Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Here Comes the Rain

In case my tortuous posts of late weren't warning enough, it appears that depression is back in force and that my urge to dress is rising. Today I found it difficult to get out of bed on the same level that I was feeling last year and before, had a frustrating day made worse by my own mood and wore my favourite knickers all day under my normal clothes ostensibly because I was out of underwear (they were in an other room).

I'd talk in greater detail but I suspect that depression would colour my words more than I want them to be coloured right now. Also, it's the same gripe as ever: I just want to dress. I'm genuinely beginning to believe that the sole reason for enjoying and coping so well with the first half term of the new job was down to the fact that, on an evening, I was dressing. Now that I'm not I've ended up feeling under pressure again and ditching Nano. I never realised how much I relied on dressing.

Is this GID?


  1. I think it's more a matter of not having access to your preferred stress coping mechanism. It doesn't help that Tilly has an aversion to contact or emotional connection. I think your early success in the new job was more a factor of relief that you would never have to deal again with the manipulative twits in your old workplace.

    That said, dressing is quite addictive. The more I do it, the harder it is to spend time away from it. I wear knickers and hosiery to work everyday, and often a camisole. I have done this for at least three years now, and it provides a lot of comfort for me. I don't see why you couldn't do the same. It's not like Tilly is ever going to spontaneously put her hand in your trousers and get the surprise of her life, right? Food for thought.

    Not sure if this alone qualifies you for GID, but I'm sure there are other factors you might be harboring. Regardless, having the diagnosis wouldn't change how you feel.

    1. Sorry, you are, of course, correct. I suspect hyperbole on my part with the last statement. I am prone to that. And, as ever, you cut through the fuzzy crap I wrap my thoughts in and state what should have been obvious. Thank you, again, for bringing much needed lucidity and rationality!

      Insert a compliment (I've typed and deleted several) that sums up both your skills and thus your awesome abilities in a familial setting that is not backhandedly offensive or just anodyne here.

      And yes, I have considered, many times, the truism that Tilly is never going to be surprised by what I have on under my clothes. The only thing that has so far stopped me, well, the two things are: my own fear (or Fear) and the fact that I can't actually wash any items I wear. To do so would mean finding a way to get them through the washing without Tilly seeing them at any point, no mean feat without a dryer and with the volume that we do as a family. Not cleaning items would, over time, probably not be a good idea.

      And, yes, diagnosis is nothing more than knowing. Like thinking about my being potentially autistic. It would change nothing, but I would know. I think that is one of the chief reasons that I *don't* have a diagnosis for either.

  2. I came up with an excellent compliment. Thanks!

    Yeah, the washing dilemma. I have gotten around that by taking on the washing of the adult clothes most of the time. And I keep my used scanties segregated. There is also the fact that boy underwear hardly ever appears in our dirty laundry, but I know that I'm not fooling her, or even trying. I just know that she has no interest in handling my female garb, so I save her from that task. And no dryer, that would complicate things, too. I don't have that issue.

    If you had a GID diagnosis, what would you do with it? Present it as evidence to Tilly? Not to mention that you would have to be in therapy to do anything much about it, and we know how highly you think of therapy!

    BTW, I like hyperbole.

    1. I am glad!

      Ah, I have tried but then Tilly will do the washing because she wants to be helpful and she will hang out the drying etc etc etc I can hardly complain about her doing the lion's share of the washing here so I suspect I'll just keep things as they are for the moment. Unless I find another fix in the meantime. I can see how what you do works and I salute that.

      Ah, yes, therapy. I think I actually expected too much of it, I have a bit of a high opinion of what therapy can do, and so I ended up being massively disappointed by what actually happened. I still hope to go back to that one day.

      Anyway, what would I do with a GID diagnosis? Uh... I don't know. Twitch a bit? You're right, it wouldn't change anything really. I guess I'd tell Tilly, I'd have to, but I'm autistic enough (hah) to believe that all it would do would be to provide a name for what at the moment remains nameless. Or, at least, steps up from the self-diagnosis of transvestism (is that even an actual thing beyond the act?).

      I wonder if we could create a personal washer/dryer along the lines of a mini-fridge and a slow-cooker so that it used little power, little water (maybe put in bottled water) and it would run all day and have clean clothes at the other end... There's a product right there methinks.

      Finally, every time I hear/read the word 'hyperbole' I mispronounce it in my head and then remember hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com


All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!