nitewets

Well, with the cost of diapers sorted, I no longer have to worry about not wearing diapers 24/7. Now, I can just accept the inevitable. This first few days are strange as I'm completely free from worry about wetting and just let it naturally happen. Remarkably, it has. But I've also pooped twice as well. As I've said elsewhere, when I'm honest with myself—it's okay, I don't mind.

I told my best friend that I wear diapers at night and I've told a few other people. There's a natural, common arc to the conversation it seems. The first response is always, "Oh, you poor dear." said with concern or perhaps it's consternation. Not sure. After the first few conversations like this, I've finally found the courage to just say, "No, it's all right. I actually like being in diapers." Those conversations helped me when I finally asked the doctor to chart me as permanently incontinent. Aside from all the pleasure that I get from being in diapers, there is an actual medical need for me but it's been intermittent—when I have a UTI. It was while seeing the doctor for one that I asked if he would sign off on diapers for full-time wear. He understood the occasional need but was a bit concerned about full-time. So, I was prepared to say that I just preferred to be in diapers all the time. I'm also on disability for depression and getting depressed used to put my in diapers as a form of regressing away from stress.

I know that some people wonder why I would want to wear diapers full-time if I could otherwise avoid it. I'm not sure that I really know the answer. I LIKE being in diapers and in the last few years, it's been more and more of a strain to keep cognizant of having to use the toilet. I void frequently, so in social settings that can be distracting and certainly given the length of time I've been in wearing diapers, there can be a bit of panic when even though I realize I need to pee, I can't quite get there before I've wet my panties. That's annoying and if for insurance I wear a pad... well, I might as well be in a diaper.

The interesting part of this is that wearing diapers—way back when—was erotic and titilating, and yes, worn for sexual gratification. That went away a long, long time ago and what remained with the inexplicable desire to just be in a diaper unconcerned about wetting and occasionally pooping. Without the sexual gratification or the titillation of "gosh, I'm wearing a diaper in public" there is only the emotional wellbeing of just BEING in a diaper. 

This is quite a turnaround from last August when, after being away from Dailydiaper for three years, and out of diapers for I'm sure two or so months, that I've progressed to full-time wear.  I'm sure that I'll face days where I just don't want to be diapered, or being diapered will be a real problem. Going to the beach is one such situation and also being out sailing is another. I'm sort of hoping that I'll be able to get by without diapers in those situations. I think that's possible. Night time has already loomed as a worry because it is more the worry that I might wet the bed and I've noticed that if I do sleep without a diaper, I clearly don't sleep as well. I do get through the night still, usually awakening when I'm about to wet, but I think it will be quite alarming if and when I don't wake when I'm about to wet. It's one thing to feel the need to wet and be able to relax and stay cuddly warm knowing that really control is still there, but another on the day I awaken wet and have slept through it.

All these rambling musings aren't intended to explain anything to anyone—it's just my musings about where my life is going. As I've written, certain realizations arise. One is that I'm taking myself to a place—being incontinent—as a form of exploration of all the places of experience I was too afraid to explore when young. A big part of that was the consequence of being a transsexual. Somewhere around six, being about as early as I have memory, I started wearing my sisters' clothes. I didn't think about being a boy or girl, I just liked their clothes better. Around 8, I realized that taking my sisters' things without asking was bad. I still did but felt guilty. I just thought of myself as a 'sister' but was sensing that something was off. Shortly thereafter, I began to realize that being a 'girl'—not me personally, but being a girl in general and mostly conveyed by how the word was said—was lesser than being a boy which seemed always to be said with much pride and respect. Suddenly, I realized that I was a girl but that somehow, no one had realized. Thus began an obsession with 'being a boy'. And it was hard. At about 11, having been wearing my sisters' clothes secretly every other day and almost every night, puberty hit and I discovered masturbation. This paired with older boys introducing Playboy magazines and applying all the lasciviousness a young pubescent male mind is capable of created a horror in me. Here I was—a girl—sitting with boys looking through Playboy pornography (hey, it was the early 60s, it was back then) and outdoing each other with statements of the vile acts they would commit to the girls in the pictures if they had the chance. Maybe because I had started to masturbate in my sisters' clothes, I was actually a boy and just preferred clothes to pictures of girls (which I could only look at enviously wishing I was as pretty). Clearly, I needed to stay away from anything that was sexually arousing. Thus began a process of closing myself off. Stay away from boys who I was finding increasingly physically attractive but otherwise total little shits. I tried to stick with girls but I was now seen as the enemy. I was smart enough to realize that I couldn't claim otherwise. Then at the worst moment, the concept of being 'gay' landed on me.  I would sit in the high school cafeteria dreamily looking at a boy and imagining being in a pretty  dress and kissing him. The vision I had of myself was as a girl, pretty and slim (which I was) but now there was 'being gay'. By the terrible things the boys said, this was 'worse than being a girl'. Far worse. It was justification for harm. I couldn't imagine why. There was no direction to take my emotions and sexual feelings but into hiding in the persona of being a boy during the day and just being my self as a girl at night or when I was alone. And to do that I couldn't look at my body and certainly not between my legs at this horrendous appendage that made me one of those awful boys at school.

Terrified that my father would discover I was a girl and be disappointed, worked as hard as I could at school, never questioned his authority, was obedient, always kept my hair short (this was the 60s, remember) and did everything right so that when I was inevitably discovered as a fraud and not really a boy, there would be other things that might redeem me. I stayed away from anything that might be sexually arousing fearing that my real feelings might take hold and reveal me. Only at night could I dare dream of offering a blowjob to a boy I was crushing on in high school and how wonderful he and I would feel after, only to go to school the next day and hear him and the other boys disparage, scorn and denigrate the girl who had been willing to do so. I began to hate boys. And yet, I did everything a boy should do to show he was a boy until 40 years of age,

At another time, I can elaborate years of crossdressing and the schism of personality to be a woman in private and at night and feign being a man during the day. And every day worse worse than and harder than the day before.

Depression took hold and the stresses of life —and an overwhelming desire—took me into diapers. From the security of diapers, which I took to wearing all the time, I finally revealed to the world that I was a woman. I transitioned. I shed anything male but my desire to be diapered stayed. Now, able to be myself, having friends here I can talk to and who understand me, I can explore the limits of my sexuality in role-plays. And the limits of some of you know are way out there. And in the same way, I'm now driven to claim that I am ABDL, that my life is better in diapers, as inexplicable as it might seem to some.

Even as I write, I know that incontinence relieves me of the same burden I felt when I was trying to 'be a boy'. I live alone now. I don't have a partner, male or female. I am sexual fulfilled in the fantasy of roleplaying with the diaper boys here, the sissies and enjoy the company of the girls in just being friends and nice conversation. I'm not sure I wish to be bowel incontinent, but if it happens I hope I can adjust. I won't go to any great effort to be incontinent; if a toilet is in reach and I realize the need, that's okay. Otherwise, I'm in a diaper and that feels great.