Previous blog entries have referred to a distinct change in mindset caused by recent life events.  Dependent on your point of view, this mood has either got better or worse.

For starters, I’m perhaps somewhat paranoid and arguably irrational, but just lately, I’ve grown tired of being on tenterhooks – albeit of my own hanging – watching my back however good I’ve been at hiding in the closet.  Yes, during times of concern, drama or perceived crisis, I’ve been wondering if, some way, somehow, this was it – but of course, it hasn’t been – I’m being and have been totally irrational but I still haven’t enjoyed feeling that way!

The word ‘deceit’ resonates very strongly these days.  My private actions are, and have been, whether anyone knows about it or not, deceit – that’s really the long and short of it.

Previously, and over a great deal of time that I’ve been indulging, I’ve not cared one iota or at best, cared little – but more recently, I have.  Life isn’t treating me too badly overall,.  Sure I’ve had some challenges to face and appear to be facing them – and that includes crossdressing.  Very recently, I’ve turned to dressing as a coping mechanism, escapism from immediate stress before me, and I suppose it was good whilst it lasted, but the aftermath was quite demoralising, flattening, as if everything that went before was somehow meaningless, pointless – and perhaps it was.

Whereas for a lot of time over recent years, I’ve hardly been able to get dressing out of my head much at all, more recently, it hasn’t been on my mind to anywhere near the same extent.

Trips to get a body wax are most defintely for personal preference these days and not to pre-empt sessions of crossdressing to be as en-femme as possible from the visual stimuli to the actual feeling of material on smooth skin.

Over recent weeks, bar the odd blip, there have been no thoughts, no planning, no stomach fluttering excitement on the way home, no jumping out of bed and into one outfit or another of a morning when time and opportunity arose.  Even this blog entry has been quite a way down the list of priorities, even though there was an aim to get something written at one point or another.

Sure, there have been the odd few days – and I mean odd – where I’ve dressed just because – no more, no less, and it’s been more of the same – web cams, making myself late, deferring other things blah blah blah – everything I’ve said many times before.   But as I said, it has been odd few days and those few days were quite a few days ago now as a standalone.

Life events have reminded me of deceit and I’ve recently blogged about how someone I know has had some very large skeletons (not crossdressing related) come out of their cupboard after their passing – and that, above everything else perhaps, has made me take a long hard look at my own life and where I am in it.  I just can’t talk about and be seen to criticise or stand on the opposite side of someone else’s deceit when manufacturing deceit of my own!

Many times over the history of this blog, I’ve talked through, over, under and around the thoughts, which I’ve considered quite reasonable at times, that if no one was getting hurt, then surely it was no problem, and I’ve even tried, with no avail, to discipline myself to dress solely in private, but that was never going to work in the main.  Fiona is an exhibitionist!

If one is determined to adhere to such stances and ways of life, then fine, but I’m not.  I was, but I’m not now.  I wasn’t happy with things so stopped for a year before things roared back into life some five months or so ago for reasons not totally known to me.   But although things have continued since then, in that time, there has been a far more analytical standpoint being taken as a undercurrent to everything I was doing, irrespective of how enjoyable it might have been.

So let’s summarise my findings.  Sure, I like/liked the dressing, I like/liked the feeling of dressing, I like/liked the look, and perhaps most importantly, I liked, perhaps craved, the attention.  Why?  That’s something that would probably come out through counselling and/or hypnotherapy neither of which I’m inclined to pursue to get a better understanding.

But who was it that was offering that attention to me online?  Men.  99.9% men, and yes, in my peak of excitement and indulgence, I got a kick out of knowing how excited they had become and I was pleased by the nature of comments from some too.  Others, well, they came and went whoever they were!  Were these on-line sessions for the benefit of me or them?

Don’t get me wrong, I have spoken, often repeatedly, with some very nice people on-line and enjoyed some proper conversations at times, but similarly, a majority of folk are, I’m afraid, after what might be determined to help them with their ‘money shot’ – go as far as you want with that descriptor!

Some very nice people like to chat – no more, no less – but they are and have been very few and far between in retrospect.   I don’t get anything out of the majority of web cam sessions, other than perhaps satisfying my own urges in that particular moment of time for what might be an hour or two, three tops and on the odd days of late but again, retrospectively, for what?   The aftermath has not been that great by any shadow of the imagination.

I’m middle aged as statistics go.  This is no slight on anyone and their own personal journey to be who they want to be – as I emphathise – and there IS a different between sympathising and empathising – but I have asked myself (without finding an answer), were I to continue as I had personally been doing, whether I was somehow destined to become a sad, lonely, dirty old man who would ultimately lose everything in life – and for what?

Here and now, and in fact, generally historically, I have a good life, trinkets and collectables, evidence of my hard work as an occupation as well as hobbies and family life, people who I make proud.

My crossdressing does not lead me towards any kind of change of gender or wanting to be someone else – there’s no end game – purely indulgence in something – a fetish, a kink or addiction that I sought comfort in, but I’ll openly admit to being in touch with my feminine side however short or far that might take me and whatever that might or might not mean.     As I’ve said before, I’ve never classed myself as a ‘man’s man’.

But, for me at least, being in touch with one’s feminine side doesn’t mean that I have to embrace secret indulgences and deceit that I now so clearly recognise, even if no-one close to me knows about them.   As I’ve probably said many times before, that doesn’t make it right.

“But if it makes you feel good, why not?” you might say, and there have been many times when I  have whole heartedly subscribed to that sentiment, but equally, there have been many times when I have stopped doing so or done so to a lesser extent.

Having not indulged in crossdressing much of late, great or slight, thoughts or otherwise, I have taken great enjoyment out of doing many other things, or just having some good old fashioned down time, whatever that might entail.

This is Au Revoir but not quite goodbye.  “But is it?” you may ask.  After all, I stopped in November 2015 and resumed in October 2016, so what’s different this time eh?

Well, put it this way, it is ‘au revoir’ for now and who knows, it might eventually be ‘goodbye’.  You might say that I’ve been here before, and you’d be right, but right now, the feelings are very much different.  Recent life events have made me take a hard look at things once more and perhaps more deeply than I have ever done before.

The challenge now is to take further steps to ‘do away’ with it.  Already, on my cam site of choice, I’ve switched images off.  So what’s next?  There are a number of web presences from e-mail accounts to site accounts including webcam, video calling and social networking, many of them set up very recently in the wake of a well documented change of alter-ego/pseudonym.

Can I bring myself to bin-bag and throw, or ‘purge’ things?  No – I can’t – at least not right now.  But I can begin to put them further out of the way, less to hand and on arrival tonight at home, that is exactly what I did as a priority above everything else.

This was, traditionally, at a sort of time of the day and week when I’d perhaps more be focused on what I’d be getting dressed up in when I got home and how long I’d be doing it for and exactly how, hiding away, curtains closed, private dressing time before exhibitionistic tendencies took a very firm hold.   No – right now, this is me, taking and applying some more of that control to which I’ve referred to before.

I’d already laid in bed late at night and first thing in the morning, thinking through the crossdressing trinkets, actual and on-line, planning on-line account deletion perhaps or some other particular course of action, but, right now, I’m somehow not inclined to do that sort of thing.  It’s not important, if they’re largely inactive and I don’t log into them – which, I’ll be frank, I have no motivation to do for any reason at this time, so what?

So, no purging, just a clearing of the decks.  This evening, having already identified a cardboard box, I reached into those hidey holes, pulled out the outfits and the bits and bobs and, largely without even looking at what I was doing, yet being totally aware of what I was doing, they were put into that box out of the corner of my eye – I didn’t want any visual stimuli of a spark in my mind to be ignited, I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of a dangling suspender clasp or strap for example – hence my focus elsewhere.  The box was closed and away everything went, way out of anyone’s sight, in no-man’s land and with no direct trace back to me were they to be found anyway.

To be blunt, it is and has been an addiction, a fetish if you like, and the most difficult thing of doing what I have done tonight was actually seeing and touching things again.   I determined that I was going to do this – it’s ‘cold turkey’ time.   If I wanted to remove the items somewhere remote, then me and only me can take those steps.  No-one ever said that overcoming one’s addiction was easy and without its pitfalls.

The title of this blog is ‘The recovering crossdresser?’ with an emphasis on the question mark and no answer as to whether recovery is stopping or indulging.   But having concluded that it is no longer for me, no longer right and proper for me to do so, right now, I am climbing out of the closet, leaving things behind, closing the door, locking it and somehow dispensing with the magic key that would allow me back in, in my mind’s eye.

It is perhaps the beginning of AN end if not THE end.  That might not go down well with some people who follow my on-line activities, but that’s the way it has to be for me and me alone.

Of course, I am under no illusion that there may be some more difficult times ahead than I am currently experiencing.  Even this week, the allure of a hosiery clad ladies leg and heels seen whilst out and about continues to be hugely invigorating but at this time, for completely heterosexual rather than motivational reasons.   Of course I know how it feels to wear such things – but let’s call it a tick on a bucket list if you like.

I’ll be back to update you some more when the subject matter enters my head.  This blog has wandered in different directions throughout its history on line.  This is merely another.  I thank you for reading and I hope you’ll continue to do so as this journey – wherever it is going – leads me.

Wish me luck if you like – but it’s time for Fiona to pack a bag and take a hike.