SitRep.

This is interesting.  This blog has evidently outgrown its prurient scope and is venturing into more personal themes.  That's okay because I have no evidence that anyone reads it.  That's okay too, as anonymity is an essential part of telling the story.

The week before the Christmas holidays was absolutely mad.  Sadly, I mean that quite literally.  I reported earlier, perhaps with more glee and less self-reflection than the event merited, that I had stormed out of my job and into retirement in an emotional huff.  I proceeded to get stoned, crossdressed and hypnotized that same day and stayed that way for a week.  In fact, the only things that brought me down to the earth's surface at all, were that my cumulative weed tolerance was astronomical, and that we had impending house guests.  

Of course they left a few minutes ago, so I'm crossdressed and stoned.   Wife is working upstairs.  

Reflecting upon that mad week I recall feeling very "out of it," meaning that I spent entire days wandering around our home, posing all sissy-like in front of mirrors or sprawled on the couch, reciting my sissy mantra, "I am a sissy faggot transvestite mind-fucked brainwashed hypno-slave."  My impulse control was utterly shattered, and I consumed enormous amounts of weed in a futile effort to keep myself stoned.  I didn't let myself cum all week either; a new behaviour that seems to act as a catalyst for this epic sexual chain reaction.  

I mentioned in an earlier post the various ways in which my behaviour leaves me feeling trapped, in the sense that the arousal is so intense that I doubt that I have the resources to resist.  I often joke that humans have a very limited capacity to resist pleasure, but it's only funny because it's true.  I feel that I've lost even the ability to want to control my sissification and feminization.  I crave to be controlled, brainwashed and made deeply submissive.  I'm further entrapped by the fact that feminization is having the effect of putting my penis into a state of suspended-animation, impeding my sexual function.  The part that got my attention is that being limp felt submissively erotic.  Wow.  

I mentioned being trapped in a breathless erotic tone, as if it was just the peachiest, yummiest thing ever.  Since that post my thoughts are taking a more somber tone; accompanied, in my imagination at least, by the ominous minor chords of doom from the opening credits of a cheap horror movie.  

QUESTION:  At what point does my sexual play become a question of mental health?  

ANSWER:  When it effects your quality of life or that of your loved ones.  

I have largely withdrawn from friendships and social activities.  I am living with a shattered self-esteem, frequent bouts of anxiety and the overall intellectual capacity of a squirrel.  I don't take adequate care of my health.  I do weed.  Lots of it.  My Wife may enjoy the attention, but She didn't sign up to have a dickless feminized sissy husband.  

And suddenly the window became a mirror.  I see my suddenly accelerating sissification as a symptom of my own mental health challenges, partly related to social anxiety and fear of abandonment. I'm "acting out" my fear that my life is falling apart by creating the self-fulfilling conditions that it will fall apart.  There is a perverse logic to it.  I will indeed be less anxious about whether the sky is falling if the sky does actually fall.  Nevertheless, it's no fun to ride an emotional roller coaster all the time.  If I look in the mirror honestly, this is not the most enlightened potential version of "me."

So?  I've never felt less certain of anything in my life.  Over the next few months nearly everything that has been a solid, constant anchor in my life will be dismantled or blown up.  It's going to be a hell of a ride.

/H