I have often considered that cross dressing was an arguable way out from the stresses and strains of everyday life.

You know the things – work, family, relationships and the general hustle and bustle of everyday life.

I think I appreciated that little ‘me’ time for more reasons than just wanting to cross dress.  It was a little bit of escapism, a way to recharge the batteries before facing the usual daily challenges head on once more.

At present, everything seems demanding and that relentless churn of it all has led me to begin searching for some sort of escape.

As October gets underway there has been a somewhat stark reminder that I approach a twelve month anniversary since I last crossdressed.  It will be the the start to middle of last November and whilst I can say it has been easier the further away I have gone since last year, the peaks being ridden well, the troughs have been of opposite extremes when they have occurred.

This morning, I gave serious consideration to whether that year should be set as a year off and whether I should allow myself some more crossdressing indulgence again.

Aside from the fact that once I start, little else matters, this morning came the closest of dalliances towards virtual relapse.

Feeling a little under the weather and considering that I would feel better if I got out of bed, I decided that I would pull out one or two of the wife’s never worn (since I last did) permanently stored cami suspender outfits and, standing in front of a mirror in almost my birthday suit, offered them up against my body.

The feel of lingerie against once-more hirsute but otherwise naked flesh made for pleasant sensation.  But the moment lasted little time at all and with two outfits momentarily appreciated, they were soon back on the hangers and I thoughtfully set about the day ahead.

In the aftermath, I have drawn no new conclusions – only those already long since considered – those being that in an ideal world I would love to pull things back on again (but this is no ideal world) and also that there is a lot of good work done in abstaining for so long as well as the fact that I had been so much better involved in so many other things, which would probably all fall by the wayside following a relapse.

Put simply – this is yet more cold turkey – I am STILL the recovering crossdresser.