Hello rock, meet hard place

The emotions behind self-discovery and comprehension and the battle to try and share yourself with someone else.  

I am sure that every ABDL at some point has experienced some version of this.  Whether it be within themselves or the desire to have a conversation with someone else we have all struggled with this internal desire to wear diapers or be little.  Starting out in life, this was an internal battle. I would cycle through binge/purge (not always physically, but often emotionally). Even if it was only one diaper or one time that I wanted to be little, it was often followed by shame and guilt surrounding what I was doing.  “Why am I like this?” or “Who was that?”

Many times growing up I would feel that I was someone else, or that I was coming back from being someone else.  In that moment of returned clarity I would wonder who the person was that was making the decisions. I have felt like someone else at times.  I’m not saying anything to the level of multiple personalities or anything in that realm, but I would come to a moment where I was sad at myself and what/who I had been.

I would often try and have internal dialogue and work to understand what I was going through, and the associated feelings.  I never was able to figure things out, and for the first time I am wondering if it because my little side and my adult side were at varying levels of control.  The two, most likely, are not able to discuss at the same time at the same intellectual level. This until recently has been the reality that I lived in.

My first “rock and hard place” scenario where I was unable to properly understand, comprehend, and course correct behaviors.  I was able to suppress, push down, and calm things down for periods of time, but they would always return.  I struggled for more than thirty years in this cycle. The emotional roller coaster taking its toll in different ways throughout my formative years.  I believe this has some relationship to the lack of self-confidence and self-esteem in many teen babies while they grow up. They don’t understand, and often form a hatred or loathing for the inner part of their self that they do not know how to manage.

Perhaps that is why writing has been so therapeutic for me.  I am able to write, and then go back and digest what was written in a way that lets me see another side of myself.  In a way creating two one-sided conversations. In my writing I have been able to look at myself in a more pragmatic fashion.  I am learning how I think I feel about certain things, and then work those things out. I am just beginning to take steps of comprehension on the first things that I wrote about, and this process has been a daily one.  A process that has had emotional ups and downs. The shame and hurt still comes, but in a different way. Wrapped in some understanding that I feel I am able to approach and handle it differently. I am hoping to silo some of these feelings in an effort to keep a balanced life on the whole as I continue to work on myself.

The second “rock and a hard place” is the desire to then reach out and share what you are feeling inside with someone else.  For Teens this is typically a parent, which brings monumental amounts of justified fear to the teenager.  I relate with that fear, and did not share this part of myself at all with my parents except one feigned attempt. That attempts caused me to run for the hills at the first sign of questioning.  I did not feel they could handle the conversation. I hope that my struggles with this will help me to be able to talk with my own littles.  More importantly I hope they will try to talk with me about their own struggles as they look for their own answers. 

Growing up and getting married places ABDLs in a different situation entirely.  The fork in the road places the ABDL to choose whether to tell their significant other, finance, spouse, boy/girlfriend about something they do not understand or choose to push it way, way down in an effort that it will go away or be replaced by something else.  I choose the latter of the two options. Shockingly enough, the desires persisted and I continued to beat myself up. I tried hard to internalize my experience, but I’m sure that some of it came out and I ended up hurting my relationships in some small way. I feel that my wife and I have had an amazing relationship during our marriage, but this continued to play a minor, back seat role in my life.

My decision to tell my wife was somewhat “spur of the moment” and I would advise against that in hindsight.  I do not regret telling my wife, but I piled on diapers to another conversation in an attempt to give my wife anything and everything.  It wasn’t a big issue, as we returned to our lives and there was no immediate emotional fall out. I did have the benefit of vocalizing it for the first time, and began to try different things.  I wore a bit more often, not much more but it was more. I felt I had told her and just releasing the secret had helped me. The real moment of decision, and a more conscious one, was about a month ago when we really talked about it.  She expressed concerns and questions and I began to babble as I was vocalizing so many things for the first time. Nothing can truly prepare you for that moment, but I’m sure there are much better ways to be ready for that conversation than what I did.  My efforts in writing is an attempt to help anyone else be better prepared for either side of this conversation than my wife and I were.

I have increasingly felt the “rock and a hard place” feelings as I continue to work towards inner-comprehension and understanding.  Conversations with my wife will be slow, and I am strapped in for the long haul. This does not make the conversations any less difficult, and the resulting emotions any easier to deal with internally.  The pressure I felt today brought the metaphoric “rock and a hard place” picture into my head, and this post is the result of that stream of consciousness. It hurts, but I hope that it is a refiners fire.  I hope that I will learn and grow, and be able to help my wife understand me a little bit better.

Here’s to progress, one step (or diaper) at a time.

Photo by Oleg Magni from Pexels