- Messages
- 59
- Age
- 29
- Role
- Diaper Lover
- Little
For my first-ever official post on this site, I'd like to do a bit of a deeper dive into what got me interested in diapers in the first place, my related trauma history, my/our plurality as a result of said trauma, and why I've made diapers a part of who I am as a human; as well as my disorders I've been struggling with for the majority of my life but have only been made aware of some of them recently...like, last month recently.
Here's the part where I should probably mention that I'll be using I/my/me/we/our interchangably. We're newly "diagnosed" with OSDD and am still discovering our plurality and how it affects us as a system. "Diagnosed" is in quotations due to the fact that our therapist, for some reason, refuses to officially diagnose us with OSDD even though he has acknowledged the fact that we are, in fact, plural. So I guess that makes it a 99% certain self diagosis where the remaining 1% would come from his official diagnosis. Anyways...
Trigger warning: topics discussed henceforth relate to suicide (lacking significant detail), gender dysphoria, struggles with self-acceptance, psych ward visits, and trauma in general.
To preface the story, my diagnoses are ADHD, anxiety, MDD, gender dysphoria (not a disorder but still worth mentioning), C-PTSD, BPD, and OSDD. The first few go way back, the dysphoria as of 2017, and the latter 3 as of last month.
I guess it all started back when I was 6 or 7; when I finally was fully potty trained. At first I was pretty proud of myself but then it felt like something went missing as soon as my parents threw out the last remaining diapers since I wouldn't be needing them anymore. (Joke's on them, I'm back in diapers!! lol) Ever since, over the years I found myself stealing diapers from relatives when they would come spend a weekend at the house for the holidays or special family gatherings. A handful of times, my mom had found my stash (she loved invading my and my siblings privacy but she would mainly target me with her neglect and abuse) and each time she would ask me about them I would plead ignorance or just not answer any of her questions. It wasn't until 2018 when she had found my stash again (this time with ABDL diapers and goodnites instead of pampers that clearly couldn't fit me) that I finally stuck up for myself for the first time and told her "No mom, you don't get an answer to any of your questions this time. You're not allowed to have answers. You invaded my privacy...again...now get out of my room before I put another hole through my wall!" And for the first time in my life, she turned and left the room, clearly taken by surprise, without a word. I was trembling...
Countless times, I would split on her (BPD) and say the absolute nastiest things a kid could ever say to their parent. And the messed up part about it is after I had calmed down, I wouldn't remember much of the interaction. I would instead have to learn about how I had acted after the fact when the punishments started flying in my direction. I had no idea what was happening with me and didn't know what help to ask for from my mom, leaving me feeling completely isolated and alone...and I lived in the same damn house as my other two siblings (I'm the youngest of a triplet) and neither one of them seemed to be experiencing the level of emotional pain I was suffering as a result of how my mom neglected and abused me emotionally and sometimes even physically. This pain was and is a result of MANY things my mom has said and done to me over the years has led to multiple suicide attempts, psych ward visits for 10 days each, and copious ammounts of weed to say the least.
All of this confusion had led me to really look inward at myself and try to figure myself out on my own. My mom got me a therapist when I was 17 but it wasn't a good fit and I wasn't getting anywhere; especially when she and my step mom would attend some of my sessions which usually ended up with me storming out of the room and leaving to go to someplace other than home. 8 years later and after a ton of therapy and introspection, I finally decided to come out as trans and it went surprisingly well. After that, I moved out of the house (well...actually kicked out but that's a separate story)
Fast forward to now, I'm turning 29 tomorrow, and have been wearing diapers whenever and wherever I can for 12 years. I didn't realize until recently that my initial draw to diapers was not out of necessity at first but moreso out of the smooth crotch (don't know how else to say it), the feel of them against my skin, how the scented ones smell (scent is a huge little space trigger for me), and quite the reminder of simpler more innocent times in my life, before all the trauma started...or at least when I can remember it starting.
I didn't realize until last month, when I was officially diagnosed with C-PTSD and unofficially diganosed with BPD and OSDD, that diapers have actually been my way of coping with the symptoms of such disorders and the processing of the trauma associated with each. My therapist and I actually did an evaluation called the MID (Multidimensional Inventory of Dissociation) that tests for everything under the sun aside from schizoaffective disorders and it pinged those three disorders but he's only officially diagnosed me with one for some reason. Anyways, once I began to do some extensive research into all of them, and especially OSDD since I had never heard of it before, my alters started creeping out of the woodwork. So far there are 6 of us and 2 of us are littles (age 4 and 9). We didn't really put two and two together until now but we have a sneaking suspicion that their existence within our system might actually have been the "infancy" of our interest in diapers.
And ever since we were made aware of these disorders, it was like our entire life's experience up to now had been flipped on its head and we can finally see it for what it really is and was. So much so that we actually took the time to hyperfocus on writing a letter to our mom about all of this that later turned out to be a 37 page thesis on what these disorders are, how we were diagnosed both officially and unofficially, their diagnostic criteria, specific behaviors and symptoms of each that we experience and exhibit, specific traumatic events we can recall that likely led to these disorders manifesting, as well as support strategies. Once the essay was finished, chapters and citations and all, we emailed it to my mom.
About a week later, we get a call from her asking to grab dinner and discuss it. We meet up, and as we/I walk into the restaurant I notice she had printed the thing out in its entirety and even had things highlighted and notes in the margins. I was even impressed with just how much paper was sitting there! Anyways, we discuss some minor details and some specifics on the disorders as a whole. Then once we were finished with dinner, we headed out to her car and she asked us to hop in so we could talk in private.
What happened next blew our friggin mind. After 28 years of emotional abuse and neglect and a few instances of physical abuse, we finally got an honest and genuine apology out of her. It was quite an emotional moment to say the least. We talked for the next hour and a half about the nitty gritty details and specific traumatic events we had pointed out in that 8 page section.
Now, it feels like she's an entirely different mother. Because we think what really got to her was the fact that she pointed out that the reason things went the way they did for all those years was because she didn't know what was happening with me either or how to help us. But after I had explained to her that we didn't know what help to ask for because we were just as confused, if not moreso, and that we finally have answers.
After all of that and some more introspection about wether or not we would like to persue fusion of our alters into a single identity, we have made the decision to forego fusion and allow us to coexist, no matter how turbulent it may be to get used to at first. Because wether we like it or not, each of us fragmented for a reason and we've always been there, we just weren't aware that it wasn't "normal" until last month.
So, all of that being said, we are where we are because of one another. And we wouldn't want to get rid of that just for the sake of having the "normal" title.
Anyway, that's my/our story. What's yours?
~Lynn <3
Here's the part where I should probably mention that I'll be using I/my/me/we/our interchangably. We're newly "diagnosed" with OSDD and am still discovering our plurality and how it affects us as a system. "Diagnosed" is in quotations due to the fact that our therapist, for some reason, refuses to officially diagnose us with OSDD even though he has acknowledged the fact that we are, in fact, plural. So I guess that makes it a 99% certain self diagosis where the remaining 1% would come from his official diagnosis. Anyways...
Trigger warning: topics discussed henceforth relate to suicide (lacking significant detail), gender dysphoria, struggles with self-acceptance, psych ward visits, and trauma in general.
To preface the story, my diagnoses are ADHD, anxiety, MDD, gender dysphoria (not a disorder but still worth mentioning), C-PTSD, BPD, and OSDD. The first few go way back, the dysphoria as of 2017, and the latter 3 as of last month.
I guess it all started back when I was 6 or 7; when I finally was fully potty trained. At first I was pretty proud of myself but then it felt like something went missing as soon as my parents threw out the last remaining diapers since I wouldn't be needing them anymore. (Joke's on them, I'm back in diapers!! lol) Ever since, over the years I found myself stealing diapers from relatives when they would come spend a weekend at the house for the holidays or special family gatherings. A handful of times, my mom had found my stash (she loved invading my and my siblings privacy but she would mainly target me with her neglect and abuse) and each time she would ask me about them I would plead ignorance or just not answer any of her questions. It wasn't until 2018 when she had found my stash again (this time with ABDL diapers and goodnites instead of pampers that clearly couldn't fit me) that I finally stuck up for myself for the first time and told her "No mom, you don't get an answer to any of your questions this time. You're not allowed to have answers. You invaded my privacy...again...now get out of my room before I put another hole through my wall!" And for the first time in my life, she turned and left the room, clearly taken by surprise, without a word. I was trembling...
Countless times, I would split on her (BPD) and say the absolute nastiest things a kid could ever say to their parent. And the messed up part about it is after I had calmed down, I wouldn't remember much of the interaction. I would instead have to learn about how I had acted after the fact when the punishments started flying in my direction. I had no idea what was happening with me and didn't know what help to ask for from my mom, leaving me feeling completely isolated and alone...and I lived in the same damn house as my other two siblings (I'm the youngest of a triplet) and neither one of them seemed to be experiencing the level of emotional pain I was suffering as a result of how my mom neglected and abused me emotionally and sometimes even physically. This pain was and is a result of MANY things my mom has said and done to me over the years has led to multiple suicide attempts, psych ward visits for 10 days each, and copious ammounts of weed to say the least.
All of this confusion had led me to really look inward at myself and try to figure myself out on my own. My mom got me a therapist when I was 17 but it wasn't a good fit and I wasn't getting anywhere; especially when she and my step mom would attend some of my sessions which usually ended up with me storming out of the room and leaving to go to someplace other than home. 8 years later and after a ton of therapy and introspection, I finally decided to come out as trans and it went surprisingly well. After that, I moved out of the house (well...actually kicked out but that's a separate story)
Fast forward to now, I'm turning 29 tomorrow, and have been wearing diapers whenever and wherever I can for 12 years. I didn't realize until recently that my initial draw to diapers was not out of necessity at first but moreso out of the smooth crotch (don't know how else to say it), the feel of them against my skin, how the scented ones smell (scent is a huge little space trigger for me), and quite the reminder of simpler more innocent times in my life, before all the trauma started...or at least when I can remember it starting.
I didn't realize until last month, when I was officially diagnosed with C-PTSD and unofficially diganosed with BPD and OSDD, that diapers have actually been my way of coping with the symptoms of such disorders and the processing of the trauma associated with each. My therapist and I actually did an evaluation called the MID (Multidimensional Inventory of Dissociation) that tests for everything under the sun aside from schizoaffective disorders and it pinged those three disorders but he's only officially diagnosed me with one for some reason. Anyways, once I began to do some extensive research into all of them, and especially OSDD since I had never heard of it before, my alters started creeping out of the woodwork. So far there are 6 of us and 2 of us are littles (age 4 and 9). We didn't really put two and two together until now but we have a sneaking suspicion that their existence within our system might actually have been the "infancy" of our interest in diapers.
And ever since we were made aware of these disorders, it was like our entire life's experience up to now had been flipped on its head and we can finally see it for what it really is and was. So much so that we actually took the time to hyperfocus on writing a letter to our mom about all of this that later turned out to be a 37 page thesis on what these disorders are, how we were diagnosed both officially and unofficially, their diagnostic criteria, specific behaviors and symptoms of each that we experience and exhibit, specific traumatic events we can recall that likely led to these disorders manifesting, as well as support strategies. Once the essay was finished, chapters and citations and all, we emailed it to my mom.
About a week later, we get a call from her asking to grab dinner and discuss it. We meet up, and as we/I walk into the restaurant I notice she had printed the thing out in its entirety and even had things highlighted and notes in the margins. I was even impressed with just how much paper was sitting there! Anyways, we discuss some minor details and some specifics on the disorders as a whole. Then once we were finished with dinner, we headed out to her car and she asked us to hop in so we could talk in private.
What happened next blew our friggin mind. After 28 years of emotional abuse and neglect and a few instances of physical abuse, we finally got an honest and genuine apology out of her. It was quite an emotional moment to say the least. We talked for the next hour and a half about the nitty gritty details and specific traumatic events we had pointed out in that 8 page section.
Now, it feels like she's an entirely different mother. Because we think what really got to her was the fact that she pointed out that the reason things went the way they did for all those years was because she didn't know what was happening with me either or how to help us. But after I had explained to her that we didn't know what help to ask for because we were just as confused, if not moreso, and that we finally have answers.
After all of that and some more introspection about wether or not we would like to persue fusion of our alters into a single identity, we have made the decision to forego fusion and allow us to coexist, no matter how turbulent it may be to get used to at first. Because wether we like it or not, each of us fragmented for a reason and we've always been there, we just weren't aware that it wasn't "normal" until last month.
So, all of that being said, we are where we are because of one another. And we wouldn't want to get rid of that just for the sake of having the "normal" title.
Anyway, that's my/our story. What's yours?
~Lynn <3
