Meet Cinnamon Burdett — Founder, Survivor, and Guide

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I wasn’t just hurt — I was left for dead. My body wasn’t a temple; it was a crime scene. A place where innocence was stolen and my spirit was pinned down, silenced, and left to rot.

I learned early that survival meant silence. Smile pretty. Play nice. Disappear inside yourself so no one sees the screams echoing in your bones.

I became a master of hiding. Hiding my terror behind “I’m fine.” Hiding my rage behind politeness. Hiding my hunger for love behind walls so high no one dared to climb.

I stopped feeling my own skin. I stopped trusting touch — even my own. I forgot what it meant to belong to myself.

I lived half‑alive. Numb. Hollow. I thought if I stayed small enough, quiet enough, broken enough, maybe I’d be safe. Maybe I’d be loved.

But safety doesn’t come from shrinking. Love doesn’t come from disappearing.

Piece by jagged piece, I clawed my way out of that grave. I fought — for my breath, for my body, for the kind of love that doesn’t burn you to the ground.

I learned to touch my scars and whisper, “Thank you for surviving.” I learned to hear my own heartbeat and know I deserve to feel every damn beat of it.

I turned my body from a crime scene into a sanctuary — a place of pleasure, softness, power, and wild, holy rage.

Now, I help others do the same. To reclaim pleasure after pain. To rise from numbness and feel fully alive again. To create intimacy that feels safe and electric. To take up space without apology. To love without shrinking. To be seen in the messy, glorious truth of who they are.

This is for the ones told they’re too much or not enough. For the ones who hid their desires and their bodies. For the ones who forgot they’re allowed to want more — more softness, more heat, more life.

You are not too broken to be loved. You are not your worst day. You are not the violence done to you. You are a living, breathing revolution.

You get to feel good. You get to rise. You get to take up space and rewrite the story — not as a victim, but as a fierce, radiant survivor.

Welcome home to your body. Welcome home to your story. Welcome to your next level.

Survival made me loud. This is not the end of my story. And it sure as hell isn’t the end of yours.