of subscribers keep the industry afloat by continuing to pay big bucks on a recurring basis. So make sure you have original, eye-popping content that is within the legal boundaries of your target market. Get a host that can cater to your specific needs and an adult merchant account provider that will ensure you get paid for all your troubles.

Jessica Gables is a traveling journalist and author of numerous articles published in travel and hotel service sites, television programs and print materials. She is also a large contributor of articles to various online resource sites such as http://www.adultmerchantpay.com garnering the reputation of being a trusted author on various topics. She has a background in photography, videography, pre- and post-production and online affiliate marketing.