Regression And Hypnotherapy

[turtlepins]

Since the memory of the murder I witnessed at age 5 came back after my first transient ischemic attack TIA (a mini stroke that heals itself) and consequent TIAs, life has been frightening. I'd repressed the memories, could remember nothing beyond age 6, almost 7, even the fact that I had a sister! Last week we went to a black tie affair at a country club and the fountain was made of copper. Blood smells like wet copper. I nearly fainted dead away in the lobby, spent half an hour in the bathroom turning myself completely inside out, and finally managed to take in most of the dinner, though I couldn't eat. I never expected the smell of a copper fountain to allow the memory of the blood blotting out the single light bulb in the ceiling, covering the walls, the carpet, the furniture. I was five again, watching it all, and today I'm pretty much back to normal.

What saved me was my dear wife whispering two words in my ear and touching my neck. I was her baby boy, safe, diapered, loved. She held my hand the entire meal, except to cut her steak or lobster. I simply sat with my head on her arm, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the thickness between my legs, knowing I was completely safe. I've been in hypnotherapy for three years. It's expensive and sometimes takes me places I don't ever want to go. But it has given me pleasure in place of pain, peace in place of total terror, and some other things Mommy wanted.

There are things that delight, and things that frustrate! Mommy can say two words, touch my neck, and take away all my control. She can send me into sissy baby boy mode, or just toddler mode. What's frustrating about that? I cry when I don't get what I want, and sometimes I can't express what I want. I get spanked and it's just like being two and getting spanked. It hurts the heart more than the padded bottom. Although somewhere deep inside I know I could express myself differently I can't. That thrills and scares me sometimes. In sissy baby boy mode I don't like messy diapers, because Mommy doesn't like when the mess leaks out on the rhumba pants. Those stains are hard to get out! I know this, so I sit in my mess and cry until Mommy lays me down and changes me. I remember it all, and that is frustrating too, because I want it all the time!

I don't experience orgasms any more in the sense that I can ejaculate. I can't. But I can feel like I am when I pee in my diapers. It only happens when I'm in sissy baby boy mind or toddler mind. Even in my sleep I kick and giggle. Mommy has a video of that! She has some very embarrassing videos of me, that cause me no embarrassment at all. Well, as long as it's only us watching! I love my hypnotherapist like a second mom. In all these years she's never passed judgement or thought that what we wanted to accomplish was impossible. Between her and my psychologist that I meet with monthly now I stay pretty close to what I can be, and experience what I want to be. So if you're wondering what inspires some of those short stories know that some of it has been my own journey. luv and hugs evybody!