Ashley Williams
12-10-2007, 02:40 AM
I have a dilemma that I am sure is not unusual - but does not make it easier to resolve.
I am compelled to cross-dress. I hate the compulsion but love, especially, the feel of nylon lingerie under my clothes. Having returned to the habit after years of abstinence, I have now gone back to the essential dilemma. I do not like who I am and it seems such a waste.
In my first marriage, my wife and I faced many issues and had a fairly turbulent time. In a sense my cross-dressing was just part of the mix. Even so, I sought guidance from my priest and confessor who helped a lot regarding my sense of self-worth and recommended counselling. From there I went on to a psychotherapist, with whom I found at least a way of rationalising things to myself and a vocabulary to use in my thinking about myself.
Even so, the first marriage literally fell apart when we lost the ability to communicate meaningfully. When we re-discovered ourselves, again through counselling, we found that we had different visions of the future and following them brought an end to the marriage.
I was then on my own for a number of years. I rebuilt my life and made good connections with people, both at work and in a reasonable social life. Living alone meant I could indulge my love of lingerie as much as l liked, which was not actually all that often. I would go through periods where all I wanted to do at the weekend was spend the time on my own while dressed and others when I was not motivated to dress at all.
Then I went through a stage when I felt that the only way I could work through it all was to 'share' with my friends and colleagues.
That was not helpful as I was rejected by most, tolerated by some and overall I felt it cut me off. I then reasoned that going to a cross-dressing venue, pretty local to me at the time, would be a better tactic. This encouraged me to make more of an effort, and I did put all my drama training to good use with makeup, wig and quite a nice outfit. I certainly drew a lot of encouragement from some of the others, but again never really felt 'connected' - and certainly never dared to go out dressed, despite being urged to do so.
The last straw came when I moved out of London and settled in Essex. Still on my own, I made a special effort to go to another cd venue. I had a fabulous new outfit and was feeling very bold. The venue, however, was full of people dressed, for the most part, more like my mother than I was comfortable with.
It felt like a freak show, and I threw away all my 'gear' - underwear included.
For almost ten years I did not have the urge to dress. I felt freed from the tyranny of going through a department store and not being able to resist a half hour just 'window-shopping' in the lingerie section.
I still had recourse, from time to time, to a therapist who helped me with the fundamental issue that would still regularly plague me - feeling 'unworthy' somehow. Always having been someone who thinks a lot, I would find his occasional input really got me out of the knot I would inevitably get myself tied up in.
Then I had a very stormy relationship with a woman who was very unstable herself. Our sex life was like nothing I had ever experience, though, and included her dressing me in some of her lingerie to make love.
When that relationship ended, though, I had still had no desire to dress again on my own.
Shortly afterwards I met the person who became my second wife. Her background and persona, by contrast, were very straightforward and I felt able to communicate with her better than with anyone else before. This included the fact that I 'used to cross-dress.' This was a genuine situation - I truly believed that it was now an issue from my past and in what for me was the most complete relationship of my life, I felt that the only way was up, so to speak.
We settled into our life, and accommodating my new 16 year old step-daughter and my wife's very close family was a joy. We had our challenges, of course, but faced them and grew in ways I had never experienced. My family rarely impinged on our lives at all, being very spread out, including other countries.
Then my mother became dependent on care and I suffered a major set-back at work. I became depressed and again sought counselling. I left employment and struck out on my own. My new business failed and I was prescribed medication to cope with my bad feelings about myself.
On the whole we got through it all, but my family issues became more pressing as my mother's health declined and I was the only member of the family willing to provide any real support. She died 18 months ago and my family now have nothing to do with me.
My relationship with my wife continued to strengthen through all of this, and we had an excellent sex life. In terms of frequency, nothing exceptional, but we experimented a bit and used literature and videos to enhance our enjoyment.
Then, through the on-line links in the magazine we subscribed to, I discovered as site called 'Slip Heaven'.
A website devoted to women dressed, on the whole quite modestly, but only in slips, took me right back to the start of my dressing habit as a ten year-old looking at the 60s ads in my older sister's magazines and the underwear section of my mother's home shopping catalogue.
I found it so erotic that I could not resist the temptation to masturbate. This did not, initially, involve anything 'silky' to assist, but eventually I borrowed some of my wife's old things, tucked deep in the bottom of her wardrobe, to enhance my solitary sessions. I did not put anything on for years - feeling that this was a barrier I did not want to cross again. As far as I could tell, our sex-life did not diminish or suffer by my solitary pursuits.
A dilemma was devloping, though and my traditional support was suddenly absent - when I tried to arrange a session with my therapist I discovered that he had died.
I could resist no longer - and bought myself some nylon underwear. The electric feeling of wearing nylon while looking at the wonderful pictures brought me to frequent and intense self-enjoyment rivalling anything I had known before.
Again, with no apparent effect on my physical relationship, the 'damage' was less than I feared it might have been but a point had been breached and with no-one to talk to or confide in, I was truly caught.
I felt I could not share this with my wife. I was afraid that she would feel it was tantamount to having an affair. The level of guilt has grown steadily over the past two years and I am more alone than ever with a habit that is now as powerful as ever, but hugely disruptive to my sense of worth.
During that time my wife and I have moved and gone into a joint business. This means we can go weeks where we are together every minute of the day. We started off very well, but as it has grown, the demands have increased and over the last year my wife's health has left her very de-motivated. She does not sleep much and is now permanently irritable. I am less effective than I could/should be and am feeling the burden. I now spend most days wearing nylon underwear and it is almost my only source of comfort, for which I feel intense guilt.
I am desperately worried that my wife and I are going down the same path that ended my first marriage, but I do believe that love is still there and if we could arrest this slide into non-communication it could only help. The last thing I want, though, is to burden her with my issues in addition to her own. That is a cowardly way of looking at it in some ways, yet I really fear for our future if things carry on as they are.
Working and living so closely and with little time-out, I have lost my individual life almost entirely, except for my 'secret corner'.
My doctor referred me to counselling, but that was disrupted when we had to move again recently. We have moved in with my father-in-law as he is no longer able to cope alone. Although the house has been completely re-done to give us all enough space, and we are now back in what was my wife's child-hood home, the strain of being with a fading eighty-plus year-old is adding to all our woes.
I discovered crossdressers.com some months ago and after a flurry of posts, wasn't sure how best to contribute. A dip into depression didn't help - but now I am struggling to come out the other side.
This has turned into a far bigger post than I intended - so apologies for that. I am not sure even what I am expecting by putting it up, but who knows. Sharing might help!
I am compelled to cross-dress. I hate the compulsion but love, especially, the feel of nylon lingerie under my clothes. Having returned to the habit after years of abstinence, I have now gone back to the essential dilemma. I do not like who I am and it seems such a waste.
In my first marriage, my wife and I faced many issues and had a fairly turbulent time. In a sense my cross-dressing was just part of the mix. Even so, I sought guidance from my priest and confessor who helped a lot regarding my sense of self-worth and recommended counselling. From there I went on to a psychotherapist, with whom I found at least a way of rationalising things to myself and a vocabulary to use in my thinking about myself.
Even so, the first marriage literally fell apart when we lost the ability to communicate meaningfully. When we re-discovered ourselves, again through counselling, we found that we had different visions of the future and following them brought an end to the marriage.
I was then on my own for a number of years. I rebuilt my life and made good connections with people, both at work and in a reasonable social life. Living alone meant I could indulge my love of lingerie as much as l liked, which was not actually all that often. I would go through periods where all I wanted to do at the weekend was spend the time on my own while dressed and others when I was not motivated to dress at all.
Then I went through a stage when I felt that the only way I could work through it all was to 'share' with my friends and colleagues.
That was not helpful as I was rejected by most, tolerated by some and overall I felt it cut me off. I then reasoned that going to a cross-dressing venue, pretty local to me at the time, would be a better tactic. This encouraged me to make more of an effort, and I did put all my drama training to good use with makeup, wig and quite a nice outfit. I certainly drew a lot of encouragement from some of the others, but again never really felt 'connected' - and certainly never dared to go out dressed, despite being urged to do so.
The last straw came when I moved out of London and settled in Essex. Still on my own, I made a special effort to go to another cd venue. I had a fabulous new outfit and was feeling very bold. The venue, however, was full of people dressed, for the most part, more like my mother than I was comfortable with.
It felt like a freak show, and I threw away all my 'gear' - underwear included.
For almost ten years I did not have the urge to dress. I felt freed from the tyranny of going through a department store and not being able to resist a half hour just 'window-shopping' in the lingerie section.
I still had recourse, from time to time, to a therapist who helped me with the fundamental issue that would still regularly plague me - feeling 'unworthy' somehow. Always having been someone who thinks a lot, I would find his occasional input really got me out of the knot I would inevitably get myself tied up in.
Then I had a very stormy relationship with a woman who was very unstable herself. Our sex life was like nothing I had ever experience, though, and included her dressing me in some of her lingerie to make love.
When that relationship ended, though, I had still had no desire to dress again on my own.
Shortly afterwards I met the person who became my second wife. Her background and persona, by contrast, were very straightforward and I felt able to communicate with her better than with anyone else before. This included the fact that I 'used to cross-dress.' This was a genuine situation - I truly believed that it was now an issue from my past and in what for me was the most complete relationship of my life, I felt that the only way was up, so to speak.
We settled into our life, and accommodating my new 16 year old step-daughter and my wife's very close family was a joy. We had our challenges, of course, but faced them and grew in ways I had never experienced. My family rarely impinged on our lives at all, being very spread out, including other countries.
Then my mother became dependent on care and I suffered a major set-back at work. I became depressed and again sought counselling. I left employment and struck out on my own. My new business failed and I was prescribed medication to cope with my bad feelings about myself.
On the whole we got through it all, but my family issues became more pressing as my mother's health declined and I was the only member of the family willing to provide any real support. She died 18 months ago and my family now have nothing to do with me.
My relationship with my wife continued to strengthen through all of this, and we had an excellent sex life. In terms of frequency, nothing exceptional, but we experimented a bit and used literature and videos to enhance our enjoyment.
Then, through the on-line links in the magazine we subscribed to, I discovered as site called 'Slip Heaven'.
A website devoted to women dressed, on the whole quite modestly, but only in slips, took me right back to the start of my dressing habit as a ten year-old looking at the 60s ads in my older sister's magazines and the underwear section of my mother's home shopping catalogue.
I found it so erotic that I could not resist the temptation to masturbate. This did not, initially, involve anything 'silky' to assist, but eventually I borrowed some of my wife's old things, tucked deep in the bottom of her wardrobe, to enhance my solitary sessions. I did not put anything on for years - feeling that this was a barrier I did not want to cross again. As far as I could tell, our sex-life did not diminish or suffer by my solitary pursuits.
A dilemma was devloping, though and my traditional support was suddenly absent - when I tried to arrange a session with my therapist I discovered that he had died.
I could resist no longer - and bought myself some nylon underwear. The electric feeling of wearing nylon while looking at the wonderful pictures brought me to frequent and intense self-enjoyment rivalling anything I had known before.
Again, with no apparent effect on my physical relationship, the 'damage' was less than I feared it might have been but a point had been breached and with no-one to talk to or confide in, I was truly caught.
I felt I could not share this with my wife. I was afraid that she would feel it was tantamount to having an affair. The level of guilt has grown steadily over the past two years and I am more alone than ever with a habit that is now as powerful as ever, but hugely disruptive to my sense of worth.
During that time my wife and I have moved and gone into a joint business. This means we can go weeks where we are together every minute of the day. We started off very well, but as it has grown, the demands have increased and over the last year my wife's health has left her very de-motivated. She does not sleep much and is now permanently irritable. I am less effective than I could/should be and am feeling the burden. I now spend most days wearing nylon underwear and it is almost my only source of comfort, for which I feel intense guilt.
I am desperately worried that my wife and I are going down the same path that ended my first marriage, but I do believe that love is still there and if we could arrest this slide into non-communication it could only help. The last thing I want, though, is to burden her with my issues in addition to her own. That is a cowardly way of looking at it in some ways, yet I really fear for our future if things carry on as they are.
Working and living so closely and with little time-out, I have lost my individual life almost entirely, except for my 'secret corner'.
My doctor referred me to counselling, but that was disrupted when we had to move again recently. We have moved in with my father-in-law as he is no longer able to cope alone. Although the house has been completely re-done to give us all enough space, and we are now back in what was my wife's child-hood home, the strain of being with a fading eighty-plus year-old is adding to all our woes.
I discovered crossdressers.com some months ago and after a flurry of posts, wasn't sure how best to contribute. A dip into depression didn't help - but now I am struggling to come out the other side.
This has turned into a far bigger post than I intended - so apologies for that. I am not sure even what I am expecting by putting it up, but who knows. Sharing might help!