So when I was about 20 years old my mother introduced me to the world of bdsm. I was still living at home and very much dependent on my mother for approval and emotional support. It began in chat rooms on the internet and evolved into going to clubs with my mother and “dating” people my mother set me up with. At first I liked the clubs and because our boundaries were so badly enmeshed I didn’t always see what was wrong withe me going to fetish clubs with my mother.
I take that back. I didn’t always want to be there by instinct but my rationalizations led me to believe that I was angry my time was being monopolized. I had a very small circle of friends, mostly hand picked by my mom, who condoned and endorsed this behavior. A lot of the time I felt very grown up and special. And part of me liked having a secret to share with my mom.
Things went from experimentation to bad very quickly, with me falling into what I can only liken to the fundamentalists of our already fringe group. It took me about 2 years to get out and when I did I was an emotional wreck.
I’m learning a lot about that time in my life. When I entered therapy I was ashamed and I blamed myself for making horrible choices and being the kind of sick adult (at 20) who would get involved in a sexual underground with my own mother. Only the smallest fraction of me could look at my mother and say “and you did WHAT with your daughter?
Now I’m starting to look at things differently. I need to find a way to accept that the driver of my vehicle at that time was NOT 20 years old, was NOT an adult, and was NOT making informed choices. The Master binding me and leading me by the collar can be called by no other name than swtjaane.
The other day I found some chat transcripts online of the lifestyle that my mother participated in. It was bizarre for me. My mother is dead yet there is her voice. swtjaane. Confirming this twisted life I led, almost like a photograph.
It sent me tumbling back a bit and I connected with an old boyfriend from the time. We were dating when my mom passed in 2001 and had been on and off. He was someone my mom set me up with. He accepted that I no longer wanted to be in the lifestyle but insisted that I allow him to take a submissive to supplement our relationship. I allowed it for a time but eventually that ended too.
As I talked to him I asked him if he wanted to be friends again – saying to him that I missed the friendship and that we were good friends. Before long, maybe 10 minutes into the conversation, the adult part of my brain/personality system yanked back on the reins. I started remembering that a friend does not end a relationship while his “friend’s” mother is dying in the hospital. A “friend” does not cheat on his friend. A “friend” does not take and take and take and never give back. I didn’t want my “friend” back, I wanted my mother back. to hug or to slap her I’m not quite sure.