My Dark Secret from the Garage Shed

I've always been a private person, but this one thing I need to get off my chest. I'm in my thirties now and have been single since my divorce three years ago. We had kids together and moved back home with my parents for support. After splitting up with him, I was still living here while they were dealing with their grief, staying in the guest bedroom upstairs. But downstairs in the garage shed, there was this space no one used much because it was filled with old junk from my childhood. About a year ago, I started finding myself drawn to that little spot after dark when everyone else was asleep or out. It felt private and safe down there among all those dusty relics of my past, like a place only I could exist in alone. There were these old pillows my mom had kept around since she was young. I didn't know why at first, but soon enough I found myself lying on them, imagining I was somewhere else entirely. It began as just an escape mechanism from the stress of single parenting and adjusting to being a divorced woman again after years with one partner. But then it changed, started feeling more like something darker in my head. The old pillow cases were stained with decades-old sweat and skin oils, almost like they had been used for intimate activities before I was even born. And once that thought crossed my mind, there was no going back. I started touching myself down there in the shed on those pillows, imagining what it might have felt like to be the young woman who'd owned them decades ago. It wasn't just about masturbation anymore; it became this weird fetish thing for me, being inside that shed, with my hands sliding over that old fabric as I brought myself to climax. I know it sounds crazy and wrong, but it's not something I can shake. There are nights when I still find my way down there after everyone else is asleep, the cool cement floor beneath me, wrapping myself in the scent of years gone by while my hands trace patterns on those worn-out pillowcases. It’s my secret dark corner, a place where I pretend to be someone else from another era. I don't know if this is just an odd fixation or something deeper about how I feel trapped between my past and present in the only home I've ever really known. But it's become so integral to me now that I can barely bring myself to think of ending it, let alone actually doing so.