At some point in my life story, which I am basically journaling, here in my blog, I will return to writing about my years as a dancer, in the nightclubs, and how that gave me both, the opportunity, and, part--- but not all--- of my motive, for doing prostitution. These other things, that I am blogging about, in recent posts, and in this post, are an important part, of the story, too, though, because everything we experience in this life has an effect, on us, in some way--- whether, good, bad, or neutral--- and the things I'm currently describing also contributed and converged with the rest of, what has continued to form, my often poor opinion of people. All of the hurtful experiences with males, in my life, for example, contributed, to the death of my Disney dream--- that silly one, that is cultivated in little girls, from a very young age, to find my 'prince charming' and live 'happily ever after'. Most of what I was shown, by men, and therefore learned, about men, was only, 'nails in the coffin' of that dream. Cumulatively, these males left that for dead, when they were done with me--- and with whatever influence or input they had contributed, to my life--- and, therefore, my view of it. Of them. The male children, which are also brought up watching the same movies, as the girls, don't take away a better life lesson, from them, either. They go home and play knight, alright, but they do not seem to care if their armor is shining. They seem focused on slaying dragons, and winning wars against imagined male foes so that they get the praise and the glory for doing them in, with swords made of cardboard covered in aluminum foil.There is not a thought, in their heads, about any relationship with the princess, if they even consider her, at all, in their playtime fantasy. Males are trained to want to conquer the world. Even in military training, as adults, ingrained in their minds is the message, both implied, and spoken aloud, by their influencers, that women are a weakness, a vulnerability, and a hindrance for them, that they are not to be distracted by. Little boys are told not to cry because of their gender although God gave them tear ducts; and they face a lifetime of not being trained or emotionally equipped to have successful interactions, and relationships, with the other half, of the world's population. As angry as I am, at how men have failed me, I am aware that both sexes are given ideas, and information, that have not served us well, as human beings. I am glad Disney is, now, making movies with, better, role models for their viewers. I'm a female chauvinist [Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: Why I Have Become A Female Chauvinist], to be sure, because of all of my experiences with men, which informed, and therefore formed, my views, on them. But, I do still like certain things, about males. Enough, that I tolerate them. This adamant diatribe describes how I feel in general about the opposite sex. I do have male friends, that I really enjoy socializing with both in person and on social media. There are, also, helpful, and hopeful, stories, such as on the TV newscasts at times, describing how a man went above and beyond to be a blessing to others in this world. A giver, and not a taker. A modern day hero; to show me, that some do exist, here and there. So, I KNOW, that SOME are OUT THERE (although, I am convinced, that there are not nearly enough, of those types, of men). This blog is about MY experiences, in life, though. Including, those with men, which, have not been, as pleasant, or as promising, for me. I never met my hero. I thought that I did. Once (upon a time) in my life. But, I was wrong. He, just used me, for sex. A cliche, of how men think and act toward women, in general, if ever there was one.
Sometimes the sheer single-minded simplicity of the thoughts and actions of men can, in certain circumstances, be a delightful and welcome escape, from my more complex, female, mind, with all its meanderings, and musings. This characteristic about them can be a double-edged sword, though. Especially, when, they wield it in someone else's life. This, general, attribute can make men much more likely to be able to be uncommitted, or unfaithful; seemingly unable, or unwilling, to think through (or care, too deeply, if any, at all, about) the impact that they are having on another's life (whether they are someone's boyfriend, boss, or bagging prey in their hunt in the wild). On the one hand, this can make them fun company for me to do things with. On the other hand, they can, leave a wide path of damage, and destruction, in my life (which, separately, and cumulatively, they have) and never even look back, to see me, lying in the dust, of all that. My, general, view, of men became a troubling, panoramic, picture, as it took shape, piece by piece, over my lifetime; much like when I'm assembling a jigsaw puzzle. One, little piece, of that, isn't so revealing, on its own; but when, the larger picture (of who and what men are, to me) began to take shape, I was dismayed, to see that it did not look at all like I thought that it would. Nor, did it end up looking at all as promising, as I had once believed, with all my heart, that it would, and had so deeply needed it to be. I am, way past, 'Once bitten, twice shy', now, with men. I keep my walls up, now, as well as, my standards, for who I allow, into my life. They have to be, people of integrity, honesty, and decency, to even be a friend, now. Not just men. Everyone.
Yes, men's straightforward simplicity can be a relief, when dealing with them, but their lack of emotional depth is a real drain on me as well as a trial and a trauma that I try very hard to keep out, of my life, at this point, to avoid further damage to my soul. The damage done to me, by men, was extremely hard on me when I was young. My ability to endure that type of destruction does not exist anymore, in me, especially now that I am a senior citizen with much more limited ability to claw my way back up, out of the pit, of that hell, they tossed me into; if only due to the arthritis in my fingers. I am very well aware, that I cannot sustain another such injury, to my (well)being--- whether the wounds they have left are scars on my body, or those they inflicted on my very spirit. So, I have serious boundaries, now, and a deep aversion, to any male, trying to convince me, that they will ever bring me more, than they take; to fill me up, instead of, their, usual, draining me dry. That, is the biggest problem, I have with men. Alot, are liars, either by word or by deed. They will set out to achieve a goal, in their interactions with me, that has, often, seemed to be something very much at my expense. I. just. can't. do. that. to. myself. anymore! And, I won't. What I will share, in this post, describes even more of the 'puzzle pieces' falling into place for me regarding who men are; who they decide to be, in this world that I must live in with them. At this point, if I had a choice, I would banish most men I have known from my kingdom forever.
Each one of them created, or contributed, a thought, or emotion, or both, in me, about, who they were, and what they would be, in my life. From my emotionally absent and cold and cruel father, to the Russian-Roulette-selected club customer, out of the hundreds, that propositioned me for sex, night after night, after night, at work, in the nightclubs, who was simply the one I happened to be sitting with when I finally arrived at my behavioral Tipping Point and decided to have sex for money--- each of these men gave me a shove in the direction of my agreeing to have sex by selling my body for money. Many men in this post contributed, to it happening, too, although they would never understand, or acknowledge that, or believe that, unless they were the ones in bed with me for that reason; which is why this is also an important part of my life story to talk about. I still remember me as a little girl, who was so innocent and sweet and giving and just wanted to be loved. I was a sweet, pure, little child who, finding out more and more, while growing up, lost more and more of my innocence. I learned this life would never be as sweet as my dreams. It would instead be more like a nightmare for me, in many ways. In essence, the men in my life stabbed me to death, one sharp blow at a time, until they killed 'me'. What I am now is never going to be as precious, as that person that I was, before this happened to me. I have been twisted, and torn, and tainted, by most of the males in my life; the things they have done, to me. After all, it is one thing, to show me that real life is not a fairytale; but, it is another thing, to teach me, that I will never, in my life, be able to trust that any man, that is in my life, in whatever way, for whatever reason, is not going to let me down or cause me harm in some very significant and scary ways. Who I am, now, is largely what was left after that death of my innocence, and trust, due to how I assimilated all this information, that men, provided me, about themselves, individually and about their gender, as to what manner of creature they are. I so wanted to respect, and admire, men. I really wish that I could do much more, of it, toward many more, of them. They don't provide me reasons to, based on how they behave; especially, toward me. Men are often, such a poor example of MEN.
I'm far from, the only woman, who feels this way, toward men; that struggles to deal with our deep disappointment, in men. What far too many of them are, and are not, in our lives. The airline pilot, 'Sully' Sullenberger, recounted how, he got 'hero sex', from his wife, after he successfully landed his plane, in the Hudson. A song, lamenting a woman's unrequited longing, for the type of man I am talking about, here, which also indicates, through the lyrics, how hard that is to find, is:
Holding Out for a Hero*
Bonnie Tyler
Where have all the good men gone?
And where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night, I toss and I turn,
And I dream of what I need!
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!
Larger than life.
Somewhere after midnight,
In my wildest fantasy;
Somewhere just beyond my reach,
There's someone reaching back for me!
Racing on the thunder, and rising with the heat,
It's gonna take a Superman, to sweep me off my feet!
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above---
Out where the lightning splits the sea---
I could swear there is someone, somewhere, watching me.
Through the wind, and the chill, and the rain,
And the storm, and the flood,
I can feel his approach, like a fire in my blood.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night . . . .
Songwriters: Dean Pitchford and Jim Steinman
When I was a dancer, at The Twenties nightclub, one of the bouncers became my steady boyfriend, for awhile. He looked older, than I was, and the boys that were just ahead of me, when I was in high school, were those being sent to the war in Vietnam. So when Tim told me that he was a Vietnam vet, and shared some 'war stories', with me, of harrowing things he had survived, as a brave military man, I was deeply moved. It didn't hurt that he was fairly good in bed, either. One night, a group of Vietnam veterans, wearing their insignia from their prior service, were in the club. Seeing them, there, I went over to their table, and introduced myself, and was excited to tell them about my boyfriend, Tim, who was close by, working the door, that was right outside the Showgirl Room where I danced that night, as security. Of course, these men wanted to meet Tim, and ask him what branch, of the service, he had been in, and where he was stationed in Nam. When I went to tell him that I wanted to introduce him to them--- telling him that they may have been stationed in the same location he was, which would give them even more in common, to share camaraderie, with one another, Tim refused to come and meet them. At the time, I passed it off as just coming from more of his war trauma, he said, that he suffered from, which he told me was one of the reasons he drank so heavily. He could really put away his rum-and-cokes. I felt sad, that 'my guy' had gone through such awful experiences. Tim seemed, devoted to me, and we had a fun time together. After the bar closed, and the customers had cleared out, some nights when my feet hurt from dancing in my high heels all night, Tim would pick me up (along with my suitcase of costumes, I was carrying in my own hand) and physically carry me out over his shoulder, to his car, to drive us to my apartment!
I never even asked where Tim lived. I assumed he surely had his own apartment. Something about, the rugged way he looked, and the very masculine way that he carried himself caused me to suppose he lived in some, not-so-tidy, bachelor pad. I made alot of money, as a dancer, and my biggest tips came from my dancing at the, prestigious, Twenties--- which was the premier Gentlemen's Club, in Omaha, in those days. So, I lived downtown, in a luxury apartment building, at that time. Being tired, by the end of a long night of being 'on', to entertain the packed club, I would have Tim take us through a restaurant drive thru, for some quick supper, To Go, and then head to my place. I knew I made way better money, than he did as a doorman, so I paid for our food. No big deal. It was his company I cared for. I didn't need Tim's money. We would wolf down our food sitting in my apartment and finish up with 'dessert', in the bedroom. Sigh! I didn't trust many men. But I did trust Tim. I can't believe I'm saying this--- given all the times and ways, men have failed me, in my life--- but, it didn't even occur to me NOT to. I took him AT HIS WORD. I BELIEVED, what Tim TOLD me. Then, everything started to unravel.
He had a brother, Dave, who was incarcerated, in the local jail. I don't recall why. I met him, when Tim went to see him, during visitation hours, one day, and took me along. Dave got out of jail not too long after that and he came to see me one night, to tell me that Tim had lied to me, about who and what he was, and that I should not take anything, he told me, as the truth. I didn't believe Dave since he also came on to me--- his own brother's steady girlfriend!--- by trying to put the moves on me. Soon after this, on Tim's night off, from work, Dave came to show me something that, he said, would prove that he was the one being straight with me, and that, my boyfriend--- his brother--- was lying, to me. Then, Dave pulled out a driver's license. It was Tim's. Dave said that, Tim was home, passed out on his bed; and, that, BOTH OF THEM lived in the BASEMENT of their parents' home. The ID showed Tim was ACTUALLY several years YOUNGER than ME. NOT OLDER. So THERE WAS NO WAY that he could have EVER been in the Vietnam war. Dave, who was NOW the MORE CREDIBLE one, of the two 'boys', said that, Tim had not EVER been, in the military, and certainly, NOT IN A WAR. The birth date was right there, on the ID. Then, as my whole relationship, with Tim, crumbled into pieces, a dancer, told me, that Tim was going over, across the river, to party, for that last hour, that Mickey's Razzle Dazzle was open, in Council Bluffs. The Iowa bars were open until 2 AM while Nebraska bars, like The Twenties, closed at 1 AM back then. While I listened, to one of my co-workers tell me this, about my boyfriend, whom they all knew, I thought back to all the times, lately, that Tim had told me that he could not come up, to my apartment, with me, as he dropped me off there. While giving me his, reasons, for that, before he drove off, those never included that he was headed over to our sister club (both, were Mickey's bars), to try, to pick up a dancer there. I was stunned. How could men say all these lies? To their girlfriend!
She said that he had even been making a point to let it be known that he was my boyfriend, to try to seem more desirable to these other dancers at our sister club, because I was considered to be, and called, one of the Top Three dancers, at The Twenties, at the time, so I was much more than just another dancer in the lineup. It was 'a THING' to be MY boyfriend, at the time. To make matters worse, several of the girls at my own club knew but had not wanted to tell me because they saw how much I liked him, and knew it would crush me. She confronted Tim, and said if he didn't tell me, that she would, because the girls at the Razzle were all saying that "Stevie's boyfriend" was doing all this BEHIND MY BACK. When he refused to COME CLEAN with me, she did. She thought I should know, and SHE WAS RIGHT, about that. The next night, I saw Tim at work. I came up to him, as sweetly, as I always did, to my boyfriend, and even offered to get him a drink. He perked right up at a free rum-and-coke he didn't have to put on his bar tab to come out of his wages. I ordered it "tall", and when it came, I paid for it, tipped the waitress who brought it, then picked it up, held it up high, over Tim's head, like I was, about to make a toast, to 'my man', and poured it all out on him. He was a real rummy, to begin with, so he would not, smell, any different, than he did, any other night, at work. He would just be rather wet and sticky, working his shift. He stood there in total shock, after being 'Babe Baptized', by his drink. Then I told him that I knew. ALL THE CRAP. HIS CRAP! That, he had, TOLD me, and DONE, to me. I told him I found out, that everything he was, and everything we were, was a lie. It was, all, just a lie. Even sweeter still, to soothe my pain, and assuage my rage, what I did to him, about it, got back, to the girls, at our sister club, and NONE OF THEM had anything else to do with him after that. NOBODY wanted a JERK like he had been.
So, if I seem, tough to handle, to men, now, I simply say, to this, DEAL WITH IT. Or, FUCK OFF. It is what it is. YOU MADE ME THIS WAY. You played a part in this. You know you did. You won't admit it, or acknowledge it, but we BOTH know you DEFINITELY DID. Somehow. Some way. I am not mad at GOD because of YOU. I am mad at YOU because of YOU. God gave you Free Will, making you completely accountable for EVERY thing, you do, in this life; just like it does for ME. My sins, are, and will be even further, laid out in this blog, for the world to see. Does that intimidate me? No. I know that I have to stand before my ONE JUDGE, someday, and I am ONLY concerned with what HE thinks about me, and my omissions and commissions. My words. Said, and unsaid. And my deeds, done, and not done. I am very well aware that I'm FULLY ACCOUNTABLE to HIM, for all of these things. Other peoples' sins are ALSO talked about, in this blog, if those had an effect, on me, and on my life. There is a reason, that I titled my blog, "Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul". THIS, is what has made so MUCH of it that way, for me. These sins of others, that were perpetrated against me. Not just from men; but I had, long, looked, to that gender, to provide me with ONE GOOD MAN, from their ranks, that WOULD LOVE ME, right, and well, and bring the healing, to my heart, that ONLY THAT CAN DO for a woman. My mother, caused me a world of hurt, as well, which I am STILL VERY DAMAGED FROM, to this day. But, more of my pain, than not, has come from males, that have been in my life, in some way or other.
Do I sound angry? YOU BET, I AM! I am PISSED OFF, to the CORE, OF MY BEING. However, the TRAGEDY, of that, is that my ANGER is directly proportional, to this deep, stinging, HURT, that men have caused me. This didn't 'just happen', to me; in me; with no provocation, or reason. I was so FULL of LOVE 'once upon a time'. What makes me even madder is that, once a man makes us angry, causing us to feel this way, by mistreating us--- they can't handle our anger at them and don't want to hear anything from a female that is upset with them. They don't want to be held accountable. They don't want to have to explain, to us, why, they did, all that to us, because they know they really have no good explanation for choosing to use us, to lie to us, to mistreat us, to rape us, to be the assholes they can be, to us. So, they infuriate us, by abusing us, in some way, whether, it is physically, mentally, or emotionally, or all, of these, and then, they exit, Stage Left, without a "You didn't deserve this", or so much as an "I'm sorry", or anything to help our healing, from it. Why? Because, MEN FEEL ENTITLED, to TREAT females this way.
Despite what is, apparently, largely the male mindset, toward us, women are not toys. We are not expendable objects, to be consumed, by men, then, what is left, of what we were, just tossed aside, as if we were like bottled water that was only valued until it had quenched their thirst. Misogyny, justifies it, in their minds. Too many men, routinely and regularly do things to women that they'd never want to be done to themselves. Women, unfortunately, get alot, of experience, at being a 'survivor', throughout our lives. We are people. Human beings! Men hurt us. Men harm us. Then, when we get upset, because of being mistreated, so we aren't so much 'fun' for them, anymore, men move on; most likely, to do, similar, damage, in another woman's life, leaving us with a broken life, as a souvenir of their time, in it. In my experience, men have left me worse off, for having known them, and allowing them into my mind, my heart, or my life, in whatever way, they were in it. I have stuffed so much anger, in me, from all this crap, men have done to me, in my life, that I could launch a satellite into space, just from the sheer explosive energy, of that. Instead, I give it to God, who knows all things, and says, "I have heard your prayer, and seen your tears; I will heal you". (2 Kings 20:5 NIV) Yes, there was a time, that men pushed me into prostitution. But, prostitution pushed me into the loving arms of God, where despite all my pain, rage, and deprivation in my life, I am extremely happy! A human being is quite a complicated creation. I have, both, extremes, existing within my soul. Nevertheless, God has saved my soul, and redeemed my life; and although I know (I can clearly see), that I won't be fully healed, of all that has harmed me, until Heaven, I have that hope to hold onto, now, every 'damn' day, on this Earth, and THAT beauty, and truth, and love sees me through all of this and more. Believe it or not, I smile, laugh and feel joy every single day, now, and I even get up, off the couch, just to dance around the livingroom! God, is my life, my everything, and my all-in-all, and, I tell Him that!
So, while I will return to blogging about my dancer days, in the near future, God Willing, to finish talking about how I finally ended up doing prostitution (enough, times, that I labeled those deeds, 'the dirty dozen'--- times, not number of men; which was much less, because I, mostly, had repeat customers), what happened to me with other men before that also ultimately contributed to that delinquency when I went back to being a dancer, again. When we interact, with other people, they are constantly giving us information, whether, by their words, or by actions, that send us strong signals, not only about who they are but who they think that we are. When women are constantly having it drilled into their brains and seared into their hearts that men see us as only being objects, to fulfill their whims, and wishes, and not as people, worthy of being loved and treated well, that message eventually, and permanently, seeps into our souls in a very toxic way. What goes in, must come out, in some way, or other; and it does. Especially when someone becomes filled to the brim with such poison. I managed to go about 4 decades in my life, still holding out hope, that someone, would treat me right, treat me well, and repair, within me, what was, increasingly, becoming a very dim view, of men, by reinforcing, the little bit, that was left, in me, that still clung to the belief, that 'all men are not this way'. I. really. needed. to. believe. that. But, I cannot go by hearsay, or anyone else's experience with men, to come to my truth about them. I do know some really good guys but they are the exception rather than the rule. They are either gay or married or not someone I could or would be involved with.
My truth, is based on, my own experiences, with men. All that I have known and experienced, of them, and with them, ultimately assessed, as a whole picture, of who and what they are. I wish, there had been more, to convince me, otherwise, than I came to feel, about them. But, that was not the case; and, still, is not the case. Only it doesn't matter now, anyway, because I lost all hope and closed that door, decades ago, now. I just don't have enough faith, in that gender, to extend any more grace to them, to allow them to come into my private life, as who, and what, they claim to be versus who, and what, they have mostly turned out to be. There is that old saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." My giving chances with me to men, went WAY past TWICE in my life. (After all, I was married 5 times, to 4 men, before I stopped even trying that, anymore, in my early thirties.) I, finally, just had to STOP BEING A FOOL, for my own sake. Now, 'I call bullshit' on platitudes that sound nice but aren't true, at least for me; like 'Love conquers all', 'All you need is love', 'Love is all that matters', and so on. Bearing these things in mind, about the damage, that men have steadily done to my life, and to my opinion of them, the following is the next chapter of my story, which describes how, it isn't always just the men whose sins cause me problems:
Being, uncomfortably, aware, of my slowly, but surely, aging out, of the nightclub entertainment profession, I continued to intermittently try to find something else that I would actually enjoying doing (since I really liked being a dancer), between my working at various Go Go bars, in Omaha. So, when my favorite nanny job, in Wappingers Falls, New York, did not work out [Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: Why My Favorite Nanny Job Did Not Last] but I loved New York, I tried to find another nanny job, there. I had first been, to New York, while I was married to, my third husband, Tom, who was from Brooklyn. Before he left for his Air Force remote duty assignment to Korea, as a sergeant and weather forecaster, he had taken me with him to his mother's apartment, there, and we spent several days, while she was at work, going all over Brooklyn, and Manhattan, together, to see the sights. I just naturally took to the high energy of the city and really felt in my element there. Of course, visiting, a place, feels, very different, from, actually living there, which I would come to find out, soon. Meanwhile, I was now, staying with the grandparents of the kids I had been a nanny to, after I was subpoenaed, to appear in court; in order to be able to testify, at a custody hearing. Now that it was over, I needed to move on, and find, another, job and a place to live. For me, the biggest drawback to being a nanny was that, if the job didn't work out, where I lived was, also, gone, and my whole life was upended from all that, while I then had to quickly figure out what to do next. I was trying not to return right away to Omaha. I knew, I could still get hired in the Go Go bars, but, I also knew, I really needed to begin searching harder for an alternative to that. I was 30 now. That is already considered to be 'getting up there' in age for a dancer. But, nannies could be any age from a teenager to a 'granny nanny' depending on family preferences.
So, I placed an ad in the newspaper in New York City, seeking a live-in nanny job there. (Remember, there was no such thing--- even on the horizon--- as internet, back then. Jobs were, mainly, found through (1) newspaper ads, (2) employment agencies and (3) social connections, or word of mouth.) I didn't know anybody in New York except the people in Wappingers Falls, due to my nanny job, there; and nobody in the city, except the woman in Brooklyn who was now my ex-mother-in-law, since Tom and I were divorced. Not someone, I would want, to contact, after divorcing her son, because I am sure that to her I was the villain, in the situation. I did, with Tom, what I have typically done, throughout my life, concerning all my 'problem' people (up until I finally 'had my say' in this blog). From my narcissistic mother, to my half-first cousin (that I had married because I believed he took my virginity from me, when I was only 18; and I was scared, sad, and thought that I had to: Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: My First Marriage: I Grew To Like Him As My Cousin But Not Really As My Husband), plus, other men, that I had married (whose loyal-to-them loved ones, I also interacted with), I knew their 'blindly loyal' loved ones would never have done any less than blame me, for, any, troubles, there were, in these relationships, in the first place. I knew, that I was, naturally, being painted as the 'problem' one in each of these relationships (whether or not anyone inwardly knew or sensed, that it was not as simple as that); if not, by the person, that was in this relationship, with me, then by those, surrounding them, who had, 'blind loyalty' to them. I had become used to people taking sides, based on things like the common bond of blood; although in my case, I didn't even get that from my own relatives, which was an especially tough blow for me, since I was, constantly, coming up against that type of strong bias, in both, my own family, and others, advocating for people, at odds with me.
Sometimes it wasn't even blood. My second husband was adopted by his parents. Yet, they, both, made it abundantly clear, that I was nothing more than some evil temptress, who was not good enough for their son, and stood to derail their son's happy life, and bright future. The facts, had nothing to do with, the way they saw me, or the situation, which, in many ways, was, much more, the opposite of that, despite my not having any advocate, like, they were, for him, to assert that truth, on my behalf. The Flying Monkeys**, were always going to portray it all to be my fault. Yet I said or did nothing at all, to contradict, this mindset, against me, or in any way attempt to set the record straight. I knew all too well that it would be no use. I would never be believed, by them, at least not outwardly, or behaviorally. I also knew, that it would, only make the situation even worse, than it already was, and give them an excuse--- that they were clearly already looking for--- to dislike or blame me even more, for whatever was wrong in these relationships. I am not saying I had no blame at all. But, I am saying that I was an easy target, and, far-too-easily, marked, and made out, to be, the scapegoat, because, it was easier to blame me, who simply, silently, 'stuffed it', whenever this was done to me, rather than, speak up, and demand, to be treated honestly, and fairly, or cause a scene.
That had started, with me knowing, from a very young age, that for some reason that I could not understand, my own mother had decided to make me--- the little girl who loved her--- the target of her narcissism. I, somehow, understood, that I needed to keep that to myself, to 'protect' her, in doing that to me, and not make any waves, if only because, my very survival depended on, this same person also victimizing me. This, maladjustment, transferred into my other relationships from there, as I cowered, before any hint of someone's disapproval, of me, and stayed quiet, so as to (try to) not 'give them cause', to turn against me, like, my mother, had; and was. When it happened anyway, I kept it to myself in order to not upset anyone--- at me--- whether, they were, the perpetrator, their, Flying Monkeys, or, just other people, that I did not want to put in the middle of something, that they might feel that they, then, had to take sides, on (and, possibly, against ME!). I let peoples' opinions, of me, stand, as 'fact'; no matter what, those were. Even when that was something far from the truth. I saw that people, who were 'blindly loyal', to others (whom, I was in a relationship, of any kind, with), for, whatever, reason, bias, or motivation, would take anything, I had to say, about their, 'pride and joy', that was negative, in any way--- even if it was TRUE--- as nothing more, than me 'proving' to them that I was every, horrible, thing, they already wanted to believe of me, in order to justify their believing that I wasn't wronged, but wronged them. I, therefore, had a poor relationship, with Tom's mother, because I had never told her, anything, about how he was toward me or what I had gone through with him. Although I never had that kind of loyalty, from my own mother, I realized that the mothers of everyone else, I ever knew, did have that kind of loyalty, toward them.
I had to list the home phone number of the elderly couple that I was staying with, in the newspaper, to receive calls about my job ad. There weren't any cell phones, back then. Just landlines. I was very discouraged, and apologetic, to these people that, I was a guest, of, when all that I got, as responses to my ad, were men that called me with perverted pretend 'interviews', attempting to engage in phone sex, with me. I actually had to ask the elderly, church-going, couple to make sure that their granddaughters, who came over to visit now, didn't answer the phone, while they were over there. It was a sad, and stressful, situation. I even hated for those older folks, that lived there, to pick up their phone receiver, and hear, some of the things that I was hearing, when I took those calls; always hoping that I would get a serious, viable, inquiry, to my newspaper ad, for a, nanny, job, for me. I did not know then, that, New Yorkers, normally only used domestic employment agencies when hiring their nannies, which made the whole process, more on the up and up. Because of my naivete in this area, opportunistic jerks (who never even knew that I had been a dancer, for that fact to potentially cause this type of reaction, toward me) seized the chance, to call me, and talk dirty, to me. My, sincere, ad made me stand out as a sheep separated from the flock, to them; vulnerable, to a wolf, like them. So, they tried to thrust their, sexual fantasies, into, my ears, on those calls. They didn't know my age, what I looked like, or anything, about me, except that I was a FEMALE, who had, placed a job ad, in a New York City newspaper. Clearly, I was out of my element, dealing with these Big Apple assholes, even though in the nightclubs, back in Omaha, I was no longer naive about that type of environment.
I figured it out, but, embarrassingly, not right away. Not before I had listened to a man on a phone call to me, due to my job ad, whose heavy breathing I attributed to his having respiratory issues, such as asthma. Because, my mind, was focused, on caring for children, and not on the, sexual, desires, of some, disgusting, grown man, his statements didn't raise a flag for me right away. This guy, began the call, by saying that he was seeking a nanny, for his little girl. Since, I had just finished working for a single father, of all girls, that did not raise, any, concern in my mind. Then, he described, how they lived above a, candy, store, which, in New York City, was also not unusual, since most people live in apartments, and many, live above a wide assortment of businesses, which are on the ground floor. He said, that, the little girl liked to go down to the candy store for lollipops; her very favorite candy. Next, he described how he was a strict disciplinarian and gave the girl a spanking "on her bare bottom". At that point, I started to get really uncomfortable. He was supposedly giving his outlook on 'child punishment', in a very, oddly, detailed way. I stopped him, from going further, when the very next sentence, out of his mouth, was how he v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y prepares, to spank her, by "pulling down her frilly pink panties", as, his breathing, got heavier, and faster. I was horrified, disgusted, and embarrassed, that I had not realized, where he was 'coming' from, before the call had gotten this far. Yet again, in my life, I had trusted a man to be respectful, decent, and honorable, toward me. I had given this man the benefit of the doubt; showing him, respect, and deference, as, a potential employer, to me. I had been made a fool of, in return, and had, actually, been, sexually assaulted***, by him, verbally. Being a survivor of stranger rape, it shook me to the core of my being. I screamed at him that I wanted a real job, from my ad that I had placed. Hanging up on him, then, after he simply started snickering; merely amused, at my anger, after I caught on to what he'd just spent several minutes getting away with at my expense. It was infuriating! But, beyond that, it was, also, very unnerving, to me.
When one woman finally called about a live-in nanny job with her, in Manhattan, I was so relieved, and, desperate, by then, that I took the train into the city, on the day that she scheduled the interview, with her, and her 2 kids, even though it was pouring rain, that day. From, sloshing through puddles, as I was coming up out of the subway, near Columbus Circle, to meet her at her residence, in the Symphony House**** apartments, on West 56th Street, everything, about it, just felt wrong to me. I just didn't get a good vibe from her, or her two children; a boy and a girl. I could not continue staying where I was, now--- in the grandparents' house, that was right next door, to the home, where I had just been the live-in nanny, to their granddaughters; while working there for their, almost former, son-in-law, who had threatened to shoot me with a gun, for some reason that was never clear to me. I needed, to make a living, and this family, that I loved, needed, to go on with their own lives, without me in it. I could not work for Gerry ever again, after his threat, toward me, despite how much I loved those 4 daughters, of his, which I had been a nanny to. These grandparents didn't need a long-term guest, although they had been very gracious to me, while I had been staying with them. So, I took the job, with Janet, in New York City, although, I also hoped, that it would turn out better, than 'my gut' told me it was going to; if only because, I needed to move on, with my life, now, and I just didn't know what the answer was for that, at this point. I have learned the hard way, to TRUST MY GUT. This nanny job situation became a real part of that education, for me, too. This new job, in the city, definitely, didn't go well. It started off, badly, never, got better, and, went downhill, from there. It seemed that, New Yorkers, were a whole new breed of people, I was not used to.
Janet was an attractive, petite, blond woman who worked at CNN in news editing. She had gone through a nasty divorce, with a man that was from a quite well-to-do family, as she described it, and, they shared custody, of their 2 children. As it was now the end of the school year she was just sending their boy and girl off to spend the summer vacation with their father's side of the family, so I only got to meet them, during the interview, and never saw them, again. They seemed a bit like spoiled brats, to me. Privileged, and therefore they had an air of entitlement about them. Janet seemed to be trying at least, to be less so, that way, if only in an attempt to converse, with the, potential, nanny, in a more egalitarian manner. She had married into money, she said, but was, now, a working girl, due to their divorce, as she characterized it. After lunch at a restaurant, she took me and the kids over to the brownstone, that she had purchased, and was beginning to have renovated. It always amazed me, how small certain 'rooms' were, in some of the New York City dwellings. The nanny room, was about the size, of a walk-in closet! I truly wasn't sure a bed could even fit, in that space. The neighbors' windows, in the next building, were so close, that I could have reached out and touched them while standing at the only window, in what would be my room in the brownstone. The kids' rooms were small, as well, though. It was just a typical NYC floorplan. I never did end up living there because the job was a disaster. I only had a chance to live in the apartment she was renting, at Symphony House, before I moved on from there; and since the children had both been sent to their father's side of the family for the summer I was never actually their nanny. All in all, it was a strange situation but it would not even be the strangest experience that I had while living in New York. I loved New York, and have always said, that I would probably have never left there, if I could have afforded, to live there, on my own, without being a nanny. Living in the city, itself, was, a bit too stressful, for me, though. I would have much preferred to stay in a more suburban part, of the upstate, and go into the city by train, for shopping and outings. I loved looking out at the view, of the Hudson River, as I took the train, whenever I went down, to NYC, from Dutchess County, when I was a nanny in Wappingers Falls. Life pulls us away from dreams.
The apartment at Symphony House had a surprisingly large master bedroom with bath, but, the rest of it, was a small room with bunk beds, for the two children, a tiny galley kitchen, and a fairly little livingroom which had a bit of a balcony off it. This apartment, appeared to be, about midway up, the tall building. I slept in the children's room, in the lower bunk, since they were away for now. The apartment actually had no room at all for a nanny. Janet said that, we should all be going to the brownstone, by the time they returned after summer vacation. I would find it very hard, to believe, that Janet was a poor communicator. Especially, as her job, at CNN, was specifically to go over the news text that would, eventually, be read, by the anchors, from the teleprompter, to be sure those words said, clearly, what was needed, for the reporting. So, I am not sure why, she seemed to leave out a few very important details about the situation she was bringing me into since she had interviewed me for a job and I clearly needed a paycheck; and to know what was expected of me, in my role in her home. It turned out that she didn't pay me AT ALL while I was there, although she did give me domestic work to do that was basically doing chores as well as running errands for her, like a personal assistant would do for their employer. She had me call around town to find a suitable place to provide cold storage of her real fur coats for the summer months. She had me take a mountain of spikey high heeled shoes, of hers, to a shoe repair, due to the damage done to them by walking over New York City sidewalks and streets. What she never did, was pay me or feed me! She seemed to think that I was somehow independently wealthy, rather than needing immediate income, after being out of work, for a few weeks already, after I stopped working for Gerry, and fled, for my life, when he threatened to 'shoot me with a gun' for some unfathomable reason! She also never brought groceries home, while I was there, or sent me to get any; and there was very, very, little in the apartment, to eat, because Janet was gone, most of the time, and apparently, ate out all the time. Including romantic dinners with her boyfriend, whom I saw in person, only twice, in very awkward situations.
One day, I noticed there was a pair of binoculars, sitting by the livingroom window. Apparently general voyeurism is an accepted practice, for New Yorkers, who are all so tightly packed in, together, in such a relatively small space. It turned out, that I wouldn't need them, to see something quite shocking, though, as I stood there. In another high-rise building, in view of me, at the same level, as the windows of this apartment, a group of grown men were gathering. What got my attention, and my concern, about this, was that they were each wearing long black capes with hoods and were standing together in a small circle. Then to my utter horror and disbelief, one of the men walked over to the open window, and was holding something in his hand. At first, I could not make out what it was, because it was so small. It looked like a caramel-colored creature, of some sort. Then I gasped as I realized that this was a tiny, innocent, very young, kitten, which was about to get 'sacrificed' for the ritual that these men were apparently performing. I watched helplessly as the man held the little animal out the window . . . and then let go. I just covered my mouth in utter horror; and my eyes just welled up with tears as I type this now, some 35 years later. I did not understand what these men were doing, or why. I still do not really know. I just know that it was a cruel, evil, thing, to do, to that precious cat!
My brief time, living in New York City, at Janet's apartment, wasn't all bad though. Janet was almost always gone, so except for the chores I did and running errands for her, I had time to go to places, that interested me; even if I had no money, to do, anything, at those places. On Sunday mornings, I would walk through the city sidewalks, which are inevitably, interminably, obstacle courses of scaffolding from nonstop construction projects, to go to the Nederlander Theatre*****, where the church services, for the Times Square Church, were held. David Wilkerson started that church. He was a significant Christian evangelist, who had such an impact on my budding faith, when I was, a young person, growing up, in North Carolina. His courage, tenacity, and, evangelical, message, of the saving grace, of Jesus Christ, led to gang member, Nicky Cruz, giving his life to Christ. Both men, then led lives devoted to ministering the gospel to others; impacting, the entire world, with the, life-changing, love of Christ! David Wilkerson wrote a book about his experiences, titled, The Cross And The Switchblade, which was made into a movie as well, with Pat Boone playing him and Erik Estrada playing Nicky Cruz. I was always glad and grateful, whenever there was any example, of a man that I could actually look up to, and respect. (I also, went on a trip, with my church group, to hear Nicky Cruz, give his testimony, in person, when I was growing up. He had a thick Latin accent so it was a bit difficult, for me, to understand him, but his gratitude to the Gospel was very clear. I seem to recall he was there under some kind of, incarceration, or restraint, but that was, many, years ago, and I have no idea how that would have worked, exactly; unless, he was, allowed, to go, and speak, under guard, until his sentence was completed, or something, like that. This link, is to a video, of Nicky, many years, after, I went to hear him speak, but still, giving his testimony, to the saving power of the Gospel that transformed him: Nicky Cruz || Testimony - YouTube)
It was, amazing, to sit there, listening to this, fiery, man of God, giving his Sunday sermon, to those of us, who were blessed, to be there, in person. David Wilkerson, was a, surprisingly, small, slender, man who, as I recall, clomped around the stage in cowboy boots, that he wore with his suit. The sight, of this solitary, slight, figure up on stage made his true-life-testimony even more amazing, to me. He would not have looked the least bit intimidating, to the gang members, that could have taken his life, back in the day, when he had loved them so much that he was determined to tell them how much the Lord loved them. Another, interesting aspect, for me, of attending church there, was when he would ask the crowd, that came to hear him, where they were from, at the start of the service. I had lived in Miami, as a nanny, for a short time, and it was, considered, an international city. But, New York, is the quintessential international city! I had never lived, anywhere, like that, before. The people there named not just many states they were from but also many countries. Times Square Church was truly, an international church, from all around the world! Needless to say, Sundays were my time to feel uplifted rather than troubled by the situation at the apartment that continued to not go well. I hoped it would improve.
It didn't, though. One day, for whatever reason, Janet's boyfriend called me from a restaurant, that they were eating out at, together, having dinner, and asked me if I would like for them to bring something back, from there, for me. It seemed, highly likely, that Janet would be, completely, aware, of him offering this, since they were there together. But, the result, of his kind gesture, toward me, by offering me food (which, I actually REALLY NEEDED, as I was all but going hungry, by now) was that she actually screamed at me, after he dropped her off, at her place, along with the piece of cheesecake, that he had bought, for me. I was, totally, perplexed, by this, because she accused me of asking him for food, which I had never done. I had not even said anything to her about how hungry I was there, because she occasionally looked into the same vacant refrigerator and cabinet that I did when hoping to find some morsel, that was never there, so it seemed obvious, to me, that, she knew, I was probably going hungry. Especially, since, she was well aware, that she was not paying me anything, at all, since I had been there. She seemed to have put herself under the impression that my being allowed to live in her New York City apartment while waiting for summer to end, and the children to return to need me as a nanny was reward enough. She had never spelled this out in our interview, and I, frankly, felt too intimidated, by the situation, I was in, to risk, making any waves, about it. I was enjoying, seeing what, living, in New York City, was like. At least, enough, to continue, to struggle, on the last little bit, of my nanny pay, from Wappingers Falls. It was far too small an amount, to eat out on, or anything. But, I was able to get a very few basics, like bread, and peanut butter, from a neighborhood grocery store, to prevent me from starving. Which, I hid, in my room, because I was afraid Janet might eat it, since she looked for things to eat in the kitchen sometimes, while still never buying any groceries, or sending me, with some of her money, to get some. Since, I hadn't figured out, a better, alternative, I was trying, not to rock the boat.
Then, that boat started sinking, on its own, without any help, from me. I came out of the bathroom one morning, after taking a shower, only half-covered-up because nobody was ever there, except Janet and me; and I saw very little, of her, there. I stopped in my tracks, stuck between the bathroom and my bedroom I was headed toward, when I ran into Janet and her boyfriend, both in bathrobes, at least, while he had both hands, holding both of her butt cheeks, through her robe, like he was testing melons. That is the only time that I ever saw him over there, except when he brought her home, after one of their dates. I supposed, that he had stayed the night. I wasn't sure, what, to say, or do, as I tried, to go past them, to go into my room, to get dressed. I just felt, really, awkward, and ill-at-ease. I wanted to give them their privacy, too. Janet was usually gone all day, and out late at night; so, I went to bed before she ever got home. Sometimes, I heard her coming in though, as I lay there in the bunk bed in the children's room. One night quite late, I heard her come in, and the sound, of a man's voice, that I identified as not belonging to her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was always very nice to me, the few times that I saw or spoke to him, in person, or by phone. He had once, offered me tickets, to some special, naval, event, on a ship, docked, at a Manhattan pier, but I didn't know my way around well enough, to feel comfortable going, and I had no money to spend, so I walked everywhere that I did go after I moved there. It was also on a Sunday which was the day that I enjoyed going to church, and then spending time talking with, and getting to know, some of the other people who attended the service. So I thanked him but also turned the tickets down. After Janet accused me of 'taking advantage', of him, when he had offered, on his own, and brought me, something to eat--- which was only, one piece of cheesecake--- I didn't want to be screamed at by her again, because of his generosity to give me something I never asked for.
I had no idea that the tickets were offered to me to keep me out of the apartment that Sunday, so they could be alone, there. I would have gladly stayed out longer, if I had just been communicated with, about it, by them. We were all adults, after all. However, the way that it had been handled upset me, because I felt like I was being treated like I was some kind of illegal trespasser, at this apartment building. It had frightened me, and I also felt it was over-the-top and uncalled for. As I had returned to Symphony House, after church, and talking with people, from there, I had entered the elevator, and hit the button, for Janet's floor number, as I always did. The elevator began its ascent but after almost getting to the floor it suddenly stopped; and then, started rapidly descending! It was so scary, because I thought that the elevator, I was in, was broken, and that, I might be hurt, or killed, in it! I was all alone in it, too, with no idea, at all, what was going on. I have never been very fond of elevators, to begin with--- especially, when, they are in tall buildings, like, this one was. When the doors opened again, into the lobby area, I went over to the desk, and told them, that, I thought, the elevator was malfunctioning. But, the man standing behind the desk informed me that Janet had called down to the main desk, described me and told him to be sure not to give me access up to the apartment, because she wanted time alone, with her boyfriend, up there. When I asked him why he didn't just tell me that when I entered the lobby on the way to the elevator, he replied that he had not noticed me, until I got on the elevator, so he had, taken remote control, of it, and forced me back down to the lobby. It had scared me, but now I was annoyed. I also wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now. Janet, had said nothing, at all, to me, about wanting me to stay out, longer, that day. I thought it was handled very poorly. In a very rude way. Between, that, and the other ways she had been treating me, I was feeling pretty angry at Janet.
So, back to describing, this one, very late, night, when I heard Janet come home, and a man's voice, that I didn't recognize. It is said, that New York is the city that never sleeps. In some ways that's true. But, I had already been asleep that night, when their two voices woke me, and, I would soon realize, that it was intentional. Janet opened the door to the room I was in where I was clearly already in bed. It was late enough, now, to be the wee hours, of the morning. She had never, done that, before, and I had no idea, why, she was doing it, now. I lay very still, in the completely dark room, hoping that she would go away, thinking, I was still asleep. I was very tired, and did not want to have to deal with her until morning. She did close the door back, when I didn't stir, but, opened it, again, a few minutes, later. I continued to lay very still. My eyes were fully open now, but my back was to the door. I didn't know what she was doing or why. I just wished that she would stop. When it opened a third time, I felt the two kittens being put on my bed, with me, and since Janet had just placed them there to climb all over me, I finally, said, to her, "I was asleep! Is there, some reason, that, you are wanting me to wake up?" Janet said, "Well, now, that you are, awake, I want to talk to you. Come out, into the livingroom." This was a woman that had communicated nothing with me, she should have, the entire time I had been there. Now, she deliberately woke me up at 1 o'clock, in the morning, when, I was clearly, already in bed asleep, to talk?!?
Also, the cats, were an issue, between us, because when I moved in she had told me, how she got both, a male, and a female, cat, because she wanted the two of them to have kittens. (These cats, were even siblings, which increased the risk of genetic defects and health issues!) I answered the phone at the apartment, when Janet was gone, to take messages, for her, and, one day, a woman called, for her, who wanted to know when Janet planned to bring in the two kittens she got from that place, to be spayed and neutered. She had been assured by Janet, when she took the kittens, that she would, definitely, be doing that, with them. Janet would not have been given the kittens by this place, otherwise. The caller worked for an animal organization that required it, of their pet owners, in fact. She was upset at Janet, for not keeping her word and following through. I felt badly, that Janet had misled these people, by not honoring her agreement with this organization, which was trying to reduce the population of animals, through sterilization, because, too many were born only to end up euthanized. The woman only knew, Janet had not done as she promised she would. I did not even tell this very distressed-sounding woman, on the phone, that Janet had told me, that she had no intention, of doing that; and, that, in fact, she was planning for them to have kittens. Nor, did I have any idea, when Janet told me, she planned to breed the cats, that she had gotten them from this place, and had made an agreement with them, not to breed these cats, at all. As I realized more, and more, the weeks that I lived there, that Janet was not a person to deal with people forthrightly, I felt increasingly unsure of and uncomfortable with her. Apparently, she had been, deliberately sidestepping all of this organization's repeated attempts to get her to fulfill her promise to them and schedule those appointments, for these two cats. When I gave Janet the woman's message, from that phone call, she knew, that, I knew, that she had, deliberately, lied to them, and misled them by making a promise that she never even intended to keep, in order to get the cats, in the first place. Hopefully, she was not going to be supplying kittens, to those, black-caped, men, in the nearby building, that had thrown that one, tiny, kitten, out the window, to its most certain death, far below.
I wish I had found another agency, to place me in a position, rather than, running my own job ad in the newspaper, because, apparently, my ad had not had anyone respond to it that, was a good person, or a good employer. However, I was placed by agencies, each time, prior to this, for all of my, previous, nanny jobs (in Miami, Bridgeport, Connecticut, and Wappingers Falls) and, I had 'problem' employers, in some form or another, every time. Also, I had only felt a genuine bond, with the 4 girls that I had just cared for, in Wappingers Falls, out of all, those children, that I was a nanny to. I had, signed up with another agency, in fact, while I was staying with their grandparents, as I began job hunting all over again. That agency was a very prestigious one as well. Before, I had, finally, run my own job ad, to find this nanny job, I had first gone to the Pavillion agency. It was a domestic employment agency, in New York City. That agency had a well-respected reputation for placing domestic staff of all types, including nannies, into the, very finest, homes, in New York City. Once I had signed up, Cliff, from the agency, sent me to interview, with a woman who lived at, one of the best addresses, in all, of New York City, on Park Avenue! She was, also, in a divorce, and had one, young, son, who was preschool age. She did not allow me to even meet the boy, though, for some reason. It was a strange situation. Outwardly, her address placed her at the pinnacle, of success, by New York City standards. Inside, the residence, however, there was only a lone grand piano, sitting in a stripped-bare livingroom, and, only, a few, furnishings, of any kind, anywhere, in the place! I was shocked, that she was actually living, that way, in this place, and could only surmise that, it must have something to do with financial issues, or some division-of-property situation between her and her soon-to-be-ex-husband, due to, the divorce, that she was in the midst of. She did show me around, including, what--- I kid you not--- HAD to be, a CLOSET, which, ALSO had NO furnishings, in it, AT ALL, and she said that, it, was the nanny quarters. It was, in the center, of this, amazingly, spacious, sprawling, place--- in comparison, to, other, New York City homes--- yet, it could not have been, more, than, a 7 x 8 foot 'room'. Much like it was, with Janet, who, I ended up with, from, my own job ad, that I placed, after going to this interview, this woman, was not, forthcoming, at all, with needed answers, to any, of the obvious, if unspoken, questions, that I, or anyone, applying, for this live-in nanny position, would have. Things, like: Was there, GOING to be, FURNITURE? And, Would I be expected to sleep on the floor? It all felt, a bit absurd, to me. We really can't, judge something, from the outside. Anyone passing by this place, at that address, would, probably, long to live there. To me, seeing it, from the inside, it was a train wreck of a situation, I didn't want.
She described her son, only as, having a 'biting problem', where he, for whatever reason, continually sought out other human beings, in order to bite them. I could not imagine what the child was feeling on an emotional level about all the turmoil in his young life, with the divorce, of his parents (and, the disappearance, of their furniture). But, I also didn't feel psychologically equipped, or trained, to deal with his biting issues--- especially when, as the nanny, I would be the one, most often in his path, due to caring for him directly. I listened politely, in the interview, left, and took the train back to Wappingers Falls. When Cliff called me there to tell me she wanted to hire me, I told him that I did not want that job. That, I did not feel that I could handle that position, and I didn't want to cause more upheaval in the child's life, if I tried to take it on, and it did not work out (which is what I thought would happen). Cliff said to me, "You do not understand. You, signed up, with the PAVILLION agency. We SENT you, to one of the, most impressive, clients that we have; at the best address in this city. SHE WANTS TO HIRE YOU. You do NOT say 'NO'." But, I said to Cliff, again, "I won't take that job. I don't think it would work out, and it would be wrong, to put the child, or me, through that. Cliff--- there is NO FURNITURE, AT ALL, in that residence! Did you KNOW that? This woman is in the middle of what's apparently a very messy divorce. I was just in the middle of one, here, in Wappingers Falls, and ended up having to testify in court, with that one. I'M NOT TAKING THAT JOB ON PARK AVENUE." Cliff said, "We CANNOT TELL HER that, YOU, are refusing, HER. That is NOT how domestic employment works, with this agency! If you do not change your mind, be assured we will never send you to another interview, for another position, through our agency. Ever. We are the best. We will lose face, over your turning this job down. That just isn't done." I answered him, "Well, it's done THIS time, because I am NOT taking THAT JOB!"
Now, in the middle of the night, this woman, who had, answered my job ad, was summoning me into the livingroom, to talk to her and a strange man that I have never seen before, and have no idea, who he is, or why he is here, to talk to me. I went into the livingroom, and sat down. Janet said, to me, "This, is not working out, with you here. This is my friend [I cannot recall his name, now]. Tonight, we were sitting in the bar talking, after work, and I told him that I need you to leave here, and he has offered to take you, with him." I stared at her, then at him, and said, "So, you have a nanny position, that you need filled?" He replied, "No, but I told Janet that I can take you with me. We can get your things, and leave now." I looked back, at Janet, and said, "You, and, this guy, that I do not even know, just came from, a bar, and you want me to just GO WITH HIM?!? WHERE? WHY? What am I missing, about this?" She never gave me an answer, to any of my questions, making me even more confused and alarmed. So I said, "I will NOT go with SOME STRANGE MAN, that I DO NOT EVEN KNOW, who doesn't even HAVE a NANNY job for me, in the middle of the night!" This guy, never filled in the details, either. My questions were not answered, nor, my, very real, concerns, addressed. He simply kept saying that he was trying to help Janet out and that he had a car downstairs and I could go with him now. That, Janet, wanted me to go with him, now. It was truly terrifying to me! I suddenly felt, completely violated, and very unsafe. I told them that I wouldn't. I just wouldn't. Then, Janet turned cold, toward me, saying, "Then YOU have 24 hours; to get you, and your belongings (which, I had brought packed in a trunk) OUT OF MY APARTMENT. If you are not out by THEN, I will put your luggage out by the curb, on the street, and you can get it, if, it is still sitting there, when you figure out, where you're going, from here." I was, in total shock.
I knew it hadn't been going well, more due to Janet than me, but I had not spoken out about any of her injustices to me, and I had kept a low profile, around her. We hadn't been fighting or anything like that. Really, she was almost never home, and she had communicated, almost nothing, to me, all along. I had been there several weeks, now. I had never been paid, or fed, by her! But, I had done the chores and run her errands, as well as I would have done for anyone else. I suddenly felt very alone, and very scared. I went out onto the tiny balcony, and sat there, in the pre-dawn dark, looking out over this city, that I knew very little about how to navigate, and that, seemed to be chewing me up, and spitting me out. The yellow cabs, that are everywhere, in New York City, were about the only vehicles, out, on the street, far below me, by this hour. Janet continued talking with the young man, inside the livingroom, just behind me, as I felt the cool night breeze, blowing across my face. Perhaps they thought I was mulling it over and after her threat would decide to go with him. I could not do that! For many reasons, not the least of which, was that I was already a stranger-rape survivor. Once you have been raped, you know it CAN HAPPEN to YOU; and you KNOW it can, happen AGAIN. You NEVER feel completely safe, after that, around ANY man. Especially, one you don't know AT ALL. One that wants you, to JUST TRUST THEM, and go into the dark night, with them, and get in the car, with them, but, they don't need a nanny, and they won't say where it is that they would take you. I was terrified! I, now, had 24 hours, according to Janet to get me and my footlocker of personal belongings out, of her apartment. I didn't know what to do! Lots, of people, are always, seeking domestic employees, in this city, so I knew, there were jobs, out there. I just wasn't sure how I would find one in 24 hours when that clock had already started ticking, in the middle of the night. Even if, I got signed up with another agency, once morning came, their paperwork processing, interview, and background check for it, all takes longer than 24 hours.
** flying monkeys - What Are Flying Monkeys? Beware the Narcissist's Fan Club | Fairy Tale Shadows by Kristen Milstead, an author, researcher, and coach who helps individuals with a history of trauma overcome limiting beliefs and find their voice, so they can empower themselves to choose their own destinies. She has a Ph.D. in Sociology; is a narcissistic abuse survivor. Following, is a compilation, of quotes from her extensive article, that focus on what I'm trying to describe here, that, I have been, put through, by the 'loved ones' around those who mistreated me, adding insult to my injury in the process of that, since their 'blind loyalty' to this person dictated without question, or fairness, or even, at times, truth, that I would be cast in the role of the 'villain' or 'evildoer' in the relationship that I had with each of their 'loved ones':
"Flying monkeys may also engage in neutralization throwing their hands up and saying, 'Well, there’s two sides to every story,' or worse, put the blame on the victims. They listen to the sob stories when the narcissist tries to paint him- self or herself as the real victim and may unwittingly or even knowingly help him or her engage in damaging actions. Or perhaps they just turn a blind eye and refuse to speak up and call the abuse out for what it is. In the true sense of the term 'flying monkeys,' they may act as an extension of the narcissist, parroting his or her manufactured feelings toward a victim. They may act on the narcissist’s wishes regarding a target. This is called abuse-by-proxy. The list of things that they may be tapped to do can include: smear campaigns against the victim, by spreading gossip, planted by the narcissist [and] ostracizing the victim. Because of flying monkeys, the victim can be abused twice: once by the narcissist and again by his or her fan club. Flying monkeys may have a desire to protect the narcissist at all costs, and that loyalty is what the narcissist depends on.Understanding the dynamics of the relationship between a narcissist and his or her flying monkeys can be important because it’s easy to get angry at the flying monkeys for 'not seeing through' him or her. If you really want to believe people are essentially good but they just make mistakes– especially if the person in question is someone you know and care about– you will go to great lengths to protect that belief."
I have known many of these Flying Monkeys in my life. In my close relationships, that I have had with, first, my family of origin (siblings, but, particularly, a sister; and, my father, at times--- although, this enabling behavior, fluctuated, with him, as to, whose 'side he was on', apparently depending on capricious things, like his mood, at the time, and who was, currently, in his favor); and also, with members of my extended family (such as an uncle) as well as with the parents and siblings of men that I married, along with, their employers, or co-workers, at times (such as their unit commander, in the military, who simply, accepted their explanations, about injuries, I suffered, at their hands, in spite of how implausible those things, they said, were; as a show of support for them), which never acknowledged, and therefore, never addressed, their behaviors toward me, that were forms of abuse. My own son, Jay, also, became one, of my, narcissistic, mother's, Flying Monkeys. After all, Flying Monkeys make 'love is blind' excuses for the same people that we ourselves made excuses for, because, we loved them, too. Even when we saw the red flags, warning us of their dysfunctions, which made us their victim they badly mistreated, or outright abused, in whatever ways. We had, also, once loved them and had wanted, even needed, to believe the best, of them, ourselves; as well as needing to convince ourselves that our own love and loyalty for them would deter them from mistreating us (which, we were wrong about, and paid a big price for).
*** "Assaultive behavior ranges from talk, texting, touch, and exhibitionist or voyeuristic behavior to rape and murder. It is sexual assault whenever words and actions of a sexual nature are imposed against another person’s will." From Sexual Assault Is About Power | Psychology Today
**** Symphony House 235 W 56th St, New York, NY 10019. A 44 story building.
https://symphonyhouse.com The apartment building in New York City, New York
*****The Times Square Church briefly held its services in The Town Hall on 43rd Street in Manhattan and then in the Nederlander Theatre on 41st Street. In 1989 the church leased the former, Mark Hellinger Theatre, and bought it, in 1991, for 17 million dollars. Times Square Church is an inter-denominational, multinational congregation, located in the heart of New York City, which was founded by Pastor David Wilkerson, author of the best-selling book, The Cross and the Switchblade.
David Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist, best known, for his book, The Cross and the Switchblade. He was also the founder of an addiction recovery program, Teen Challenge, and founding pastor, of the non-denominational Times Square Church in New York City. In 1958, Pentecostal pastor David Wilkerson, of Assemblies of God, was moved by an article he read, about teenagers, who were members of criminal gangs. All alone, with very little money, he goes to Brooklyn and finds himself, sometimes, in enough danger to be, literally, risking his life, to tell the members of dangerous street gangs about Jesus, giving them the Gospel.
The Cross and the Switchblade, the book which David Wilkerson wrote, about his true experiences, bringing the Gospel, to gang members, is inspirational reading! He met Nicky Cruz, that way; a gang member, that could have taken David's life, but got saved, instead. For some excellent information about Nicky, see this link: https://www.hachette.com.au/nicky-cruz/ . Nicky Cruz, also, became a Christian evangelist, founding, Nicky Cruz Outreach, a Christian ministry. He was once the director of Teen Challenge serving under David Wilkerson, who created that. It's all, a powerful, true, testimony, of how, the love of the Lord can truly transform!
