A summer that changed everything
A journey of self-discovery through nudity and resilience
In 1991, I celebrated my eleventh birthday. One day that summer, my mother told me she was going over to her friend Donna’s place and asked if I wanted to go. It was an easy decision since I was friends with Donna’s children. Little did I know that summer would change my life.
When we arrived, Donna told me her daughter was out somewhere in the apartment complex and her son, Thomas, was in his room. I went in, knocked on his door, and he called for me to come in. I walked in and shut the door behind me. The bedroom light was off, and the small window near the ceiling was open, trying in vain to bring in some cool air. Thomas, who was a few months younger than me, was sitting on the floor wearing only his underwear.
After a few minutes of talking and playing with his toys, he stood up, took off his underwear, and tossed it to the side.
“Won’t you get in trouble?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “We’re usually naked when no one’s here, but when I heard you knocking, I put my underwear on. You should get naked too.”
I got undressed, and that was the first time I was naked in front of another person just because. About an hour later, his younger sister came in. She was excited to see me, and after catching up for a bit, she took off her clothes and joined us in playing. Neither of them seemed concerned about their parents walking in, but I was nervous because my mom could be a bit of a prude. However, I realized I didn’t have much to worry about—our parents spent most of their time in the other bedroom doing drugs.
Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Thomas and his sister put on t-shirts and shorts and told me to do the same just as Donna yelled for us to come to dinner. After we ate, we took turns showering and getting ready for bed. Once Donna came in, turned off the lights, and told us it was time to sleep, Thomas and his sister got undressed and went to bed naked. I slept in my clothes, too anxious to sleep nude since I was on the floor and worried about someone seeing me. I also tend to move around a lot in my sleep.
We ended up staying there for the entire summer, including my birthday. Every day, we stayed in the bedroom and stayed naked. Sometime later, after my mom and Donna had a falling out, I lost contact with my friends. I didn’t think much about being nude again until after I turned 18.
Rediscovering nudity and finding comfort
When I was 18, my mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Twice a week, her best friend would take her to physical therapy. One day while they were gone, I was waiting for a friend to go online so we could talk. I needed to wash the dishes before my mom came home, so I quickly got to work and ended up soaking my clothes. I decided to close the living room blinds and get undressed. This time, being nude felt liberating.
From then on, whenever my mom went to physical therapy, I got undressed as soon as she left, relishing the freedom. One day, she told me her therapy schedule had changed, and she’d now be going three times a week. I had to hide my enthusiasm, not wanting to make her suspicious, especially since my younger brother had recently been picked up for public intoxication.
Sadly, it didn’t last. My mom and I started having more arguments, and eventually, I moved out to stay with a friend. Over the next few years, I stayed with different people, but most of them equated nudity with sexuality, so I didn’t try being nude again.
My grandmother, who was in remission from cancer, later asked if I would stay with her and help out. She lived in a small, two-bedroom mobile home. She often slept during the day, so I started spending more time naked. The first night I slept nude, I woke up feeling amazing.
About a year later, my grandmother had a stroke. After she recovered, my mom suggested we all move in together so I could help take care of both of them. I agreed. A week after we moved in, my grandmother had to be hospitalized due to complications from the stroke, and she passed away a few days later.
Afterward, my mom and I talked about what we’d been going through. She admitted she’d been clean for a few months and asked me to continue being her caregiver. I agreed, as it provided decent income. I started sleeping naked again and even bought both of us cell phones so she could call me if she needed something instead of yelling for me over the air conditioner. She didn’t mind my nudity, even when I once told her, “I had to dress in the dark because I couldn’t find my shorts.” Much to my surprise, she just shrugged it off.
Eventually, though, I had to leave. My brother brought his friends over, and they all got high together. I packed up and moved halfway across the country.
Embracing who I am
About a year after moving, I ended up in jail. I spent five years on probation in a halfway house and then served ten years in prison. During my incarceration, I came out as transgender. Near the end of my sentence, I became cellmates with another transgender woman, and we fell in love. In the summer, we both slept naked, though we kept ourselves covered with a sheet to avoid getting in trouble.
Today, I live in transitional housing. For the first four months, I didn’t have a roommate because the woman before me had moved out and locked the door, keeping the key. It took four months for the staff to get a locksmith to open it. During that time, I spent most of my time nude in my bedroom. I even told my case manager that I’m a nudist and put a sign on my door that says, “I am naked.” She was fine with it as long as I stayed mindful of staff walk-throughs.
On Christmas, when my roommate went on a ten-hour pass to visit family, I spent the entire time naked in the apartment, reliving the comfort and freedom I hadn’t felt in years. Recently, I made a friend who invited me to move in with her and my girlfriend when she gets out of prison. I told her that both my girlfriend and I are nudists, and she said that was fine.
Looking back, my journey has been full of challenges, but I’ve learned to embrace who I am. Nudity, for me, is about more than just being without clothes—it’s about freedom, self-acceptance, and finding peace in a chaotic world. As I look ahead, I’m hopeful for a future where I can continue living authentically, surrounded by people who support and accept me. 🪐
Editor’s note: While this story is not technically fiction, we are sharing it as a Stories feature because we believe it represents creative writing and a compelling personal narrative that aligns with the ethos of Stories.
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