February 14, 2015
I want to right a wrong. I think my last post came across more negatively than I had intended, it was more a state of society than how I really feel. That said I have felt more detached with life in general, hopefully spring will appear soon not only weather wise but also in my step.
The image above is the type of picture that has always got my heart racing because it was how I pictured the life of a little girl. It is now even more to me because as my body ages my emotional age seems to be more firmly rooted, which I guess as I am a little is too be expected, however it does feel more free within, more dominant and to be honest I have given up trying to control it, I am just too tired to do that. So there are instances when I come across childish, silly etc and that’s ok. I’m not going to skip down the road (tempting as it is), but I am not going to hide the little childish actions anymore. That being said I am always aware that I need to be careful, given how intolerant the world can be, but it is so hard to be an adult when you know you are really anything but.
December 31, 2014
I do not understand you, therefore I find what you do to be disgusting! Weirdo! Pervert! Abnormal beyond abnormal………….
If my husband did that I would throw him out…………
Sitting at my desk in the office and the conversation switches, I feel a slight reddening of my cheeks (face before you ask) and move a little uncomfortable in my chair. Is it hot in here? The conversation is about adult babies and I am in a quandary, should I champion the right to wear a nappy? Should I just let the conversation pass? Or should I go with the majority or in other words the ‘haters’?
Years ago the mere mention of adult babies or crossdressing would have made me a nervous wreck, I would be paranoid that even the way I reacted to hearing those words would give me away. I could vision everyone pointing at me shouting out that they knew I was one. It’s different now, I can sit and just interact as everyone else, even give my views, obviously without openly saying I am a sissy/adult baby/adult little girl etc etc.
So how did I react this time, well I let the conversation pass to a degree, added a few jokes about I was wearing nappies anyway, said each to their own and there are worse things in the world and then did a curtsey and fluttered out of the office. Ok made the last thing up. But to cap it all off someone then said that their friend used to sell their used panties to disgusting, lonely perverted men. Ouch! How do I defend that?
I can see how the extremes in what is ‘normal’ get viewed in certain ways, how a wife would react if after 10 years of marriage her husband said he liked to wear nappies, put on a bonnet and go ‘ga ga’. It’s when the words temper towards hate that I just want to sink into a hole, cover it up and hibernate until that asteroid finally wipes us out. I cannot count the amount of times I have stood in front of the mirror in a stinky, dirty nappy, baby girl dress, pacifier, ringlet wig etc and just thought ‘what the f**k am I doing? I have soiled myself, I am dressed as a baby girl. Why?
But you know why and I know why and it will never go away.
I really tried to say goodbye to Samantha, but all that happened was she just shouted louder. I tried to justify it all, rationalize it, even just forget it, but it is so ingrained in me that I know I can never escape who I am. I am Samantha, I’m a little girl. If that’s disgusting then I guess we are all disgusting.
December 23, 2014
Christmas is a bizarre time of year for me, each year friends slip further away, family always distant and the faint cheer from others just gets washed over the hum of expectancy. For the first time I do not have Mummy at Christmas and I now have to come to terms that she is not going to be in my life anymore. I should be used to it, I have had people in the past draw close and then vanish but it was always different with Mummy, she was always there even when the time we could speak grew further apart.
Christmas is not only bizarre to me it is also a time my depression can take a hold because I allow myself painful reflection. The what if’s the what should bes and the same old who the hell am I? I know it is the same for a lot of people, the never ending build up, the not so welcome climax and then the thought of at least 2 months of winter. But this year, this irrelevant year of nothing that flew by in the blink of twitchers eye, leaves me cold but with only a tiny bit of hope that for once in my life I can find my place.
I can stop being who I am but maybe it is time to try. Maybe it is time to face up to the fact I will always be that person who talks the talk, gushes about how they want this idyllic life but will always be too scared to do anything about it. Maybe it is time to find something different in life, a different focus, let Samantha fade back into the dreams she came from and live life, because after 7 years I have not really done a thing. Maybe it is time to say goodbye to Samantha and just let those feelings come and go as and when they do as if they are someone elses.
I will be honest and don’t look into this more than it is, don’t analyse it and twist it’s meaning, but I have never understood life, I have never understood it’s purpose, it’s point, or rather I don’t know it’s meaning for me. Sometimes, just sometimes when I am so tired from the constant breathing, pain and discomfort I really envy nothing, the purity of non-existence. I guess for all my life I lived it on the edge of fantasy because I could never understand reality, that the real living of life was not in the perfection of fantasy but in that reality of living every day, rain or shine, happy or sad. It’s just I find it so hard.
I know one thing, I don’t want another Mummy and even if I met someone who wanted to be that they wouldn’t be Mummy and I could never let myself trust that they wouldn’t leave. That has been my fault, one of so many, my inability to really trust, yet with Mummy I had allowed myself to trust, to love as only a child could.
So Christmas will be another day, not a sad day, but not an over happy day. Just a day.
Maybe this time next year I will have found a new existence, maybe that should be my Christmas wish?
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.