I lurk quite a bit on this forum (lurking is what I'm good at, on and off line), and came to the conclusion that before I could really start getting a hold on my prodigal mind I needed to tell someone.

So I told my husband. And cried through the whole thing. I said what I had to say, he asked some questions- I even directed him to this place to show I'm not the only one, as if it would somehow cusion the fact that I'm not like other people. While he read, I sat there, dreading…

I never really saw my daydreaming as a problem, per se. This has always been my sordid secret. Sometimes I'm not where my body is, that's the most I've every admitted to what I do. My husband doesn't even know, and we are so close.

Out of curiousity, and perhaps a bit of obsessive studying, I just googled about my fantasies and was brought to a phrase: maladaptive daydreaming. Now I can be a tad phobic about medical conditions, but this was the first time I ever had something…