myregressionblog - Tumblr blog

[myregressionblog]

So here's the deal.

I have a condition, don't wanna say which. It's rare and could give hints about who I am, but, it took out just the right things to make me feel like I'm regressing and I don't really want to.

First, I'm married. Very happily. He's always been caring and loving and nurturing. He's understanding and always willing to help. He makes a lot of money, and, I'm making six figures, an entrepreneur, IQ 141, to the point that it was diagnosed as a disorder as a teen... But I can't live out my potential. I was born with a disease in my genes that was always going to cripple me. In fact, I can't do much at all. My bones are very fragile. I still managed to run my business from home just fine, and my husband never minded supporting me financially (and emotionally... I'm almost afraid of people because I've been through so many traumas that people wouldn't believe all of these somewhat unconnected disasters could happen to one person, but here I am. He's my rock.) He's held me after PTSD nightmares and always rushes to my side when I wake up screaming in pain because I fell asleep with a limb in the wrong position.

He's been nailing it helping me... so much that I was already feeling sort of useless. He didn't make a lot when we married, about the US average. But his boss hated him, so I came up with the plan to remove my husband as the factor, if his boss's resentment of him was the thing holding him back. I spoke with his boss, and, I had (past tense) this natural air of leadership and authority, before all of this. Professors, bosses, buyers, others in my trade, impressing them all didn't even require effort from me. By the end, he was a bobble head to my song, "Oh, you're clearly the brains here", "You seem like a very capable young woman", all of that. My essays are still being passed out at my Alma Mater as examples, with the caveat of "Not everyone can be Shakespeare". In fact, I was in school to be a doctor before my illness took my spine and my legs. I'm saying this just to say, I'm used to being independent, powerful, capable, chosen as leader whether I wanted it or not, told my new psych theories are cutting edge and should be submitted for peer review.

But, my illness took that all away. I had to drop out of college with Hopkins acceptance grades and accolades. I was shadowing my physician (Figured I already knew him, may as well ask!) and the future was bright, but, my health just fell apart. If it weren't for my husband supporting me, I'd still be with my abusive parents or homeless, depending on how bad it got. But, I was starting to feel, well, like I did when I was a little girl, being cared for by my wealthy grandmother. I was not just cared for, but wearing $1000.00, a day's wages for my husband, in clothes, with a top of the line laptop, always-colored-and-cut hair, expensive collector items of things in which I hold interest (If I want band merch, it's signed. If we see a show, we have backstage passes — I got a fashion compliment from Alice hecking Cooper! — if we get a game, it's the super duper pre-order collector's edition. I told him about a Dragonite plushie my grandmother bought me when I was a kid that was lost or stolen. He replaced it. It was over a thousand dollars. My cat died. He got me a necklace with an engraving of him on it, a matching ring, and a 1500 dollar life size (He was a Russian Maine Coon.) plushie of him.

I love my husband. I really do. I thought I loved my exes but this feeling, I never felt that. I think I mistook interest with love. It's just that I spent my life achieving, in jobs, college, even in the business I'm running since I had to drop out, a little venture with genetics. I produce some of the best results of my field... But, it's my play money. It's six figures! What's worse, I haven't been able to do it for awhile because the local government is corrupt and can't take responsibility for anything (long story), so, he's been giving me 150 a month. Yeah. An allowance. Add to that, we have a cruddy bath tub, I can't grab the sides or they'll cut me, and I have trouble getting in. He started helping me in the tub, then he started helping me with some of the parts of bathing that are harder on me, like shaving my legs (rekd spine, remember?) and, he'd help with other things, just because he has this bizarre uselessness complex and he wants to be incredibly helpful, but, he's over-achieving at it so much, he's making me, someone predicted to do great things, make the textbooks, all that jazz, feel like a child. Oh, but it gets worse.

All the way back in college, I noticed I was seeing some yellow in my panties. Then, I began noticing my "warning time" to pee getting less and less, down to about two minutes. Then, I began wetting the bed. So, yeah, I'm in diapers. That was the big one. Bedwetting was really where it started... I felt like I was 3. He never made me feel bad about it, and always understood, it was a health problem, not uncommon with my ailment. When I began just having to wear diapers 24/7, he said he didn't mind changing me. I didn't even think about it. I just thought, "Well, my shoulders are going, I have the butt for which Kim K paid good money, but I was born with it. Reaching behind it isn't easy." and, when he was putting the baby oil on me, I realized how infantile it all felt, combined with already feeling like a spoiled little rich girl before.

I want my pacifier now. I only began using it half as a joke, half because I don't sleep naturally. I have Entrepreneur Insomnia. Elon Musk and Neal DeGrasse Tyson have it as well. They both sleep about 4 hours, but I don't sleep at all. My brain doesn't shut up. I thought something fidgety, but not with my hands, a more slight and instinctual movement, and, I'm into evolutionary biology and psychology, so, I know that it's in the human instinct to be calmed when suckling on something like that. I was using basic psychology to just try and get the sleep that, if left to my own devices, I will only get for four hours A WEEK. I'm on a lot of sedatives too, so, yeah, having to be put down to sleep is just another thing.

Then, I severed with the gamete donors (If you knew what they've done, everything in its totality, you'd be amazed I haven't killed them; it's not for lack of trying, at least as a teen.) and decided "It's my time now. I get to define myself." All of my friends turned on me, and all I ever did was support them — One, I basically gifted a franchise of my business. He was too much of a wuss for the responsibility. Guess he doesn't wanna make six figures too. The rest, I've either just been there when they needed someone, or even talked them down from suicide. I did nothing to any of them. It's just like they all turned at once. I don't want any more friends. I'm scared even of my in-laws. All I know of family is abuse of every classification. I just assume people will hate me now. They always have. Bullied to hell and back in school, beaten, molested, psychologically ruined, and abandoned by my own parents, gun to my head by my older sibling, it's been hell and I just want to hide.

Of course, Mr. Helpful is on it with that. I asked him to gatekeep all contact with me, just because, I'm so tired of people. Who needs enemies with the kinds of "friends" and "family" I've had? I'm not great at the whole social skills thing. I met my husband on a forum, but, to be fair, I lived in the kind of place where men with an IQ over 90 were rare creatures, and usually just as damaged as I was, causing problems. To make things worse, I went on Keto. I was 200lbs, 5'2" (I used to be 5'5". My spine is just so degraded I've already lost 3 inches.), and tired of being overweight, so I decided I was going to do something about it. Even the easiest exercise could hurt me. Diet is the only control I have. I also just started going 5 days a week without food, only eating on weekends. The idea is, rev up my metabolism with ketosis, then, go on a fasting cycle to minimize intake while my metabolism was on crystal meth. It's worked. I'm thin now, and I've found a good lifestyle when it comes to eating to avoid that, but, a side effect of the keto diet is, well, leakage... So I don't even have 100% bowel control. He takes care of that too, while I'm cringing in embarrassment.

I've never been into the world of age play or anything... I just feel more and more like I'm regressing in age, or mindset, or something, and he's taking care of my every little need and, ugh. I guess I feel like I missed adulthood. I can't do anything without help. I have to hold his hand tightly when we go anywhere, because, my cane is in one hand, and in the other, he's helping me walk. My knees fall backwards. My fingers bend backwards (distal joint) without my control too, so I have to hand things to him and ask him to open it. (Before, I just kept a pocket knife on my car keys, lol. Oh... I don't drive anymore either. I haven't had a license in years. There are reasons I gave it up, but, I don't want to talk about it. Surprise! More trauma!)

I just want the ambitious future I thought I'd have. This disease has taken everything but my life, even my adulthood... Right now, I'm not accomplishing anything, competing at anything, making money, or learning a skill, and the kind of person I am, that drives me nuts. And no, it isn't my husband's fault. I'd be lost without him. It's this disease. I've said enough that, if you know about obscure genetic diseases (1/10,000) that you can probably guess. It was common among circus contortionists... And, yeah, that's all fun and games — I used to love grossing people out by turning my wrist 360 degrees laterally — until your bones start coming out when you didn't do it on purpose. God, it hurts. I had to go to the hospital because I turned my head to the side too long. I just want the life I thought I'd have... I have been competing since basically the time I was toilet trained, in ballet, in K4 at 3, etc. I was the rich kid groomed for success and rewarded for competition, but that was just my grandma. My parents just treated me like a freak. A lot of people did.

Psychologically, I think I know why I'm regressing so easily, and, yeah, it comes from having a messed up childhood, without saying too much. A dash of Michael Jackson Syndrome (never had a real childhood due to being expected to perform like an adult from a very young age), and a dash of early childhood trauma involving being treated like a baby when I wasn't one by my parents, just because they thought how upset I'd get was funny. I know I said I didn't want to explain, but if I'm talking about the rest here, I might as well say that. I don't have friends or family. This is where I bear my soul.

I'm sure a lot of people who have this as a fetish will envy me. I'd trade bodies with you in a second, buddy, just let me keep my mind and my partner.