In my ongoing battle over depression and anxiety, i have been reaching out more to family and phychologists for help. I had a surgery recently, and my mother was visiting to help my wife with our baby. While in the hospital, i had an order of custom cloth diapers arrive.
When i was home, my mother and i agreed that they were rediculously bulky under my clothes, and she actually told me that she would take them back to Ohio and alter them for me, as long as i didnt tell my dad because it would wierd him out!
I found this to be a profound way of my mother showing full acceptance of my lifelong attachment to diapers. We have spoken much of my struggles, but this was a level of support I did not expect.
On a separate note, my middle sister, the last one in my family to find out about my diaper love (she learned about a year ago, but i did not know she knew) turned out to be the most supportive. In a moment of crisis, during a panic attack, i called her for help. I dont like to burden my mother, because these things weigh so heavily on her. My sister wrote such kind and supportive things, and had a surprise for me at the end: she found a box of vintage pampers at a garage sale and bought them for me as a momento!
The point of all this is to say, i have been torturing myself for thirty years, assuming people would hate me for being me. And look what actually happens. So my question is this: are our worries really just nonsence? Why are we so prone to assume the opposite of what actually is? Why are we so crazy? And why do we assume people will hate us, dispite evidence against? I just cant figure myself out.