Welcome to RMB’s Naked Pictures of Faceless People, a series of guest posts from diverse anonymous bloggers. (Read more about NPFP’s origins.) These are the posts that are jumping to get out of us, but for whatever reason — safety, embarrassment, conflict of interest, protection of loved ones’ reputations or feelings, or so on — we don’t or won’t or can’t post at our own blogs. Anyone, whether blogger or reader only, is welcome to submit or discuss a potential post by emailing me at arwyn at raisingmyboychick dot com.
Even Wild Women Get the Blues
Tonight I am sitting in front of the computer with tears leaking down my cheeks. I cannot let the sobs reach my voice. Any minute, the phone might ring, and I must sound not only happy but sensual, sexual, inviting. No hint of non-lust-inspired huskiness can taint my tone. You see, I am a professional Domme, a phone sex worker, and a well-known leader in my kink1. It’s a small community, the one I inhabit, and I am proud of the contributions I have made. Nevertheless, I am new to pro-ness, and what seemed to make so much sense when I first contemplated it is becoming harder and harder to do.
Why is it so hard? Did I fail to realize that this would be work, more than a 9-5 job? No, I knew that going in. I was aware of the number of hours I’d have to be available. I was aware of the work I would have to do in self-promotion. I was aware that I’d have to maintain a certain image to a certain extent, that there is a romance to what I do and that the consumers of that fantasy do not want it disrupted.
What I failed to take into account was the depression rearing its head again. It had been more than five years since I had emerged into the light again, and I honestly thought it might stay gone. Silly me. It never stays gone.
What I failed to take into account was family crisis after economical crisis after personal crisis, coming one after another for weeks and months.
What I failed to take into account was my mother fully embracing The Secret and alternative healing, and with them all the subtle and not-so-subtle shaming they bring. “You know very well that if you think negative, more negative will come! This last thing proves it! Now you need to ask the help of the Archangel Michael to burn away this awful negativity. What do you mean, you don’t believe in angels? Well, if you won’t even try, things will just keep getting worse. I’m sorry, but I have to divorce myself from your negativity before it affects me. I hope you don’t mind that I’m doing a ritual to cut the ties between us.”
What I failed to take into account was my desire to spend time with my daughter, a teenager who lives with her other parents states away, during the too-brief duration of her visit.
What I failed to take into account is the extent to which the image I maintain for my business would come to control my life. Professional Dommes, after all, are free of any entanglements (except for their adoring worshipers) and are always in control. Never mind that everyone sane knows that’s horsepucky. Pierce the veil of the fantasy in any way, and my paying customers stay away in droves.
This became even more accented in light of my status in the community. I am expected to Have My Shit Together all the time. Even community events which were to be fun and vacations for me ended up being all work and no play. Even non-kink vacation events with people who are aware of my profession became exercises in dealing with Other People’s Baggage because of my work. Even when I said up front “There is an off-duty sign over my head, here,” in advance.
Even writing this much feels like whining. I can’t honestly tell if it’s the depression talking or not. I could enumerate all the depression symptoms, but I am sure everyone actually reading this post is familiar with them. Even if I did, it wouldn’t help. I have become very good at fencing the depression off for a time, maybe even as long as a day. But then the nightmares become even worse. I won’t specify what the nightmares are. They are very triggery for almost all of the few who know about them. But sometimes the nightmares continue right into the waking world, and I have to physically check my body to make sure that it is the way it was the day before. Not just on waking, but for hours after.
The phone is ringing. A customer is on the line.
Please support the Naked Pictures of Faceless People project by commenting on the posts. Comments which attack or attempt to guess the identity or any aspect of the identity of the blogger will be deleted, however. Protect and respect this space as though it were your own work on display here, naked and faceless.
Anonymous comments are welcome on NPFP posts. Simply put “Anonymous” or any pseudonym in Name, and either your own or a fake email addresses (ex firstname.lastname@example.org) as the email. NOTE: If you have a Gravatar associated with your email address, it will show up even with an anonymous name, in which case please use a different or a fake email address.