nitewets

For those who are curious about—or even noticed—my absence over that past months, this is an update on me. Obviously, if you’re reading this, you now know that I am still typing away. Nothing dire has transpired; in fact, I’m pretty good. 

Basically, on the way to seeming incontinence, rationality—or perhaps just plain old fear—took over. In an word—or a few words—the reality of diaper-dependence was simply something that I couldn’t accept. To that end, I sought medical help to sort things out. With that decision, I separated myself from this site. A big part of this was simply the amount of time that was being consumed. Obviously, there is also the inconvenience, but as I say, a big factor what that I became busy with other priorities.

So, again, I’m good. It’s been a good summer so far, although the last week was brutally hot (30ºC^ + with 95% Relative Humidity) FINALLY, the weather broke two days ago—incredible amount of rain. Yesterday and today, the skies are clear, the humidity is gone and the temperature has moderated into the 20ºC range.

I turn 65 in August. My roommate (non-romantic) of 8 years is moving out in September. She is a minister and is moving closer to her church. I hope to return to university in the fall to finish my degree (and probably start another.

I will show up again, I’m sure. ‘till then, everyone, take care.

——————

^ to convert to ºF, double ºC and add 32.  (Eg. (30ºC x 2)+32=  60+32= 92ºF)

Where have you been sunshine? Was here but you were not

NOW WHAT?

I was asked an interesting question today: “Now what?” I’m not sure, I hadn’t really thought about the ‘Now What?’, of becoming incontinent. I’m not sure that I’m really ‘there’ yet either. You see, since last summer, I’ve been wrestling with wanting to become incontinent at the same time that I was wrestling with even wearing diapers. I was trying not to wear diapers, but seldom going more than a few weeks before I would be another package of diapers to wear for the days that they lasted. The purchase was always prompted by the same feeling, having to hold as I struggled to find a washroom, waited on a bus, sat in a theatre, while shopping or evening writing as I am now. Not infrequently, it would be the need to poo and as I strained to hold, the freedom of diapers to just keep on would entice me back. Diapers are expensive, some $20 CDN for only 12, which, if I was careful and ‘enjoyed’ judiciously might last a week. From prior issues, I pee often but small amounts. I might wet 4 or 5 times in the early morning. To stay dry and change after wetting just wasn’t affordable. I wished that it were. In the right diapers, I could spend the night in bliss, waking wet in the morning with barely a recollection of stirring during the night. 

For a few years now, I’ve known that my disability support for depression would also cover diapers if there was full-time dependence, temporary or permanent. It was necessary to specifically request them from my counsellor. Over and over I shied away from asking. Finally, I found the courage to ask for the forms—Support for Medical Necessities; Incontinence. They stayed on my desk for over a year. When I fell back into diapers last summer, the desire to accept incontinence reappeared. I get a lot of UTIs. Have for years. As a transwoman after vagioplasty (gender reassignment surgery) it comes with my vagina. During those times, I am effectively incontinent, so there’s an established need. As I’ve spoken of elsewhere, I finally asked my doctor to sign off on diapers. He presumed temporarily during a UTI, but again, I was finally able to say that I liked being in diapers although I didn’t quite get to the admission of being AB./DL. I did ask that I be considered fully incontinent.

The forms have been send and diapers are on their way. To get by, I purchased diapers from the pharmacy, and yesterday afternoon became the ‘start’ of incontinence. Now, nearly 9:00 pm, I’ve spent my first full day without regard to how many diapers I’ve required, simply allowing each wetting as it occurred. There’s a momentary sense of imminence, then I wet. Somehow, I’ve completely changed in these few hours. Is this incontinence? Now what?

I still wonder about the coming moment, whether night or day, when I don’t sense that I’m about to wet. That sense, separates me from truly being incontinent. I hold it as an opportunity to pull back from my choice. In the last few years, I’ve had more than a few accidents, not infrequently in public but never on full display. Just the other night, walking my dog in the chill evening air on the street, I sensed too late and wet myself quite noticeably. It was the furtherest point of the walk and I had to walk back down the street in obvious wet leggings. So, “Now what?”

It’s not lost on me that allowing myself to drift into incontinence—potentially permanently as my doctor emphasized, now what? As I’ve been typing away, I’ve dribbled and wet. At this very moment, I’ve begun again just that easily and even at the risk of wetting the bed I’m typing on, It is that simple, Already I have to think about not wetting otherwise I do. Now what? Well, I guess I need a change.

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. 

Have you submitted the forms yet to start getting your diapers? I've read most of your posts, and see that you are conflicted about accepting your desires for incontinence and full time diapers...

I think it's a natural progression, from interest in diapers, to wearing diapers, to desire to become incontinent... I've had my interest in diapers since I was about 6 years old. When I was in my 20's,  I would buy diapers, wear them for a few days, then feel guilty and throw everything away... (The often mentioned "Binge and Purge cycle" that ABDL's talk about..) Then in my 30's and 40's, I started wearing diapers every night, and eventually trained myself to be a bedwetter. My 50's saw me wearing diapers as often as I could in the daytime, and everynight for my now permanent bedwetting. I also started making home-made stents to get the daytime incontinence that I now increasingly desired.

Now at the brink of turning 60,  I look forward to retiring in a few years so I can actively pursue my ultimate goal of becoming TRUELY diaper-dependent and incontinent 24/7, for the rest of my life!! You probably know by now that your "Diaper desires" will never go away. Like so many people on this site, the next logical and emotionally fulfilling step for you is to submit those forms, get your diapers, and become the diaper-dependent, incontinent person that you were always destined to be... 

I was really planning this weekend as one of reading and not wearing diapers. Well, it hasn’t worked out that way. Here, Sunday afternoon, with bright sun streaming through the window onto the couch where I’ve been reading, not only am I diapered but I have both wet and pooed. Don’t get me wrong, I love being in diapers although I have to say I’ve always been very conflicted about it. What’s crazy is that I’m still conflicted after 20 years. 

You must think that I moan about this all the time; I guess that I do. In twenty some years, there’s been no month that I haven’t worn diapers for at least a few days. Now, it seems, I seldom go more than a week or two before I am back in diapers. Today is such a day. I am experiencing a creeping dependence on diapers and I don’t know if I am scared or excited. But today, I just wanted to read.

I have a wonderful place to read. In a bedroom converted to an office is a window wall which faces west. In the afternoon, sun pours in onto a long coach positioned against the wall. It is soft and comfy and, bathed in sun, so pleasant to sit or lie and read. I am most often in the company of one or two of my cats who curl into balls weighing down my outstretched legs. So it is today. 

I began reading just after lunch. I am wearing diapers more often than not a nighttime, changing into panties in the morning. So it was this morning. But I’ve been ‘off’ a bit all morning and after lunch I was still a bit unsettled. This isn’t an infrequent occurrence and often I will change into a diaper, “just in case”. What is happening more and more is that ‘just in case’ becomes ‘case’ and I wet. I suspect that it is a sort of conditioning that has occurred over the years I’ve been wearing diapers. When diapered, I’ve learned to relax. I can be unconcerned with the sense that I have to pee and, with time, that momentary sense no longer triggers me to hold when diapered. There is a moments awareness which, if I don’t immediately act to hold, is followed by peeing. With increasing frequency in the last year, when not in diapers, I sense the need to go, believe I am ‘holding’ only to realize that I haven’t and am wetting myself. It is equal parts exciting, scary and embarrassing. It’s not so bad in the winter as my coats will hide any visible leaks. I am a moth to the flame of incontinence evan as I am rationally scared of that consequence. 

There are certainly moments, when not in diapers, where I realize how awkward being incontinent would be. There are days when I simply don’t want to be diapered.. I’m out walking my dog and as other strollers pass, I consider how ‘normal’ they are and how ‘normal’ I am not. Often, during my morning walk I will both pee and poop my diaper. Then, the return home is in a messy diaper, again as others out for a morning stroll exchange pleasantries. No knowing I am diapered. It is in those moments thaat I wonder why that there is undeniable pleasure in being diapered, in being wet or messy, and yet the conflicting feeling that I wish I weren’t.

So, there I was.. Warmed by the sun, my legs weighed down by my favourite cat, reading “Hume and His Relationship with Religion” on my iPad. But my reading was interrupted by an unsettled tummy. Did I need to pee? Well, not really, I guessed, but I couldn’t concentrate. “I don’t need to be diapered. Really, I don’t. But... “ I read on but was again, and again distracted. Why? Finally, with that inexplicable sense of excitement, fear that like a vapour brushes your tummy, I relented and went to change.

Disposable diapers are expensive. More so, now that when diapered I tend to dribble or I wee frequently. In each instant there is that moment’s sense that I am about to wee and without effort I sense that I am. Without the worry of leaking diapers, and the increasing frequency, it is barely noticeable and when I chose to ‘not be bothered’ I am more aware after by the warm between my legs than during, that I have. That means frequent diaper changes if I wish to be in a dry diaper, or accepting that I am in a wet diaper. To allay the expense, I purchased cloth diapers and plastic panties. These I can change as frequently as I wish. As necessary, I can do a diaper wash. In consequence the cost of being diapered but dry is tolerable. Cloth diapers with plastic pants, however, I find to be clammy and itchy when worn at night. More than a few times, I’ve acquired a UTI. Until cleared with anitibotics, there is no other option for me, but to wear diapers 24/7. But I digress. I had only one disposable diaper left. I changed into a cloth diaper covered with plastic panties and pulled on some leggings. I returned to the cats, the sun, the sofa and my iPad. 

“A good start for understand the English philosopher Hume’s  views on theism is his empiricism... “” ; warmth between my legs, that inexplicable  sensation of foreboding, apprehension, perhaps fear, warmed my tummy as my cheeks were parted by an insisting warmth as my bowels moved and poo pushed into my diaper. A cat is languorously spread in sleep between the recess made my legs. My stomach warms at the realization that this feels so normal and right to me. The feeling of contentment, of properly belonging in diapers, of coming to accept that I find pleasure being incontinent, of realizing that however I protest to you and even myself, my denials of this are disingenuous—I’ve wanted this. 

So, in sharing this with you, the contestation of feelings continue. I’m trying to find my truth. I shouldn’t want to be come incontient, but I’m unable, perhaps to undisciplined—whatever—to stop the drift toward incontinence. Perhaps this emotional struggle has heightened since I came back to Dailydiapers in the summer of last year. I had been out of diapers for more than a few months, but, as always happens, that strange sensation attached to needing to poo, triggered the impulse to buy diapers. Once again, I was lost in that pleasure of peeing and pooping my diaper; that state of unconcern and freedom that when the sensation was felt, there was nothing I need do, but allow myself the freedom to wee and poo. Those feelings, although faltering in moments have increased through the winter. For the first time, I’ve admitted to some friends that I wear diapers—their responses, mostly, were concern for my wellbeing and by the third person it was easy, but also scarily thrilling, to admit that I actually didn’t mind being in diapers. It’s continued to progress as I now openly buy my diapers at the Shopper’s drugstore that I frequent. I’ve finally come to tell my doctor that I wear diapers. 

If needed, my healthcare covers the cost of diapers. In the last few years, I’ve had frequent UTIs during which I am incontinent—the discomfort of trying to hold is acute and most often unsuccessful. Antibiotics are indicated. I’ve had many prescriptions. Finally, stomach knotted and fluttering, I took the forms into him and asked if he would sign off on diapers. Diapers are not uncommon for women my age, and being trans there is a greater instance of incontinence.

“Do you need diapers for full-time use in the day and at night?” My stomach burned at the question—my cheeks too, I’m sure.

”Yes.” I replied in a somewhat strangled voice, realizing the steps I’m taking and the implications. He checked the appropriate boxes. 

“That’s unfortunate.” He said, signing the form and then charting me as incontinent. 

“It’s okay... I actually don’t mind wearing diapers... “ I replied weakly. He handed me the signed forms.

And there they sit, on my desk, ready to be submitted. I have to submit what diapers I want, from where and at what cost. The insurance counsellor was quite matter of fact about it. I am on record; the forms expected. How ironic that theses steps and how I feel parallel the philosophy that I’m reading. It’s called constitutive identity. You are, in the eyes of those who know something about you, made into what they perceive of that information. They know that I wear diapers.. I will be supplied with sufficient diapers to be diapered 24/7. To them I am incontinent with all the implications they draw. To me, I am becoming what they think I am and more. I am a diaper lover. As I type them those words thrill me. A warm that is pleasure. Pleasure that I cannot pull away from. But, I must... I have to get back to my reading.

It is on record that I am incontient. And here I sit in the sun, writing to you in a wet and messy diaper. I don’t know if I’m more scared or pleased. I don’t want to believe that I will become incontinent but maybe I am actually enjoying the sensations of worry, that scariness that comes from a certainty that if I am not willing myself to be incontinent, I’m certainly not willing myself not to be.