The Adult Baby Story

Originally posted at Words by Maria Catt

How different does the daily narrative you are building in your head have to be from the narrative the world is witnessing before it’s a problem? The party line seems to be that people’s personal narratives have a sacredness about them. Perhaps because telling people who they are, how they look, seems cruel in a world where we all seem so crushable, so disposable, so un-special, so regular. From a mental health standpoint they encourage practitioners to enter into these narratives to build a relationship with the client. If you have a new client come in talking about invisible bugs all over their skin, it is not helpful to argue with them about it. They will leave your office and never return. You enter into their world, you discuss the bugs with them, you write your impressions in a file about them, you assess whether their delusions and hallucinations make them a threat to themselves or others. You treat them as a sick person but you do not reveal to them that that is what they are to you.

There was a client who was an adult baby at the clinic. What that meant is that this person who was actually male and in his fifties lived full time as a female baby. Like, what he had everyone call him was “Baby Jessica.” (It wasn’t Jessica, it was another name, duh.) Now, people don’t actually use the word “Baby” as a title when referring to babies, usually. Except if the baby is trapped in a well. But in an adult baby’s life there are lots of contradictions. Babies don’t take blood pressure medication. Babies don’t argue with receptionists over rushing the submission of insurance forms. Babies aren’t assertive about insisting that the staff of their doctors’ office respect their baby identity.

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