Regression For Me (A True Story)

[care_a_lot]

I’ve decided to write another piece. Now I don’t do this very often I tend to be more of a reviewer. My favourite topic to be able to read is gay and lesbian fiction/non fiction/ you name it so long as its gay and lesbian I like it. I’ve had a rough journey coming to where I am currently in life but I know that there’s just a little bit further to go yet.

I have had 4 relationships with women, 2 with men and hated both of them. So it's fairly safe for you to assume that I am a lesbian. I am now into my 5th relationship with a woman and she is in fact a pre-operative male to female transsexual which to me still makes her a female but some people would argue that at this present moment she’s both and some try to convince me that she is a male because of her physical make up forgetting all of the neurons and psychological pieces that make her into a wonderful woman perfect for a lesbian like me.

I have written this piece as a personal piece just for myself but decided to keep it on public view just to see the kind of reactions I get from it. I am going to divulge something about myself which I have never told anybody before except for my wife and that even my friends do not know how deep I go with but I just wanted to get it out into the open for once and for all. Write this piece so that I could understand what has happened to make me the girl I am.

Following is a lot of very sensitive information, a lot of painful times leading to a world of confusion and going forth to who I am today. If you do not keep an open mind and I mean REALLY OPEN then you should not be reading this piece. STOP READING IT RIGHT NOW! Do you understand me? STOP READING IT!

Ok hopefully that should have gotten rid of anyone who will write that I have written this piece to show how much of a pervert that I am or that I am a bad person. If you are still reading this piece then I hope that it is because you are looking to be able to give me encouragement to continue being myself and that it’s ok for me to be honest about myself with those around me.

I suppose this all started when I was seven years old. My parents got divorced. Why is it that often when the parents of a child get divorced the child is the one that gets hurt the most? So many heart breaking stories start with Daddy driving down the street and Mommy holding you in her arms saying “its alright sweet heart, Daddy is not going to be coming back to hurt us again.”

Yes you did hear me right. My mother encouraged me throughout the years to not want to spend time with Dad and it was only when I turned 15 and had been living with him for an entire year that I realised why. I never got along well with my stepfather so at the age of 14 I decided to try living at Dad’s. That’s common for children nowadays so I have been told, to argue with your stepfather day after day after day.

My mother has always been a very dominant woman. I learned early how to give up and give in to her and what she wanted. Even recently instead of getting a spousal ticket to go to America I did a visa waiver for three months and then she tells me that I got it wrong? My wife says that she would be the only woman that has never been to America and yet magically knows all about it.
My father was a submissive man and what I saw with him was that after he left my dominant mothers side he went from woman to woman to woman but I saw one continual thing. “I have to check with my wife”, “I have to know what the Mrs says before I give you a final answer”, “I’m not sure what I’m doing I’m going to have to check with my wife” or my all time favourite “no I can’t go out today my wife wants me to go to X with her” of course when he was only dating these women it was girlfriend but my fathers wife is also a dominant woman even though neither he nor she would admit to it. I adore my stepmother who in fact was deeply into humiliation as a punishment and had often threatened to turn me over her knee. But yet never done it. It became like a disappointment to me and a dream that I wonder if it would ever be fulfilled.

My stepmother, when I was naughty, would stand so close to me that I would on reflex back away from her. Hitting my head against the wall that was no deterrent to her she would continue yelling at me that I was an ugly pathetic little bitch and how nobody could ever love me. My father when he was left alone with me would take out his own frustrations for his submissiveness and inadequacy onto me when I was unable to perform at the standard he wanted. I remember one time when he was trying to help me with the combination on my lock and he said “now change the combination and open it” I told him what the combination I thought I’d changed it to was and then tried to open it and it wouldn’t open! It took me about an hour to get the darn thing to open again and meanwhile in frustration he had opened the back door said “ARE YOU DONE YET?” and come down and kicked me because I was too stupid to get it done faster.

There was one time when my stepmother was upset with me slamming the door every morning when I went to the toilet. She told me I couldn’t go to the toilet anymore in the mornings! Instead I was sent outside to take a pee in the backyard with the dog! I was so embarrassed and tried to pick the least see able spot in the backyard to pee in. When my stepsister came over and asked me to stay the night my stepmother laughed and said “that will be a change for you Nikki!” and Allyson, my stepsister, said, “why’s that Mom?”
“Because you get to pee INSIDE tomorrow morning!”
Allyson gave her a confused look.
“Oh yes we get her to pee outside because she slams the door every morning when she goes to the toilet. We’re teaching her a little lesson.” My father and stepmother just laughed at my embarrassed face and I felt like I would like to have been able to fall through the floor.

When I finally couldn’t take their abuse anymore I came back to my domineering mothers place as almost a refugee would to a refuge. I still remember crying in her arms and saying “Mommy I don’t want to get hit anymore!” she just held me and was quite surprised to hear that was the way that things were like for me. She told my stepfather and my stepfather vowed to keep my father and stepmother away from me. We may have had our continual arguments every day but at least my stepfather in no way would ever abuse me. He knows what abuse is like from his own life and the way his father treated him and vowed to never treat another living soul the way he was treated.

But after I came back from my father and stepmother and their controlling ways I think my mother got confused. She believed that I didn’t need another controlling influence in my life so she became more like my sister than my mother. I call her Mom still and I still have the same respect for her most of the time, but its like you would your big sister not for your own mother. I still also call my stepmother Mom and now after five years of not being able to handle being near her I finally am back to seeing her again and spending some time with her.

But where my relationships are concerned is where it got confusing. You would have thought that I would have hated being dominated after that abuse, been devastated and never trusted anybody again. But somewhere along the lines the idea that this domination was being done out of love somehow clicked into my brain and simply would not click out.

My first relationship was when I was 16 with a girl at a mental institution we were at together. Well can you blame me for needing to go in? I couldn’t understand why my mother never beat me and yet my stepmother and father did!

She was a girl called Melissa it was wonderful to have a girlfriend and I enjoyed having someone who loved me, in fact I couldn’t even touch anyone else but her for going on six months (one month with her and six just not being able to touch anyone else) I loved being able to call her sweet heart and darling, baby, angel and all of those loving names. I loved getting her a yogurt for breakfast and making out with her even though it meant I got thrown in the isolation ward for doing it! She made me feel special but yet there was something wrong with the relationship.

It wasn’t until my first with a guy (Timothy) that I realised what it was. We had been together for six months and he was trying to fool around with me and work out what it was that turned me on. There had to be something. I was 17 and this being my first male relationship I wasn’t too sure about what could possibly cause that reaction, til he spanked me. He found that I reacted when he spanked me but he wanted to explore into BDSM and I didn’t. He scared me with some of the things that he wanted to try and above all he wanted us to have sex, which every time I even thought of it sickened me to the base of my stomach. I remember one time my mother saying to me “Alex are you pregnant its just you haven’t had your period for a few weeks.”
“No Mom I’m not pregnant.”
“Ok, well have you and Timothy had sex? I can understand if you have it’s a normal natural thing for a girl your age to want to do to bring you closer to the boy you love.”
I can still feel that disgusted feeling in the base of my stomach now as I type this and am remembering my reaction to it “EW Gross MOM! I’m never going to have sex with a guy. EVER!” Mom just went quiet and didn’t say anything more.

When I was 18 I fell in love with my best friend. Catherine was her name. I won’t go into too much detail as I pined over her for many years and in fact am guilty of doing it now and then now. I was with her all the time after Tim and I broke it off and she was my biggest support. She was a Muslim girl and somehow holding her in my arms just made me feel, wonderful. It made me feel like I belonged somewhere and that I was safe. She told me she loved me once, but when it came to a choice, being Muslim or being with me, she chose her religious beliefs. Its not like she was born into it she’d just decided to follow in her grandmothers footsteps a few years before but she decided that was the route she would rather take. It broke my heart. We tried for friendship but all I wound up doing was crying so hard that even the people in the street turned to look at me after I’d left her place. I tried to be with her one more time when I was 20, she kissed me and said she didn’t want anyone else but me. But then she ran away again and I found her a while later with a boyfriend and looking at getting married. That hurt. Big time. Still does.

When I was 18 there was Natalie who loved me and tried to be stern with me but said she could never hit me. Now that was the biggest turn off I’ve ever had. I tried to have a relationship where it was equal and tried to be happy but it didn’t work. I tried that again when I was 19 with a girl called Stephanie but we also didn’t work because she was in the closet and I couldn’t handle it.

When I was 20 I had a great friend called Ken. I’d talk to him about everything and he always made me laugh. I should have been intelligent enough to know that when a straight guy is ok with giving you a hug that he wants sex but no I’m not that smart. He and I actually shared a flat together for six months before he realised that I wasn’t capable of giving him what he wanted. He was a great guy and I miss him terribly even to this very day. But he wanted something that I just could not give and that hurt us both terribly. I couldn’t give him my love because I could not love him. My feelings for the past few years were always for women and even though we ****ed around and he was good at playing with me in a sexual way as well it always felt so wrong and so dirty to me. I would have panic attacks all the time, scream during the night and have dizzy spells up to and including falling onto the floor when I was with him. I loved him, he spanked well and made me feel like a woman in some senses, but he also made me feel like a whore and I didn’t like that feeling. Just being with a guy makes me feel that dirty way that you do when someone is molesting you. Just being looked at by a guy can make me feel that way, let alone being with him.

My last relationship was with a girl called Sabina. It was wonderful to get away from that disgusting way Ken was making me feel and get into another relationship with a girl. I told her about my experience with Ken and about how great it felt to be disciplined by him and how I have always wanted to be disciplined by a woman but she couldn’t do it. When push came to crunch she could not live the lifestyle I needed to live in order to live a happy and productive life. Nowadays she is a great friend because she feels guilty over the way we broke it off and over the fact that she could never give me what I wanted. She left me for a girl that she met whilst she was dating me.

But that leaves us to my wife. Barbara. When I met her I was scared of falling in love again. I kind of had feelings for this girl online that I already knew but it didn’t feel that close and I wasn’t capable of getting that hurt by it. But Barbara and my understanding of each other was deeper than that and on a stronger level. I told her about my need for discipline in my life and about how I felt when I was spanked and she understood. But she told me straight from the off that she could not handle me being her slave, which ironically I was quite happy about. I didn’t like the thought of being in slavery because that would mean I could be taken advantage of very easily and I was so scared of getting hurt again. What did develop was a mother/daughter kind of relationship with her playing mommy and me playing the disobedient baby brat role. Maybe its because I’m 35 years younger than her, maybe its because it was just the role I was naturally born to play. But it felt good to me. The idea of her putting me into diapers and expecting me to ask to go to the bathroom felt somehow right and different from all of the pain in the past. It reminded me of a time when I was very little before any of this pain had even started. When I was 5 or 6 long before my parents divorce. My father was barely ever around and when he was just happened to be too busy for his little girl. So my mother was the one looking after me. Holding my hand when we crossed the street, telling me that I was her beautiful little possum and how much she loved me. Reading me stories before I went to sleep and all of those mother things that every one of us knows so well.

It seemed to be that with all of my relationships what I did was regress to that time. I felt loved so I regressed and I needed someone that was strong enough that when I regressed would still be there. Nurturing me. Loving me in a way that felt right to me. Barbara holds me in her arms rocks me and tells me that I’m her beautiful little girl and that she loves me. She understands why I want to crawl across the floor to her and what makes me have a temper tantrum. She gives me toys to play with and takes me to the bathroom when I need to go. She makes sure I eat three healthy meals a day and that I drink enough fluids. She disciplines me like a mother would and she loves me with a fierceness that I never knew could exist in this world for me. I’m looking forward to having her with me here in Australia so that we can live our life together where we belong. I can tell Barbara about anything and not fear her leaving me. She looks after me when I’m sick and protects me like a mother lion protects her cub. I’m looking at a photograph of us together sitting on the couch and I see the same look in her eyes there that I do in my own mothers eyes in the photos we have of her holding me when I was a baby. Maybe all I was looking for when I was lost was a mother to look after me. Maybe I’ve finally found her. I think I have.

When I look again at the photo.

I know I have.

When the need to regress becomes an inner part of you, you live that life in the arms of the one who loves you for who you are. You are the regressed baby at home, being cared for, protected, nurtured, slightly disciplined, loved, and hugged when you need it. When you are outside of the home, and at work, you are the adult professional person, who has responsibility. But at home, you can allow that responsibility to be in someone else's hands