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- Incontinent
I debated whether to post this here or in Mature Topics, but ultimately the cognitive dissonance created by the notion of discussing Little Space in a Mature Topics forum made up my mind for me.
I need to start by saying that my primary reason for being on ADISC is incontinence; I joined four years ago after being diagnosed. That, however, doesn't mean I was unfamiliar with the land of ABDL; as I'd had on and off again potty problems all of my life, mostly at night but occasionally during the day, the idea of age play and diapers both as punishment and as comfort device had also long been parts of my background. (My four-year-old sister was punished with diapers when I was eight; that is the earliest association I can recall. I hid my occasional bedwetting from my mom for a long time because of it.) Anyway: I know all of these worlds, though I have not made a habit of indulging my own Little side.
I have one; I've always known that. She's about four or five and has a damaged bladder so is not toilet trained. She likes baby things, probably because of the diapers she still has to wear, and she's indulged in these desires because...why not? But the thing is that I don't usually need her to come out. I have echoes and accoutrements of hers: one of her stuffed bears (Bearaboo) on my bed, her paci in my mouth when I sleep, footie sleepers in winter time, etc. And that's always enough.
But lately I have been in an ongoing depression that, try as I might, I can't seem to shake. It started with Trump, and I seemed finally to break free of it in early February, but the freedom didn't last. Since April or so, I've been lethargic, uninspired, and empty. I lack energy and desire to do much of anything. If I didn't have a few standing items on my calendar, I probably would lie on my couch 24/7 for weeks at a time. And I'm too down to even care.
I do get out--those items include play subscriptions, for example--but then I come home and I'm lost again. It seems absurd: what do I have to be depressed about? My life, in general, is better than most. Yet I can't reason this away. And I know, I know: you can't reason depression away. I should probably call my shrink to get my meds re-evaluated.
But this week, because I simple can't exist in grown-up space without crying about nothing at all, I decided to let Little Kerry out. I can't dress up (I don't own anything anyway) and I don't have a playpen or anything (though I wish I did) but these big items would be too noticeable when my daughter and her boyfriend come home later on. So what I have done is get Snowy, my overlarge stuffed polar bear, and a "Princess in Training" paci, and cuddle up against my "daddy" (my husband in his best daddy mode) to watch TV. For a little while, anyway, it seemed to help. Little Kerry nursed on her paci and giggled at the movie and hugged her bear and her daddy and bad thoughts left for awhile. And then the movie ended and they all came back in.
I have my paci and Snowy right here as I write this, but I'm writing, so I'm not in my real Little Space. Little Kerry isn't old enough to do that. I'm starting to wonder if the only way to beat this depression is to let her out for a long time and just forget about me for awhile. Maybe that would actually help...
I need to start by saying that my primary reason for being on ADISC is incontinence; I joined four years ago after being diagnosed. That, however, doesn't mean I was unfamiliar with the land of ABDL; as I'd had on and off again potty problems all of my life, mostly at night but occasionally during the day, the idea of age play and diapers both as punishment and as comfort device had also long been parts of my background. (My four-year-old sister was punished with diapers when I was eight; that is the earliest association I can recall. I hid my occasional bedwetting from my mom for a long time because of it.) Anyway: I know all of these worlds, though I have not made a habit of indulging my own Little side.
I have one; I've always known that. She's about four or five and has a damaged bladder so is not toilet trained. She likes baby things, probably because of the diapers she still has to wear, and she's indulged in these desires because...why not? But the thing is that I don't usually need her to come out. I have echoes and accoutrements of hers: one of her stuffed bears (Bearaboo) on my bed, her paci in my mouth when I sleep, footie sleepers in winter time, etc. And that's always enough.
But lately I have been in an ongoing depression that, try as I might, I can't seem to shake. It started with Trump, and I seemed finally to break free of it in early February, but the freedom didn't last. Since April or so, I've been lethargic, uninspired, and empty. I lack energy and desire to do much of anything. If I didn't have a few standing items on my calendar, I probably would lie on my couch 24/7 for weeks at a time. And I'm too down to even care.
I do get out--those items include play subscriptions, for example--but then I come home and I'm lost again. It seems absurd: what do I have to be depressed about? My life, in general, is better than most. Yet I can't reason this away. And I know, I know: you can't reason depression away. I should probably call my shrink to get my meds re-evaluated.
But this week, because I simple can't exist in grown-up space without crying about nothing at all, I decided to let Little Kerry out. I can't dress up (I don't own anything anyway) and I don't have a playpen or anything (though I wish I did) but these big items would be too noticeable when my daughter and her boyfriend come home later on. So what I have done is get Snowy, my overlarge stuffed polar bear, and a "Princess in Training" paci, and cuddle up against my "daddy" (my husband in his best daddy mode) to watch TV. For a little while, anyway, it seemed to help. Little Kerry nursed on her paci and giggled at the movie and hugged her bear and her daddy and bad thoughts left for awhile. And then the movie ended and they all came back in.
I have my paci and Snowy right here as I write this, but I'm writing, so I'm not in my real Little Space. Little Kerry isn't old enough to do that. I'm starting to wonder if the only way to beat this depression is to let her out for a long time and just forget about me for awhile. Maybe that would actually help...