Beyond Lady Pandora – Episode12a – The Men In My Life – Beyond Lady Pandora
When life is a dream and you are in a trance much of the time, it’s very hard to advocate for yourself. It’s like sleep walking. Your body is moving, things are happening, you are aware of some of it but it’s like you see through a veil. You are detached. I talk about things I’ve gone through, things that have happened and many times, I’ve been told how strong I am. Strong? Not really. It’s been scary, terrifying really and it has hurt so very deeply that I can only compare it to hurting so bad that you scream and scream until there is no sound, until your lips stop moving, until the screaming is entirely inside. The agony inside of me, it is invisible and sometimes it is veiled enough to almost ignore although it affects me and sometimes, it is raw. Sometimes, I can barely function.
I’ve watched some videos lately about dissociative disorders, especially regarding personalities and I felt conflicted about them. I do not switch on demand. It’s funny, this came to my mind when my therapist stated she wanted to meet my “friends”, meaning the others in me. I cannot just make them come out, it’s not a magic trick, it does not work that way for me and I wonder if something is different about me. I’m just not sure. Mine come out when they want to, I think when I need them or maybe when they think I need them. Is it me thinking or them? laughs. It’s very complicated to consider.
When I left my first husband, when I kicked him out, it shattered me entirely. It broke my heart into pieces. I thought he was my only chance at love and he was so awful, it ended so terribly. I thought I would never love again. He was my first real love. I had known him since I was a child. He was my knight in shining armor turned dragon. I had two small children, my youngest was not doing well developmentally and I knew something was wrong. The doctors could not seem to figure it out. I had a grade 7 education, no family to rely upon, a GED I challenged for, bills up my ass, and I was on my own to provide. I had to find some way to make life work for my children. It did not matter what I had to do or suffer so long as I could continue on for my kids and give them the life they deserved. I had a lot to figure out fast.
Their father broke in, destroyed the whole place, threw furniture about, took things, threatened my life, showed up with money drunk to tease me with it and how he would not help. Yeh, he was a real gem that one, real keeper. Not. I felt like such an idiot for ever having loved him or believed in him. I felt stupid. I felt like everything ever said about me was true and I had very little hope for myself but I had every hope for my children and for their future. I just had to make it happen.
I tried getting a job and a babysitter but I could not afford child care and rent and bills and everything else required. I was starting off in debt. I got a better job as a store manager but my son got sick and the babysitter could not come that day, she was ill. I had not missed any days before that but my boss called demanding I get in and leave my kids alone, if necessary. I was told to choose. I chose my kids. I was fired. I had no one to call, no one to trust. So, I sat there, trying to figure my next step out. What would I do? Of course, my now ex was sure I spent all my time having sex with other men but I did not have the freedom that he did. I had two little boys to try to feed and take care of, to raise. I had no time for anything but that. I saw myself as a failure for these jobs not working out, for not making enough, for getting fired, for failing at marriage. But, I had no time to scream and cry and wail, I had to keep going.
In Canada, in the city I lived in, escorting is a legal job with agencies and licensing requirements. No, not prostitution, escort. I had lost weight both from going without for my kids and running about trying to make things work and I was looking pretty good again. I did not see myself as beautiful or great by any means but I saw an ad and applied to the agency. I had an interview and I was accepted and licensed. In this way, due to my popularity within the agency and with the clients, I was able to support my children and pay a reliable babysitter. I was however still very concerned about my youngest son’s development and wished for more time to really focus on figuring out what was wrong though the doctors we saw seemed useless in this regard. I cannot tell you how tired I was by this point of being looked down upon by everyone and anyone, no matter where I went. I had always lived this truth, I was poor, now I was a poor single mother, I had been the poor street kid. It seemed I could never get on equal footing with everyone else. I worked because I had to and I spent as much time with my children as humanly possible. They were the world and if I could just make their lives ok, I would have served my purpose. I’d be good for something.
My job did not help my feelings of inadequacy or inequality, of course. I was an arm piece, I was a beautiful appropriate fantasy of a woman, a companion of their choosing. I was rated, scored, payed to pretend to like them and enjoy time with them. In the end, I was as meaningful as a new watch or anything else they might enjoy and toss aside. It was not new for me at all, it was all I had ever been to anyone beyond my kids. They amazed me, my boys. They delighted me, surprised me, I loved playing with them, talking to them, watching them learn and grow. They were amazing, incredible little human beings and I wondered how anything that incredible had come out of me. I lived for them. Period.
At night, I sat terrified that their father or some other man would come make good on their word and kill me. I barely slept. I lived in blind terror, being careful, always watchful. Men do not like to lose their pretty toys. One can never tell when they are just trying to scare you or when they will follow through. I was in fear of failing my children in any way. I feared who and what I was, where I had come from, I literally feared everything. Still, no one could see beyond the mask, the smile, the strong front. I was a strong, independent woman. laughs. I was hanging by a string doing mental acrobatics to keep going.
Being a single woman, I would eventually have needs which required some intimacy at some level and I did meet a man. He seemed quite nice, not very attractive but tall and strong, older. He was my type. I wasn’t looking for marriage material. We had a couple of dates. He had children, he gave massages, he treated me well. He really seemed to be quite a catch. He worked, held a decent job. His house was a disgusting mess but I supposed no one was perfect, least of all me. He was hung well, to a point I found outright incredulous. Never have I seen such a monstrosity before or after and honestly, I’m glad I haven’t. No one needs that much. It made for interesting evenings. Honestly, I thought he was fun and interesting. Over time, my ex became increasingly frightening, the bills were high, and this new man seemed to wish more time with me. I obviously needed the help from a perspective of financial means, a room-mate situation would be highly beneficial, especially if it came with added benefits. It would also add a level of safety and protection. Well, at least that was what I thought when we agreed to have us move in.
Of course, it did not take long for him to bring up mention of us swinging with other couples. I’d not had the best experience with that but agreed to try to please him. It did nothing for my ego or feeling not good enough but, hell, why not go along with it anyway because honestly, I did not think I deserved better. This set up worked for a little while and it was during all of this that I was approached by an associate, a lovely young man I worked with, about possibly doing a documentary show about kink. I thought it might be interesting and agreed having no clue what was about to happen in my life. Had I known, I likely would have run the other way. I mean, I did not expect my life to be all roses and lilies but I did not expect it to continually blow up in my face either. I mean, how much crap can one girl walk into, right? I thought I had to be through the worst by now. Boy, was I wrong.
Well, by the time filming began, things were becoming less than rosy in this relationship. Why? Well, this charming man was beginning to show who he really was. He was lying, cheating, lying about it with proof in his face like he could not see it. I met his special needs brother and thought, hey, what a great brother right up until he began verbally abusing him. Of course, I jumped to his defense and this became a huge issue between us immediately. My youngest son was obviously special needs in some way and it became clear that this man saw anything but his idea of “normal” as being substandard. I worried about his brother being alone with him. I worried about him being alone with my kids. We began to argue and I began looking for a place of my own as fast as I could. As things heated up off camera, while doing this documentary, I sent my youngest to my father’s house for a couple weeks because I was that scared for him. I almost had enough money and things arranged for my own apartment when suddenly, things erupted. My youngest son was back, I was about to sign on the apartment and he hit my son. He hit on the bum but hard and though my son was ok, he was of course traumatized. I do not hit my kids. I, of course, was angry, crying, yelling and he told me my son was like a mad dog, needed to be put down. Then, he threw us out on the doorstep. We would have left regardless at that moment but the way he behaved, I saw danger like never before. I knew what he was. He had picked me up like a bag and simply put me on the porch. My kids with me. Like nothing.
Having no option, no way to get the apartment yet, I had to take my children to the only place with a room nearby. My father’s sister. He did not know that address, could not find us. We would be safe from him but I would not be safe from the trauma of being with her and my mother in the same place, with my children. I had never wanted to ever live in the same house as these people ever again. I did not want to be near them. I struggled to get out of there as fast as I could, of course, but every moment felt like an eternity. I had no moment to process any of this however because my children were upset and confused by this situation and my focus had to be on them and keeping them happy and cared for. So, I just kept going and when no one was looking, while everyone slept, I cried and shook then dried my tears and pretended. I did get our place and it was a decent apartment. We moved in and life began slowly getting back to our normal. When the film crew was around, my children were with a babysitter. I would allow nothing to affect them if I could at all help it. Still, I had failed them already, in my opinion, merely by my choices and the results of those choices.
The crew was nice, I adored them really. At this point, I had no use for men in my personal life at all unless they were there to serve my interests. I was completely tired of even trying. What was the love of a man but an excuse to cage, declaw, and hurt a woman anyway? I had spent twenty years trying to be good enough, trying to find love, I was done. I was unlovable, I was hurt, and I was angry. If they could not love me, if they could not be kind, then they would find no place with me unless they were of use. I turned the tables entirely. Men were mere pets and were welcome only at my feet. I had become a Dominatrix. My relationships with men were now for my own benefit and my amusement and the men, they came running. They loved it, they needed it, they craved my disinterest. I was fascinated. Still, it did not much matter to me how fascinating they were. I made clear to the men I met that there was no discussion to be had, no bartering. Any man with me was merely a “puppy”, a pet for whatever I wanted at the time and to be present only when I wanted them present. They had no rights to me, no claim to me. They came when called.
When I had been forced to fight back with my husband, when I had been betrayed and left stranded and helpless twice in a row by two men, something had happened. Life had become dream-like once more. This is how Lady Pandora was born and she was born both hungry and angry. I explored every option, every fetish that interested me. I explored how far these men would go for mere moments of my time. I was exploring, reveling, and enjoying in my free time but still, my focus was on my children. With them, none of this was anywhere near, it was not even a thought. It did not exist. I lived multiple lives. I was the doting, devoted, single mother and the cruel domineering Mistress very separately, there was absolutely no overlap permitted. The two worlds never met.
But, wouldn’t you know that the exes just could not stay away?