November 15, 2014
I have talked about this on the past, the many stress related issues I have with using the toilet and how it effects my every day life, but I wanted to expand on it even though I don’t always find it easy to discuss.
The potty has basically dictated my life and however hard it has been to admit I have never truly succeeded at potty training. The adult would find this bizarre as it is the fundamental aspect of growing up and in essence one of the first things we learn. But for me the simple act of ‘going potty’ is fraught with stress and quite frankly a big slice of mystery.
We are taught, conditioned even to use the potty and wean ourselves of the security of nappies. The potty gives us a freedom from nappies but for me it wasn’t freedom, it was like being thrown into a strange new world. I had accidents up to about 6, the worst when at that age I pooped my pants at school.
I learnt to use the potty to a degree and went about the equally stressful task of growing up, yet I still had fundamental problems. I found it harder and harder to pee when others were around and I got worse with wiping. In my late teens, early twenties my mum would often have a quiet word about the state of my pants/boxers and to make sure I wiped properly. As you can imagine this was very embarrassing, why couldn’t I wipe properly?
My problems have meant that I have not gone to certain places because I was concerned about the toilet facilities and that often got amplified to such an extent I would just stay at home. I hated that potty time was the first consideration for me when looking at places to visit.
Work was and is a nightmare, it is simply almost impossible to use public bathrooms as I can’t go with others around, coupled with the anxiety I often feel of being ‘exposed’ on the potty I tend to hold it in. Then there is the urge to just go in my pants that I fight with on an almost daily level. It’s such a strong feeling, I can feel the need to poop for instance and I have to wrestle with myself not to just let go, it feels more strange in a way to stop what I am doing and go to the potty than to just poop myself.
Mummy understood this and it was my potty problems that helped her work out my real emotional age – 2. She also knew that for my own health I should be in nappies 24/7. Of course the reality of wearing nappies 24/7 is something else especially in terms of work and changing yourself, I don’t know how the office I work in would react to the waft of a dirty nappy hitting their nostrils lol, but what Mummy of course meant was I should be in nappies 24/7 AND living as a baby girl.
Through every aspect of my life I have always wanted someone to take control of potty time, help me through it, keep me clean. Whether that entailed changing a nappy or sitting me on the potty and standing ‘guard’ while I went and then wiping my bum, it was always there in my mind.
I will always fear the potty, I will never wipe as well as I should, I will leave marks, I will leave dribbles, I accept that, in those simple actions of ‘going’ I will always struggle. And I will always check for the Potty Monster!!!
November 8, 2014
I have not heard anything from mummy and I have to admit to feeling utterly lost. Mummy is my guide, my inspiration and my reason for being and the notion that she may not be in my life scares me. I have had mummies in the past who I have lost contact with for various reasons, some just left without a trace and some moved on etc, but with mummy it was different because I never had that fear she would leave.
It’s not really tangible to correlate into words what mummy means to me or what she has done for me, but in essence she took a confused sissy and gave her purpose. She understood me more than I did and put me on the path to acceptance of myself. For me she became my world, she allowed me to express my true child nature completely in the safety and security of her loving arms.
She also helped me understand what would happen to me as time killed each new second, how the little girl inside me would ache more and more to flourish, how nappies would become a necessity and eventually Samantha (if allowed) would become all of me.
Each day being an adult gets harder, each conversation a trial by ordeal, each day at work a challenge. It is why I have craved 24/7 life as a little girl so much. Mummy helped me through this and with the added warmth of knowing that at anytime I could pack up and live with her I could get through any day.
Knowing that mummy wanted me, needed me and loved me was like every Christmas present in the world ending up addressed to me. That she wanted me to be her baby girl 24/7 was like finding that one invisible pin in an invisible haystack. To imagine not just the nappy changes, bath time and all the other wonders but feeling that security wrapped up in mummys love is beyond comprehension. And even though this life seemed too far away, just knowing she was there, somewhere, meant I sleep a little easier.
But now I am a little girl lost in limbo, not knowing where her mummy is and it hurts. I love you mummy with all my heart.
November 2, 2014
For those of you who have followed this blog the last few years will know that I have a Mummy who lives in the US (I am in the UK) and we have a pure Mummy/Daughter relationship. It has always been our most fervent wish to live together as Mummy and Daughter with both of us fulfilling our roles full time 24/7. For me to be able to live as a 2 year old girl in every sense, being looked after, dressed, fed in high chair, held and loved was more than my dreams had ever taken me. To be free of adulthood, and encased in my nappies all the time just seemed right.
Of course the real world stepped in and proved that for the time being this was just not feasible as commitments, family etc were barriers that could not be torn down. Mummy was always my strength and my guide, allowing me to see more clearly the life I had always wanted but more than that she gave me unconditional love that only a Mummy could give.
The distance between us and that we have only ever really communicated online meant that when one of us could not get to a computer then we had no real way of letting the other know. I know this will sound a bit strange given the time we have been together but phone calls were not really possible because of time differences and that I do not live alone. My situation means that I can be easily overheard, interrupted so tapping away on a keyboard was the safer option and Mummy knew and understood this. If I could have chatted away on Skype I would have.
I haven’t communicated with Mummy since May of this year, a long expanse of time for me. We last ‘spoke’ when I was due to have a baby weekend and since then nothing. My mind races with possible reasons and my heart hopes that all is well with her. Back in the spring Mummy started a new job and it was that fresh start for her that I put down to her absence, then my thoughts turned to illness or lack of Internet. The reality is I just don’t know and I feel in limbo. Maybe I will write to her, use the old fashioned system my ancestors used. All that really matters to me is that she is well and that she is happy.
The other thing I wanted to talk about is my seemingly ever increasing desire to sleep in a crib/cot. I saw an adult baby video the other day, it was one of those semi forced into babyhood videos with the protagonist unwillingly led into the adult baby world but ultimately accepting and wanting it. What really hooked me was she was put into nappies, nursed, fed in a high chair etc but at the end put down for a nap in an adult sized crib, with teddy bears around her. You could hear the crinkle of the waterproof mattress underneath her and way she was almost wedged between her teddy bears just made me ache and yearn for the same.
When I was a generic child I couldn’t sleep without my own teddy bears next to me, I had the wall one side and my teddy bears the other. From around 6 or 7 I used to have this nightmare that I was being stabbed in the back, I would see a man and almost feel the knife, so the teddy bears (and the wall) protected me. I don’t know where that nightmare came from and it didn’t stay with me too long but the sensation has never left me, even now I will feel a twinge in my back and on occasions I will crave that ‘protection’ again.
Of course I ‘learnt’ to sleep without teddy bears but I have never really lost that need to feel safe and protected and I think that is where a crib comes in, because it’s not an open bed, it is a mini fortress, my own fortress with bars that keep the monsters away and with the added security of thick nappies I cannot imagine a more rest filled sleep.
I have noticed that my baby needs have increased, the lack of physical contact in my life thus craving any human touch, the increase in my potty problems, the feeling of wanting to cry more, it all mounts up. Even at work I have to fight so hard not to let that 2 year old take over. She wants to giggle, go potty in her pants, go for a nap, play silly games, sulk and bits of those feelings seep through. It’s hard. I know many other adult babies & littles go through the same thing.
Maybe one day I will be able to look through the bars of my crib and not see a prison but feel the freedom of security. My comfort.
November 1, 2014
I imagine it is a dream for most sissies/adult little girls to be a Princess, it certainly has been my dream for as long as I can remember. I have often had a kind of negative view of my own desire to be a princess, mainly because of that familiar feeling of just being a man in a dress, but I have got past that because the reality is being a princess comes from within.
Whether it was the Princesses from the fairy tales or the Disney Princesses, I was always fascinated by them as a generic child, as a ‘boy’. In many ways it was the contrast to what boys did that first struck a chord, but also that it was gentle, innocent. Being a boy could be fun sometimes, I didn’t spend my generic childhood in gender trauma, but it sure was frightening sometimes and you couldn’t let your guard down for a moment. But the little girl world, the almost exaggerated girly girly world seemed so care free in terms of expression, there was no need to be tough, rough and sometimes cruel, it was all about friendship, sharing and being kind – well that was my view.
I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to wake up in a room like that, be like those girls.
I now feel the heart of the Princess inside me beating louder and stronger, she dreams of that magical land, of unicorns and rainbows, where the harshness of real world is a distant memory and the monsters cannot reach her.
As my little girl self has evolved she has become more prominent and she lets herself be known during the day in various ways. What is becoming even more clearer is Samantha needs her time in the sun, she needs to express, to create, to just simply be. And she will. I am Samantha.
October 26, 2014
When I started this blog I never would have considered myself an adult baby, sure I loved the cute baby girl dresses and had always had a thing for nappies but an adult baby, oh my no. But when someone enters your life and shows such unconditional love as mummy did and then not only embraces the all of you but also has the knowledge to unwrap the very core of your being, well then it is easy to see yourself as you truly are.
So as I sit here now I can say yep I am an adult baby and an adult toddler.
I guess it all shows the complexity of my nature as it drifts between the ages. I always thought that the little girl inside me was 9, maybe 10 but the reality is she drifts, sometimes she is that 9 year old, sometimes she is 5 and then 2-3. Sometimes she is simply a baby. But my real emotional age, an age that is fixed is 2. That age, emotionally speaking, reflects everything.
In many ways being 9 or even 5 means that at some level you can look after yourself. Ok yes I am an adult, so regardless of the clothes I can look after myself, but as any adult baby will tell you, when you slip into babyhood it is a lot different. The thing about being an adult baby, a toddler, is the very real need to be utterly dependent on someone, to let go of the natural adult instincts. For me that dependence, that need to let go is present all the time and I have long accepted that.
I do know that for many adult babies propose many questions, especially why would an adult want to regress back to infancy? For many it’s just a release, a way to defunct the stress, but for others like me its about regressing to a natural state. That feeling of having someone do everything for you, take care of you is very very strong. It’s not about someone controlling you, it is about BEING a baby/toddler in every possible way.
The main thing I would think most people find bizarre is nappies and the use of. I can understand that. I can now quite easily use my nappies as they are intended and believe me it took a while, maybe not wetting but pooping. But that first time made realise how much I need my nappies. It was mummy who helped me, encouraged me and made me understand the importance of using my nappies.
Now when life allows I will put on my nappies and use them. It is a strange feeling to poop in a nappy, there is that familiar sense of relief, that felling you would expect, then that slight odour hits your nostrils as does the feeling of being so very little. As you finish you can feel the weight behind you, not heavy but there. The smell gets a little stronger but never overpowering, almost comforting. You feel the poop around your bum and you feel even more little and it also feels so natural, however disgusting others may think, it really does. Of course clean up on your own is not fun, but has to be done.
Essentially being a baby/toddler is more than just a part of me. I am an adult baby.
October 26, 2014
It took a film to give me that urge to write and funny enough another one has done the same thing, Like the previous this stirred memories and feelings from my childhood, or lets say my on going childhood. The film is Bad Grandpa so if you haven’t seen it and don’t want to know anything about stop reading now!
I have shared many times triggers when I was growing up which fuelled who I am today and one of these was Beauty Pageants. Whether you agree with Beauty Pageants or not, for me, a confused little boy they were the absolute epiphany of femininity, so far away from the world I had been thrust into.
Peering into their world was magical for me and though I tried to deny it, I ached to be one of them, or maybe more importantly be accepted into that world. I remember vividly my sister going to ballet classes every Saturday and I would have to tag along and sit in the car waiting for her to finish so my mum could take her home. I used to hate it, sitting, waiting, but I also sat there wondering what it was like, envious of her, the ballet costumes, the way the girls all had so much fun without the need to be aggressive.
At the end of each term they would out on a show and I would have to go along. I was annoyed that I was being dragged away from a favourite show, but my mind raced with the longing that maybe, just maybe one of the girls would not be able to go on and they would need to find a replacement and of course that replacement would be me.
Seeing snapshots of Beauty Pageants just fascinated me, all that lace, the frills, the hair!! And then the makeup, how I wanted to be caked in that makeup and glitter, to be pretty, dainty and the like, be with the other girls as an equal even if still a boy.
In Bad Grandpa, again ignoring what the film is about and the context of what happens, a boy becomes a Pageant girl. Ok it does take a turn for the, let’s say fine line of comedy, but the initial set up, seeing the boy dressed and actually quite believable and graceful just pulled on my heart strings, because I could see myself at that tender age of 8, or at least how I would have wanted to see myself at that age.
In our somewhat more tolerant world that on occasions allows those who are “different” to shine, there are Beauty Pageants for boys – see above. Yet the world does still seem to want to take a couple of steps back each time it strives forward in it’s tolerance and acceptance. Maybe it is still fear, I mean if I told everyone I was a sissy or an ALG, some would not bat an eye lid, but others would resent me and view me with suspicion.
I do look back to that awkward, sissy little boy I was and wonder if there were other paths he could have taken, yet in reality that is a fruitless activity, much how I often view this day to day existence to be honest – the cold and dark nights do not a happy little girl make lol.
However I do find that with one foot on the floor of reality, my dreams can still fly free and in them I am a Beauty Pageant Princess!!
October 18, 2014
I guess identity is something everyone seeks, to able to know what you are you, where you belong. Certain words have helped me find my own identity even if those words and that identity is something that has to be hidden from others. Words like sissy, pansy, adult baby, adult little girl, little, they all resonate, even if to others some words mean different things.
One word that strikes more of chord and I think sums up more the complex nature of who I am is child. Because of the very nature of adults dressing as children and of course the misconception that that can and does bring it is always hard to speak about this part of me, but in terms of identity it is important.
Wanting to dress in girls clothes is one thing, wanting to dress as a little girl another, the mere action of putting on clothes that are not deemed socially acceptable does not make you one thing or the other, but the reasons behind it can.
Growing older, maturing, learning, it is all part of adulthood, but when you are a little, a lot of that simply does not take. Of course this doesn’t mean I cannot function as an adult, it means I can’t function fully as an adult, it means to others I can come across childish and what are to most simple tasks are to me almost an ordeal.
I play adult and I can play it quite well at times, but lately that act has begun to slip, it has become tiring to constantly have to think how to act instead of just reacting naturally. My potty problems, my fears and my failure to understand the adult world just make days hard sometimes.
But childhood is that natural state for me, it’s not a cop out because I find adulthood hard, but a reality, my identity. So many times, especially at work, I have just wanted to shout out that I can’t do this, I am only a child!! That though makes me feel guilty so I just get on with it, hoping I do well, wanting so much to hear praise and scared stiff inside that I have made any type of mistake.
Of course this all boils down to why I have had this ache to be a full time little girl because when I really look at my identity, I only see a little girl, a little girl who is scared but ready to really flourish.