The Inner Dominatrix Guide - Become a Badass in Business

My Story

When I started speaking at events and conferences I was floored by the number of people who longed to hear more of my story. They came up after my presentations to ask if my first book covered this or where they could find out the rest of the story.

I will admit I had no intention of going into great depth about my story when I wrote this book but after repeated requests here it is.

Until I was 18 I lived in a mild religious cult with a family who bought in hook, line and sinker. 

I grew up in the home of an Elder (church leader) in the Jehovah Witness religion. This organization does an outstanding job of keeping its disciples insulated among its own kind, which is one of the prominent markers making this religion more of a cult than an organization or belief system.

While I did go to school with kids not of this religion, I was not allowed to socialize with them outside of school. In high school, I purposely sought out the nerdy girls to hang out with. While I got along with everyone, it was easier with the geeky, unpopular group. They did not judge and they never had parties I had to say no to. It was just easier that way.

Because of this, I failed to develop any kind of deep friendships at school so when I chose to walk away from the religion at 18, I walked away from all my family, community and friends.  I did not have much built up in the way of outside support beyond that circle to help me through it.

I moved out of this extremely strict religious household and in with my birth mother. Her home was the extreme opposite of the home I left behind. Here there were free-flowing drugs, alcohol and sex.

It was as if I landed on a planet devoid of gravity, suddenly floating free, without boundaries or a sense of what was okay or not okay. Anything I wanted to try was an option, which sounds great as a teen, but in honesty, it left me lost and grasping at air. Nothing to land my feet solidly on and say, “This is me”.

The choice to leave my father’s home was not simple or easy. However I had been dying inside a little more each day by staying. His religion felt so utterly out of alignment with who I was inside. I had no words for that tiny spark deep inside except that I felt a pull to stand tall in the world, to have people see me and to make a difference.

I had no idea how to do that or even how to articulate what I felt. All I had then was this overwhelming push to get OUT! Eventually, who I longed to become surpassed any fears I had about leaving so out I went into the unknown world.

Recently, while digging into cults, their effects and how we break free of them, I stumbled across something interesting. Those who join cults lose their sense of identity and take on the thoughts and beliefs of the cults out of a necessity to fit in and sometimes in order to survive.

For me, I took on the idea that women were second class to men and were there for the pleasure and service of men. This was preached from the stage and modeled in the hierarchy of who was allowed to lead.

Also deeply embedded in me was this impossible-to-reach ideal of not making too much money, when too much was never defined. However, the most intriguing part for me in my research was if cult survivors finally break free, they gradually return to who they were before joining.

Having grown up in this cult, I had no other identity formed so I had nothing to return to. Instead, I see in hindsight, that for the next 20 years I proceeded to try on both extremes of just about everything out there. I sampled a spectrum of ideas and ways of life until I found the balance point that worked for me.

I tried out alcohol and drugs for a while. I tried abstinence for a while. Eventually I found a balance point of enjoying alcohol without using it to run away from my emotions or painful situations.

I sampled from the wide variety of self help and self improvement programs, getting fully involved. Then I denounced their methods only to later pull some of it back in.

I spent many years attending groups like Al-anon or ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics), which were helpful in gaining clarity on why I was feeling fucked up. At the same time, the programs kept me telling the same story over and over, locking me into my story and victim status.

I also dove headlong into a modality called Access Consciousness, and while it gave me gifts in unlocking things at an energetic level that I had not been able to get to before, it too, was a mixed blessing. The further up I climbed in the learning ladder and title status, the more I saw how insane and dysfunctional the leaders and their system was.

At first it gave me untold freedoms by unlocking my body energetically. Then it became like an abusive boyfriend who loved me deeply at first, showering me with gifts until eventually telling me I was crazy. If I was the broken one and he was perfect, I should adore him.

Thankfully I broke free of that interesting mess too. 

I did the extreme thing with food, too, taking on new eating regimes, going full out, then moving on to another. I embraced raw food with a passion.  I juiced with gusto and then sugar binged like a rock star.

You name it, I likely tried it.

From the outside, this looked really crazy. It was not until I read that information about returning to who you are after you leave a cult that it clicked for me. I needed to try out the extremes and have a contrast in experiences to see what worked for me.

At 19, I signed up at the local massage therapy college and spent the next two years learning way more about the human body than one would possibly think necessary to become a Massage Therapist. I recall sitting in Neurology class, suspecting I had gotten my classes mixed up and that I was in the program for neurosurgeons instead of neurology for massage therapists.

Despite the incredible depth of our schooling, there was still a lot to be learned afterwards. No one talked much about energy work or the emotions of clients. Instead, we were told they were out of the scope of a massage practice and to just stick to the tools of our training.

Being the rebel I am, I thankfully ignored their advice and over the years studied in depth about energy and energy-based psychotherapy tools.

I noticed how intertwined the client’s emotional state was to their physical state. I observed how when they would let go of the emotions attached to things, the muscles also released.

I worked with one client who suffered lower back pain for years. They went to yoga, chiropractic and four other massage therapists before me, with little or no lasting change. Certain the problem lay in the energy/emotional system (it feels different than a physical disruption), I asked questions as I massaged. I moved the energy block by inviting them to talk about the money stress going on in their life. The more they talked, the more the muscles relaxed. By the end of that session the back pain was gone for the first time in years.

Beating on the muscles until they let go was an ineffective use of my time so I coached my clients through an emotional release. The physical complaint also shifted.

While I was quite likely viewed as practicing 'out of the scope of practice', I earned a reputation for resolving problems no one else had been able to get a handle on for the clients. By testing out tools and seeing what worked repeatedly, I began the evolution of my work into the coaching model I use today.

While I was a massage therapist I had one client who remains a dear friend. On her first visit, she disclosed she was actively involved in Kink and there would be times she would have bruises. Anne wanted me to know so that she could talk honestly about where they were from and not have to make up a cover story. She told me so I would not be concerned she was being abused.

The way she disclosed and how she was clearly enthralled with this lifestyle intrigued me. I wanted to know more.

I secretly fantasized about having sex while being handcuffed or tied up, trying out these very kinds of things but I kept pushing them out of my mind. After all, they must have been some crazy warped way my subconscious worked out the abuse I had gone through. Right?

Each time Anne came in, I asked a few more questions about the Kink. Each time Anne openly shared with me in a way that was free of shame. We could have been talking about fine wine.

She loaned me books. One my favourite from those early days was Screw the Roses; Send Me the Thorns by Molly Devon and Philip Miller. A very comprehensive straight talk on how to add S&M into your life in a safe, sane, consensual way. I might have kept this book for a little too long, devouring a little more each night. Savouring the delicious ideas and dreaming of the day when I could try them out.

Actually adding it to my life was left to fantasy land for the most part. The partner I lived with at the time was not really keen on it. Because he was submissive, he was not much help to me in exploring my own submissive side.

Eventually, I gave up my need to change him and left, opening my world to Kink. I went to parties, joined Fet-Life (a Kink version of Facebook), and social gatherings.  I had tea with other kinky people and attended as many workshops as I could.

It became my world outside of work. A world that changed me in more ways than I could have imagined.

For my first party, I went with Anne and her husband and met some more friends there. Anne and her friends kept an eye on me - a common practice in...