The shame that I harbor...
Last Friday I had a really good session with my T. I opened up and addressed some issues that I had previously only skimmed over. I was really too embarrassed and ashamed to talk about them. But after talking about them I felt incredibly good. However, today I had an interesting incident that I need to talk about and it is closely related to my last session. This all involves my feelings of shame.
What I finally opened up about was my desire to cross-dress. Let me clear this up a little bit: When I was between 5-7 my sister had used me as her surrogate sex partner. Unlike many here I truly enjoyed my encounters. Sometime before my tenth birthday she had finally threw me to the side and rejected any of my advances. Those experiences gave me a taste of what an orgasm was and it left me with a strong desire for more. The only way I could possibly recreate the ecstasy was to snoop through her underwear drawer and absorb her essence. It eventually led to me trying on her underwear on a regular basis. It was probably a daily occurrence in my puberty years and eventually waned in my late teen years. I loved doing it. I truly did, but it was my deep, dark secret that I would never tell.
One time when I was around 10 I decided to take a piece of her underwear into my room so that I could enjoy it later that night. Unfortunately my mother found it. I remember sitting in the living room with my father. My mother came around the corner with it draped around her index finger and peered at me and asked, "What is this?", in a condescending way. Nothing more was said but the non-verbal communication was loud and clear. Whether she intended it or not, I felt like she was telling me that I was a horrible and despicable person for doing it. My father said nothing to me, like usual.
The embarrassment was horrible! I welled up with shame and all I wanted to do was run away. I vowed that I would never let myself go through that again. I was quite successful at that, however, that meant that I would shun all sexual relationships and development. Certainly there were other outside factors involved in my withdrawal but this was unfortunate nonetheless.
So today I was sitting with my father inside his truck at a UPS Store while waiting for a friend to arrive. The woman inside the store was absolutely beautiful and all I wanted to do was to be close to her. Unfortunately my father's presence made me feel so guilty for feeling this. He was like a cancer and all I wanted to do was punch him (figuratively, of course) and ask him why he was doing this to me. He did and said nothing but in that instant I hated him because I could fully see how the intense shame has locked me in place and prevented me from living. Ugg…It's horrible. (Please understand that I do love my dad despite much of what I say.)
I hope this didn't become too drawn out but I needed to get this off my chest.
Thanks for listening,
Mike
What I finally opened up about was my desire to cross-dress. Let me clear this up a little bit: When I was between 5-7 my sister had used me as her surrogate sex partner. Unlike many here I truly enjoyed my encounters. Sometime before my tenth birthday she had finally threw me to the side and rejected any of my advances. Those experiences gave me a taste of what an orgasm was and it left me with a strong desire for more. The only way I could possibly recreate the ecstasy was to snoop through her underwear drawer and absorb her essence. It eventually led to me trying on her underwear on a regular basis. It was probably a daily occurrence in my puberty years and eventually waned in my late teen years. I loved doing it. I truly did, but it was my deep, dark secret that I would never tell.
One time when I was around 10 I decided to take a piece of her underwear into my room so that I could enjoy it later that night. Unfortunately my mother found it. I remember sitting in the living room with my father. My mother came around the corner with it draped around her index finger and peered at me and asked, "What is this?", in a condescending way. Nothing more was said but the non-verbal communication was loud and clear. Whether she intended it or not, I felt like she was telling me that I was a horrible and despicable person for doing it. My father said nothing to me, like usual.
The embarrassment was horrible! I welled up with shame and all I wanted to do was run away. I vowed that I would never let myself go through that again. I was quite successful at that, however, that meant that I would shun all sexual relationships and development. Certainly there were other outside factors involved in my withdrawal but this was unfortunate nonetheless.
So today I was sitting with my father inside his truck at a UPS Store while waiting for a friend to arrive. The woman inside the store was absolutely beautiful and all I wanted to do was to be close to her. Unfortunately my father's presence made me feel so guilty for feeling this. He was like a cancer and all I wanted to do was punch him (figuratively, of course) and ask him why he was doing this to me. He did and said nothing but in that instant I hated him because I could fully see how the intense shame has locked me in place and prevented me from living. Ugg…It's horrible. (Please understand that I do love my dad despite much of what I say.)
I hope this didn't become too drawn out but I needed to get this off my chest.
Thanks for listening,
Mike
