If you were abused as a child do you feel that may be at least part of why you're abdl? Personally I believe it definitely is in my case. My parents were physically and emotionally abusive towards me especially my mother. I theorize that my attraction to diapers and the abdl lifestyle is at least in part because of my poor relationship with my mother because I needed a close emotional bond with her that I never had. I know this is a sensitive topic and I won't blame anyone who chooses not to reply. If however you are willing to share your story I hope you will. Child abuse is something that I feel very strongly about. I know it can be difficult to talk about but I feel we should
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childhood abuse and being abdl TOUCHY SUBJECT ALERT
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toddlermitch
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Wed Feb 04, 2015 12:06 am
- Location: United States
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toddlermitch
- Posts: 35
- Joined: Wed Feb 04, 2015 12:06 am
- Location: United States
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Little Stinky Britches
- Posts: 585
- Joined: Sat Jan 26, 2008 1:08 pm
- Location: In Diapers
Hummm.... I don't know why this would be considered a "touchy subject", I have talked about this a lot on other web sites over the years, as well as more "counseling" sessions then I care to remember. The fact is, YES, we are all fucked up, most of us anyway, AB and non-AB alike, straight or gay, it doesn't matter, the world is seriously FUCKED UP.
Read Camus, Sartre, Shakespeare, and Beckett. They all wrote plays and novels about how fucked up we are as a race of creatures and how fucked up the world is as a place to live.
What if you were Hamlet? Your uncle murders your father, and then takes your loving mother into his bedchamber? The guy who killed your dad, is now fucking your mother, and taking all of your dad's money... Are you supposed to be OK with this? Are you supposed to "get over it"? That's what Shakespeare is trying to tell us: the world is fucked-up! Everyone expects Hamlet to be "normal", to "get on" with his life. But how are you supposed to be "normal" when the guy who poisoned your father, is fucking your mother? Sorry, but Hamlet is the only sane person in the play, the only one who is truly "normal". That's what Shakespeare is trying to say.
Personal experience?
I was 6 years-old when a man lured me to a barn on my grandfather's dairy farm for the purpose of murdering me with a rope tied in a hangman's nose. He almost succeeded in hanging me, (murdering me) but he was caught before he could shove me off the chair with the rope tied around my neck. He later told police that he had always wanted to see what it felt like to kill a little boy by hanging him with a hangman's noose. Later in court he was freed, because doctors "determined" that he was "mentally retarded" with an IQ below 50 points. Yeah, he got away with it. He got away with trying to murder a 6 year-old. How fucked up is that?
Before that, I had a babysitter who burned me with cigarettes to "teach me to stop crying for my mommy" when she dropped me off at the woman's daycare. Years later, my mom once told me, "I always wondered why you cried and fought me so much when I tried to drop you off at daycare." (Hint: if you were a more loving, attentive mom, you would have figured out that she was burning me with cigarettes and that's why I flipped out when you were dropping me off into her tender care.) And yes, the daycare woman who burned me with cigarettes, got away with that too. How fucked up is that? No, I will never be "normal."
And before that, I was born to a woman who didn't really love me, and tried to potty train me when I started walking at the age of 13 months. (My grandmother told me that, and my mother confirmed it.) So, like any other 13 month-old I kept pooping my pants, and this made my mother angry. I was slapped and scolded for doing what comes naturally to a 13 month-old" pooping my pants. At the age of 2 years, my mom tried to potty train again: same result: more pooping of the pants/diapers/training pants. So my mother slapped me again, scolded me, and put me back in diapers and KEPT ME IN DIAPERS UNTIL THE AGE OF FIVE.
That's right, I was five years old when I stopped going in my pants/diapers. I can remember her taking me to a daycare, where they put me in the 2 year-old room, even though I was 5, because I was still in diapers and rubber pants, and going to the bathroom in them like a baby. To this day, my mom defends her actions and said that I left her no choice. She always said when diapering me, "If you want to act like a baby, I'll treat you like a baby." And she did treat me like a baby, in the meanest, most hateful way possible.
Do I have "issues"? You bet I do! I have more issues then Glen Beck!
Does this have anything to do with my fantasy of being a baby and filling my diaper with poop?
Of course. I have lived with this all of my life, I'm 56 years old now, and it is what it is. There is nothing I can do about it. So I don't really think about this stuff much anymore. I am so past the "therapy" stage, and everything else. It is, what it is, the past is the past.
I remember the first time I saw my fantasy played out in real life.
I was about 7 or 8 years-old, at a friend's house, when suddenly his baby sister turned red in the face and pooped her pants. The baby's mother (my friend's mom) smiled a motherly smile and praised her daughter for "filling her britches." I remember the playful, sing-song "baby-talk" her mother was talking. I remember the smell, the smiles, and the loving atmosphere at my friend's house when his baby sister pooped her pants in the living room. The reaction of this baby's mom was so different then my own mother, who hated poopy diapers, and tried to potty-train me at the age of 13 months. I knew at that moment, that I wanted to be a baby again.
So.... I'm able to cope with all this, because I retreat from a wicked world into a soft, loving world, where my pretty mommy loves me and diapers me, and smiles at me when I poop my pants. No, it's not "real", but it is the world that I prefer to live in. So I write stories, I call Mommies, and I wear diapers and poop my pants: It is the only way I can survive this wicked world. We all have to have an escape plan.
Read Camus, Sartre, Shakespeare, and Beckett. They all wrote plays and novels about how fucked up we are as a race of creatures and how fucked up the world is as a place to live.
What if you were Hamlet? Your uncle murders your father, and then takes your loving mother into his bedchamber? The guy who killed your dad, is now fucking your mother, and taking all of your dad's money... Are you supposed to be OK with this? Are you supposed to "get over it"? That's what Shakespeare is trying to tell us: the world is fucked-up! Everyone expects Hamlet to be "normal", to "get on" with his life. But how are you supposed to be "normal" when the guy who poisoned your father, is fucking your mother? Sorry, but Hamlet is the only sane person in the play, the only one who is truly "normal". That's what Shakespeare is trying to say.
Personal experience?
I was 6 years-old when a man lured me to a barn on my grandfather's dairy farm for the purpose of murdering me with a rope tied in a hangman's nose. He almost succeeded in hanging me, (murdering me) but he was caught before he could shove me off the chair with the rope tied around my neck. He later told police that he had always wanted to see what it felt like to kill a little boy by hanging him with a hangman's noose. Later in court he was freed, because doctors "determined" that he was "mentally retarded" with an IQ below 50 points. Yeah, he got away with it. He got away with trying to murder a 6 year-old. How fucked up is that?
Before that, I had a babysitter who burned me with cigarettes to "teach me to stop crying for my mommy" when she dropped me off at the woman's daycare. Years later, my mom once told me, "I always wondered why you cried and fought me so much when I tried to drop you off at daycare." (Hint: if you were a more loving, attentive mom, you would have figured out that she was burning me with cigarettes and that's why I flipped out when you were dropping me off into her tender care.) And yes, the daycare woman who burned me with cigarettes, got away with that too. How fucked up is that? No, I will never be "normal."
And before that, I was born to a woman who didn't really love me, and tried to potty train me when I started walking at the age of 13 months. (My grandmother told me that, and my mother confirmed it.) So, like any other 13 month-old I kept pooping my pants, and this made my mother angry. I was slapped and scolded for doing what comes naturally to a 13 month-old" pooping my pants. At the age of 2 years, my mom tried to potty train again: same result: more pooping of the pants/diapers/training pants. So my mother slapped me again, scolded me, and put me back in diapers and KEPT ME IN DIAPERS UNTIL THE AGE OF FIVE.
That's right, I was five years old when I stopped going in my pants/diapers. I can remember her taking me to a daycare, where they put me in the 2 year-old room, even though I was 5, because I was still in diapers and rubber pants, and going to the bathroom in them like a baby. To this day, my mom defends her actions and said that I left her no choice. She always said when diapering me, "If you want to act like a baby, I'll treat you like a baby." And she did treat me like a baby, in the meanest, most hateful way possible.
Do I have "issues"? You bet I do! I have more issues then Glen Beck!
Does this have anything to do with my fantasy of being a baby and filling my diaper with poop?
Of course. I have lived with this all of my life, I'm 56 years old now, and it is what it is. There is nothing I can do about it. So I don't really think about this stuff much anymore. I am so past the "therapy" stage, and everything else. It is, what it is, the past is the past.
I remember the first time I saw my fantasy played out in real life.
I was about 7 or 8 years-old, at a friend's house, when suddenly his baby sister turned red in the face and pooped her pants. The baby's mother (my friend's mom) smiled a motherly smile and praised her daughter for "filling her britches." I remember the playful, sing-song "baby-talk" her mother was talking. I remember the smell, the smiles, and the loving atmosphere at my friend's house when his baby sister pooped her pants in the living room. The reaction of this baby's mom was so different then my own mother, who hated poopy diapers, and tried to potty-train me at the age of 13 months. I knew at that moment, that I wanted to be a baby again.
So.... I'm able to cope with all this, because I retreat from a wicked world into a soft, loving world, where my pretty mommy loves me and diapers me, and smiles at me when I poop my pants. No, it's not "real", but it is the world that I prefer to live in. So I write stories, I call Mommies, and I wear diapers and poop my pants: It is the only way I can survive this wicked world. We all have to have an escape plan.
Phew! Somebody needs a changing.
I think so highly of you all for sharing your personal hardships like that. It is especially important, in my opinion, that you mentioned that you know that your past experiences shaped who you are today. I think that talking about things can really help different things come to light, and discussing things can often be a good way to come to terms with things that you haven't before! You are all wonderful people and I am lucky to get to know you through this lovely forum <3
XOXO,
Barb
Barb