Hi all,
Maria,
Interesting post. You and I seem to have grown up in similar situations, in the sense that, from the age of about 8 or 9 (and aside for the presence of the odd--"odd" being the operative word, here--live-in housekeeper), I had no strong female influence in my life. I've also wondered if my CD'ing could've developed as a response to that lack. I nixed that idea, though; I first started to wear my mom's clothes, on a more or less regular basis, from the age of about 5 and until she left the household a few years later.
A great source of shame, for me (aside from even just the
desire to wear women's clothes), was what I had to resort to in order to get ahold of women's clothing. Now, I've always considered myself an honest and morally upright person, even as a youngster. But, on several occasions, in my late childhood and early teens, I'd slip out my bedroom window late at night and go clothesline raiding.
Yes, some women in the neighbourhood lost some articles of clothing to my desires. This is the first time I've ever told this to anyone other than my ex-GF's. Do you know, Maria, how long it took me to get over the shame and the guilt I felt over my behaviour? Years. Although I tried, I could find no way to justify my behaviour to myself. These thefts, though few, caused me no end of distress.
I realized, as an adult, that feelings of guilt and shame regarding both my behaviour and my desires were killing me, slowly eating away at my soul, like a cancer. I knew that, if I didn't somehow let go of these feelings, they'd do me in. Of that, I was 1000% sure. And they very nearly did. Thankfully (and, to this day, I'm never really sure who or what to thank), I managed to journey through my own "vale of tears" and come out the other side, into the sunshine. Really, I don't think my experience in this regard is all that different from most of my sisters' here, on the forum or elsewhere. I do believe that, although the passage of time helps, letting go of shame (and of guilt and fear) is an
active process, one that requires our full attention and participation. Letting things fester can serve no purpose. And neither can numbing our pain through whatever means we choose. Shame is not a scar on our soul, it's an open wound; mere bandages or dressings won't do. Oddly enough (or maybe not), I found that, once I started excluding shame from my inner life, my fears--fear of rejection, fear of my desires, fear of intimacy, fear of myself, fear of life itself--left the building as well. Anyway, again, I went off on a wild tangent, here. Sorry.
You know, Maria, I think I started CD'ing for pretty much the same reasons you did (and probably for the same reasons others here did, as well): the garments, and the very fabrics themselves, had a sensual mystique and held a very tactile attraction for me. When I was very young, my mother used to lay out her clothes on the bed while she got ready for work and oh! how I used to love playing with those clothes, touching them, smelling them, gently caressing my face with them. It wasn't even sexual at the time (I was far too young). No, it was--and, to a large extent, still
is--a sensual thrill for me. Even today, there aren't that many occasions where you'll find me caressing my own body but I do when I'm wearing something soft and silky (and, no, I'm not talking just about sexual activity, here, although it
can include that, too). Like everyone else here, my brain may be my most important organ (after all, it's where my sense of gender lives) but it's my skin that's the most extensive one, the one most in actual contact with the world. As such, it's a gateway to pleasure. However much I "rationalize" or "genitalize" my own sexual desires, I know that physical pleasure, for me, starts with touch. And, although my relationships--the fulfilling of my emotional needs, of my desire to love and to be loved--will always be with persons and not with inanimate objects such as clothing, my skin and my fingertips find their pleasure indiscriminately. After all, there is such a thing as "satin/y smooth" skin or "silk/y soft" hair, no?
Anyway, very interesting post, Maria. Thanks for sharing.
Celes,
How right you are; I do believe that we have more power than we give ourselves credit for in either accepting or rejecting who we are. It's just a hard hill to climb, is all. When you've spent much of your life being rejected (or
thinking you're being rejected--and this is the key, to me), it's very difficult to work against internalizing that sense of rejection. But work against it we must. For our own sanity and peace of mind. Though our self-esteem can (and often does) waver, our worth as individuals, as persons, is never dependent on who or what other people think we are. Hell! it doesn't even depend on who or what
we think we are. For myself, I try to take a more, shall we say, "cosmic" perspective: each and every one of us is a particular and very unique way in which the universe we live in manifests itself. Sometimes, it's mountains, sometimes, trees. Sometimes, it's suns and stars, sometimes, fish and raindrops. Sometimes, it's human beings. Us. And, regardless of our toils and troubles, we're worthy to be, to exist.
Love,
CJ
