Annotations by Sophie (Complete)

[Sophie ♥]

Maybe I have a problem with needing to help people.  First, the forum girl in her quest of self-discovery.  Second, the English girl and her adventure for happiness.  Third, my sister who needed a place in the world.  My dream job is talking to strangers about their feelings.  So it shouldn’t be a surprise when I introduce the last of the three: the writer.

The writer and I were sort of like rivals.  She and I both wrote diaper stories for the internet and - let’s not mince words - was better at it than me.  Her stories were full of passion and longing and emotion.  She had every reader hanging onto the edge of their seat.  I hadn’t written a story like that in a long time and I couldn’t understand why she was so much better at it.  I was jealous.

A few months later, I figured out why she was so much better than me.  More accurately, I figured out why I didn’t write as feverishly and passionately as I did years before.  The difference between us: I was happy, and she was not.

The writer had a wild imagination and a very restrictive lifestyle.  She was married to a woman who didn’t find her attractive or interesting.  She worked many hours of many days and only found one night a week to spend time with her friends.  Most of her time was spent daydreaming of a life she could never have.

She was unhappy and I could tell.  Maybe I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing?  Soon our rivalry evolved into friendship, and that friendship into worry.  I wanted her to be happy.  How could I help?

At first, helping meant working through her problems.  Listening.  Finding solutions.  Trying new things.  But as time went on, it became clear that the problems weren’t getting better.  The solutions weren’t working.  The new things had no effect.  It was the same thing day after day, and the writer thought she was destined to living that life.

I did what I always do: I gave her a way out.  After months of coercing - all too similar to the English girl - she finally left.  She came to live with the three of us - the forum girl, my sister, and myself - and never left.

She doesn’t write as much anymore.  She’s not as fervent or passionate as she once was.  Now she’s so happy that she doesn’t need a constant escape or validation.  She knows she has three people who love her no matter who she is or what she likes.  

In a way, I ended our rivalry.  And I did it the best way I knew how: with kindness.

Annotations by:
Sophie

[Sarah Penguin]

[Wannatripbaby]

Huh. I never put it together that that's why she hasn't been writing much anymore. 

Knowing that, I'll stop wishing she'd get back on the grind and write more lol. ?

[Sophie ♥]

So here I am, in closing, sixteen years after it all started and a lot has changed.  I have three amazing friends who love me more than anyone else may ever be capable.  I take medicine every morning that makes me happier, healthier, and more me.  I have a masters degree in social work and I work as a therapist helping others find their way in the world.

I still can’t sleep all the time and I still get anxious over tiny things, but pacifiers and diapers and all the little things help more than ever.  I attend ageplay conventions, host podcasts, and even make money writing diaper stories.  My third and current therapist constantly works with me on self-compassion and my ability to say no when I don’t want something.

If ten more years has taught me anything, it’s that all my experiences are only a small fraction of who I am.  Mistake after earth-shattering mistake has affected the overall quality of my life by less than a single percent.  Every wrong turn, every wrong word, every ounce of persistent regret and guilt and paralyzing fear has led me no more than one step astray.  Mistakes don’t linger like you think they do.

The future holds a terrifying amount of uncertainty - and often I make decisions that make it more terrifying still - but the easy road is so often the wrong one.  Maybe whatever choice I make isn’t as important as exercising my ability to make it.  The best power humanity has is deciding which experiences create them and which ones become them.

Annotations by:
Sophie

I’m scared for you, because you are choosing to follow a path that makes life so much harder.  But if that path makes you so much happier too, then I will always support it.

     -Mom

[Wannatripbaby]

That was just beautiful start to finish. ???

[Sophie ♥]

24 minutes ago, Wannatripbaby said:

That was just beautiful start to finish. ???

I'm glad you enjoyed it.   If I ever continue this story, I'll try to update this thread.  But for now, I'm all caught up.  Nothing new to report.

[Sarah Penguin]

[diaperpt]

Ups and downs. Much in common with me and so much radically different. That makes life and makes it interesting. Thanks for being vulnerable and sharing all of this. 

 

[YourFNF]

On 5/5/2020 at 10:53 AM, Sophie ♥ said:

But my dissociations were not a dream come true.  Sometimes it was terrifying.  What if it happened while I was at school, or giving a presentation, or driving a car?  What if it happened one day and it never turned off?  What if I was stuck on that couch watching TV for the rest of my life?

To be honest, I don’t think any adult can really be a kid again.  I can pretend.  I can feel the right feelings and think the right thoughts.  I can flood my senses with nostalgia and travel back in time.  But every experience that made me - every girl I liked, every kiss I had and every kiss I didn’t have, every right thing and wrong thing and time I didn’t say no - are only a blink away.

I can never be the younger me, because the younger me isn’t me.  Even if she was everything I wanted to be, she would never know the difference.  In some ways, being Little is better than being little.  When you’re little, you can’t appreciate it.  But when you’re Little, it means something.

A year later, my girlfriend and I broke up.  Since then, I haven’t found myself in that room with the couch and the TV.  I still feel her sometimes, when I’m playing with Legos or watching a cartoon or drifting off to sleep with my teddy bear in my arms.  Sometimes I miss the simplicity of watching her on the TV, but I like it more when I’m only a blink away.

I just need to remember to sometimes take a break.

Annotations by:
Sophie

I don't think I've ever experienced a full break. I've come close once but...... It often feels like there's the smallest degree of separation between me and my actions. A level of detachment that goes beyond apathy to never being 100% present. Like things happen to the entity that is me without actually experiencing them. It's this kind of weird barrier of static only a quantum width wide. So imperceptible that most the time I question whether I'm making it up for attention or forget whether or not it's actually there.

On 5/7/2020 at 12:56 PM, Sophie ♥ said:

So here I am, in closing, sixteen years after it all started and a lot has changed.  I have three amazing friends who love me more than anyone else may ever be capable.  I take medicine every morning that makes me happier, healthier, and more me.  I have a masters degree in social work and I work as a therapist helping others find their way in the world.

I still can’t sleep all the time and I still get anxious over tiny things, but pacifiers and diapers and all the little things help more than ever.  I attend ageplay conventions, host podcasts, and even make money writing diaper stories.  My third and current therapist constantly works with me on self-compassion and my ability to say no when I don’t want something.

If ten more years has taught me anything, it’s that all my experiences are only a small fraction of who I am.  Mistake after earth-shattering mistake has affected the overall quality of my life by less than a single percent.  Every wrong turn, every wrong word, every ounce of persistent regret and guilt and paralyzing fear has led me no more than one step astray.  Mistakes don’t linger like you think they do.

The future holds a terrifying amount of uncertainty - and often I make decisions that make it more terrifying still - but the easy road is so often the wrong one.  Maybe whatever choice I make isn’t as important as exercising my ability to make it.  The best power humanity has is deciding which experiences create them and which ones become them.

Annotations by:
Sophie

I’m scared for you, because you are choosing to follow a path that makes life so much harder.  But if that path makes you so much happier too, then I will always support it.

     -Mom

Thanks so much for sharing girl *hugs on offer*