I thought I’d share with you the experiences I’ve had over the last year. In January 2014, I was in a bad way and I remember posting here about my struggles to accept my AB side in that I felt it couldn’t co-exist with my masculine side. I had just come through the second of two brutal cold-turkey withdrawals from benzodiazepines (Valium, Xanax etc) and had also simultaneously quit anabolic steroids and a host of other prescription drugs. I got clean and have remained so since. The steroid use was part of a deeply misguided plan to weight train, increase my muscle and, I hoped, fix the self-esteem and confidence problems that have dogged me for all of my adult life. This, of course was not the right approach but in the state I was in, it seemed like the right thing to do and I desperately clung onto weight training as my saviour. I trained for 6 years, ate 6 meals a day and injected steroids almost continuously for 3 of those 6. I was falling apart; disintegrating and on the road to killing myself. When I was eventually fired from my job I was, at the time, consuming 20 x 10mg Valium/day, 3g of anabolic steroids/week and about 10 different prescription meds daily also. I quit everything at once and bore the brunt of a furious, protracted withdrawal, unassisted.
Whilst all this was going on, I was also studying. I not only passed, but excelled on my course, despite the chaotic, turbulent experience I was having. As the withdrawal subsided and my hormones rebalanced, it felt like a weight had been lifted off me. I was a slave to weight training regime; looking back, it was madness, pure self-torture. I sacrificed most things in pursuit of training, eating and acquiring and using drugs. My life was dictated by the hands on the clock and eating at least every 3 hours or risk losing it all – I was motivated my unadulterated terror.
Through the withdrawal, I came to realise just how skewed and distorted my views on masculinity and femininity were; how jaded, rigid, archaic and soulless my beliefs were on gender roles, sexuality and humanity. I’ve since dropped all that and accepted and embraced myself and my AB lifestyle. Every day I become more and more like the person I was meant to be.
On 25th June last year, I met my mummy. From the first meeting, neither of us could have had any idea that we would become mother and son. In fact, it seemed for a while that a regular romantic relationship was on the cards but that didn’t happen. Even back then, I was still emotionally very fragile and would frequently become overwhelmed in groups of people. I wasn’t strong enough inside to start a romantic relationship. Instead, over the course of several months, she became my adoptive mother and I her receptive son. It’s an unconventional relationship to say the least and we get a mixture of responses from those we tell. We are very tactile and close; we cuddle and hug one another in bed, hold hands, hang out, snuggle together whilst watching movies and massage each other. To the uninitiated, we look like a regular couple.
I knew that at some point I would have to tell her about my AB side and I eventually did. A crucial point came when we were together in bed. Being a former nurse and now psychotherapist, she recognised the small child inside of me and saw his profound needs. As I watched her and listened to her patter, I dropped my guard and let out my little 2 year old self. What followed was wonderful; my mummy cooed over me, cuddled me, kissed me and lavished me with unconditional love and praise. We played peekaboo, counting games, tickles. When I locked eyes with her, I could see how genuine all of this attention was. I was able to relinquish my adult role and become the little baby I have played in my head so many times over the decades. Over the course of several hours I was treated to some real mothering. It was so beautiful and nurturing. I was also able to engage in baby-talk, to ask my mummy for what I wanted, to be showered in her gentle, nurturing love and to feel like the most important little person in the world. It was a staggering, breath-taking, gorgeous time.
The way in which she talks to my little side is so poetic and elegant and makes me feel so special and loved; I am the apple of her eye and come before anyone else in her life. Her love is so unwavering and genuine that we both want for me to become her legally adopted son. I believe adult adoption is possible in California so our aim is to visit there to make it official. She helped rescue my soul from the mirror and shape me into the person I am becoming. It is beyond that of simple role-play. She has fully embraced me as her own, nurtured me, guided me and re-parented me. She loves me unconditionally and is a solid, stable tower of support as I experiment with radically new ways of being. Whatever wild inner turbulence I am feeling, she can handle it; I can express extremes of emotion and she remains unwavering, steadfast and utterly devoted to me. Her levels of kindness and compassion are quite unlike anything I have yet experienced in other people. The constant, unqualified love she gives astounds me. At any time of the day or night, she is there for me, no matter what. Her endless love and enthusiasm for me is more healing than a thousand therapy sessions. Every touch, caress, cuddle and kind, nurturing word chips away at the old, self-limiting behaviours of mine. She is my best friend, my confidante, my loving mother, my anchor, my guide, navigator and sounding board as I experiment with new ways of being.
On Christmas Eve she came round to see me. Since my father died 9 years ago, my family Christmas disintegrated. My biological mother is a truly ghastly woman with whom I have now no dealings; traditional family Christmas time died for me a long time ago, when I was 26. Mummy arrived and we had a few drinks before going out. We had a cocktail along the way and wound up at an Indian restaurant. Afterwards, we went home to my house, drank more, watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show and danced until the wee small hours. There was a wonderful sense of being in a little bubble of fun with just us in it; as if we were the only two revellers left alive in town. I felt a truly amazing sense of togetherness, warmth and fun. It was beautiful. Mummy was familiar with the Rocky Horror etiquette and sang and danced at appropriate points. It struck me that this was far more of a “family” experience than anything I had attempted with my brother in the years since my father’s death. I revelled in every minute of dancing, drinking, eating, talking, smiling; every moment of being. I found someone to truly love and enjoy Christmas with. Close to bedtime, I felt very upset and she was there to comfort me. Altogether, I got a sense of a new family. This isn’t just about Christmas with someone new; this was a radically different experience. It was nourishing, beautiful, loving, caring, fun, rowdy, free and boisterous. It was everything Christmas should have been – the best in almost a decade.
Recently, I have revealed my sissy alter-ego and played dress-up with her. She has helped dress me, puts on my nappies, holds me, feeds me, winds me, plays with me, reads to me, makes up stories for me. She always has my best interests at heart and asks me for what I need and want. We continue to develop our relationship and as time goes on, I feel more and more confident and accepting of myself and my AB side. I feel I will soon be ready for a romantic relationship with someone else and emotionally, I am blossoming, becoming stronger and stronger every day. I used to be someone filled with dread about the future; now I embrace it. I can’t wait to see what more beautiful experiences lie in store for my mummy and me.