Keeps Out the Enemy

Breaking streaks is never a nice feeling. Nearly two years ruined by an attempted downsize in a heatwave that led to a poor sleep a few days back and I woke unable to move my left shoulder properly nor turn my head. Initially I couldn't move them at all. It's getting better, but waking this morning was accompanied by the same sickly feeling that came from way back when I first donned it and took a couple of weeks of on/off wear to clear. I have thus gone a full day now without either the new or the old and I worry I may have hit a barrier like with the Great Experiment. I hope not, but one can never tell.

A mighty host of Seraphon (Lizardmen), to which 
I have done nothing at all, the work of Middlest. 

Middlest and Youngest were over today for a game of Warhammer. Middlest was struggling: with the heat, with time of life, with existential questions - and so struggled to read and apply the rules. The heat also meant that Youngest was on a hair trigger and struggled to keep invested in the game beyond trying to annoy his sibling. It seemed to work mostly well, I am reasonably pleased that my attempt to make 40K Orks and Gretchin work in a fantasy setting (and create an Orc Mage from whole cloth rules wise) seems to have been balanced enough - even if it did mean that Middlest's gribbly monster basically tanked a fusillade of concentrated gunfire before going down without causing a single casualty (his unit of skinks wiped out the Orc archers before they got in range though).

I have managed one whole contract and done some extra, which is nice. I have mostly kept my head above water on the second, my usual favourite, and am now embroiled in a third that I have been finding harder. Part of that is the bad sleep I've been getting (average is about six hours rather than my usual seven or more) and the neck thing - it's hard to focus when muscle pain makes you feel a bit nauseous. I even had to resort to paracetamol and, well, that's not been my style. Still, not denying that having to resort to it felt strangely affirmational. I am strange, I know.

Youngest's Blood Orc Horde, led by the Death
Mage (for whom I had to make up rules from
scratch, and spells).

I continue to take on board extra hours I shouldn't. I continue to partake in bad habits that I do in marking. I continue to mull on how bad a parent I have been and continue to be. I continue to have strangely vivid dreams about the end of my relationship with Tilly - her being disappointed and saddened for good reasons and the residual emotional fall-out from that. Speaking of, she had confirmed via diagnosis some suspicions she'd had since I moved out. I apologised on her telling me last week for not having put two and two together myself. She accepted my apology, and then moved on. I guess I still hoped for some reciprocity, but I never spent any time setting that up so I can hardly really expect it now. Besides, why would she? What on earth would be the point?

House news: new plaster cracks suggest a drying out of some parts of the house I hadn't known were wet, drainpipes at the rear are detached from the house, leading to one pipe to fall apart so now my bath and sink don't quite drain into the drain and it looks like the toilet and shower pipe might fall down if I don't get that fixed soon. Good thing I'm doing these examination contracts I guess!

Birnam Wood to Dunsinane

To the person that needs to read these words: do not do as I have done.

Nerdy Bunny enjoyed her mocha stout, 
but it was sharper and more bitter like 
a coffee than a mocha. Not enough chocolate 
malt or sweetness, in her opinion.

And, lest we forget, she has
"Opinionthsth"

When young, unknowing what I was experiencing but certain I had something to hide I took care to avoid committing to friendships or developing ties. I thought to protect potential friends from what I might be concealing - which turned out multiple times to be dysphoria had I but known the name. Not being attracted to men, I thought it was simply not possible to be like the brave people I knew about who did transition - were I to be a woman, thought I when young, then I would have to like men - and I didn't like men so I couldn't be a woman. Besides, I was very keen on having a girlfriend and no girl would want a boy who was not a boy.

Thus I ignored any glances my way, assuming there were any, and was incapable of making the requisite moves to make anything happen. Going to University I eschewed the opportunity to find out more about myself, out of fear of what I was reasonably certain lurked inside by this point, and pointedly refused to let myself do any of the things I dreamed about. Besides, I had a girlfriend and I was reasonably certain she didn't want to date a man who thought he was a girl. Anxious to avoid being boastful, being self-obsessed and too 'up myself' - faults I diagnosed in myself and still struggle not to see the symptoms in my everyday life - witness this whole blog as testament!

In the end, more by luck than management, I achieved a relationship that became a marriage through my own bloody-mindedness and, arguably, against the better judgement of the poor lady I married. Still I avoided looking at what I now had more vocabulary to name, my being transgender, in the hope that I could instead focus on being a husband and father. The stress remained, often unknown in terms of whence it came, because I refused to acknowledge what should now have been obvious. This led me to double down on avoiding friends and maintaining contacts - I had all I needed with Tilly and the children and my career.

A Christmas tree in a shopping centre
provides the backdrop.

We were out getting some extra book
tokens, because I struggle at basic counting
it would appear.

So it was that when I lost those things, one after the other, I was left with nothing. My friends were still my friends but they are far distant, trained well in being unable to offer support. Besides which, I rejected and still struggle to not reject what help and support they offered. I have worked hard to be someone in whom it is difficult to invest. I've said it before and I was not inaccurate: I am not a rewarding person with whom to persevere. Taciturn, inconstant, and prone to dismiss positives in favour of harbouring the insults and slights, real or imagined. Forty years of treading wears a path that has high banks and brambles enough that straying or striking out is hard and oft returns to the main route out of ease and habit.

Triple booking the evening tonight doesn't help. Of course I went to watch my eldest two perform in Macbeth as a result of their drama club - my eldest in the titular role and excelling, the middlest as Ross with great voice acting but nothing in the body - and enjoyed it. But I left immediately lest the Eldest have to hang back on seeing me. Tilly was filming it, or she would not have been at the same performance as I, and ignored me as much as possible. Ostensibly because she was stressing about technology but finding time and headspace to chat to friends. I do not blame her - those conversations were more fulfilling for considerably less effort than would have been required to chat to me for far less reward. It meant not going to see Wicked with Abbi - tickets for which she booked before I realised my error - nor going to the work's do. Honestly, the latter may well have been a bullet dodged given my track record of work dos in general.

Still dead. A man comes to have a look
on Monday.

And so, dear reader who needs to read these words, do not hide from yourself and do not fence yourself from others. Be honest. Maybe you embrace who you are and maybe you do not. Whatever you choose, do so with your eyes open and accept the friendship of others. If you struggle with self-worth then accept at least that you are worth what others place upon you - because they get to choose that and you do not.

When my father thought he was dying he listed his achievements against his own father - coming out as 'better' in nearly all categories: living longer, achieving better academic results, accruing more wealth, gaining more love etc etc. Whilst he was telling me this, I was counting my own against his and coming up lesser in all he mentioned. And that was before I lost my career or contact with my eldest. "Won't you be lonely?" asked my Mum of me when I revealed I had some days off around Christmas, entirely unexpectedly, and I pondered. No more than I have been since my teen years.

Don't seek loneliness.

Don't be like me. I sought loneliness. I was too scared of being found out to risk committing. And now I reap my just rewards.

Bullet Points

Bullets are the beauty in a blistering sky, bullets are the beauty and I don't know why.

Eldest doesn't want to rebuild things with me. Nor me to try with her.

The potential teaching gig fell at the wording of the dismissal from my last place, like I originally feared.

IKEA application rejected a second time.

Leak remains, as far as I know, unrepaired. I shan't know until it rains.

First acknowledgement of anything I've done at work for a week is a moan about how little I am doing.

Chances high of having no work soon. But I've put in another full month, so I shall get some income.

It's not the sadness, but the hope. Hope will kill you in the end.

Sometimes one discovers that one is not painting things black so much as using black because that's what it looks like and that's what it is. £23 on shopping, £4 on heating the house for an hour plus making some food. It's as well the teaching fell through, I lack the funds to travel nor update my cosplay wardrobe enough to be a full teacher out of context. Bus driving remains, I suppose, we shall see. There is no luck but what luck one makes for one's self. I think it's safe to say I have made some pretty awful situations for myself this last year. Many worse than I realised at the time, the rest as bad as I feared. I'm one of the lucky ones though - I am not yet homeless. Just... I have lost my identity as a teacher, lost my family life, lost a partner, lost a daughter (who still lives but would prefer I did not), lost at least one job (maybe two soon) and any kind of security. Was it worth it?

Not sure I can answer the same way as Tennant. I heard this first in 1991 on Discography and remember how it made me feel back then, it was Christmas. The tape it was on would chew up and die on Boxing Day. A second was sought and died within hours. The third I dared not play for fear of losing it, so I recorded it on another tape - which died when played. Then nothing until I picked it up on CD some time in the early 2000s. This was the song it died on each and every time on tape. A hint perhaps?

Personal responsibility / Personal response insanity

Sandstorm Calling

New version of that dress. 
Honestly, I really felt comfortable. I 
would add lipstick later. 

This is an entry to record how I dressed to my meeting back last week at work. It may be the only chance, for a while, to record my attempt at professional teacher chic. Also to record, as I am wont, the fact that I was sacked from one of my marking contracts today. I kind of expected it, to be honest, I've long since lost my touch in that unit. I have sort of thrown my lot firmly in with another board and am much better there and with that process. Also GCSE marking. It's a shame, I may end up ruing the loss of about £700 worth of income shortly, but at least there's a modicum of less stress.

Also had about three hours' conversation with my Dad's wife about how to fill in a Discrimination questionnaire sent to me by my Union Rep. She's got a doctorate in HR and is a Fellow of some HR thing or other so I very much value her advice. Several times she was disappointed in things I hadn't said or challenged at the time as we went through events. She has counselled that I have a weak case unless I am dismissed, where it may indicate that I was dismissed for discrimination reasons. Basically, if I am not dismissed, this goes nowhere anyway, so I am happy with that. Still not finished. I am nothing if not draining of good will and time.

0627 one day in 2014. A holiday, I think,
before anyone else in the house was awake. 
The bed is made up behind me - maybe I
had slept there? I do not recall.
Posted here as it happens.

First full day without make-up since sometime in March today - it meant that I could lean on my hands a lot and rub my eyes as I went through a long meeting for standardisation (the joys of no video link) which was good. But... honestly, not worth catching sight of my stubble as I pass the mirror in the hall. I think I shall wear make-up tomorrow again. Strange how quickly I got used to a face without a dark shadow on it. Or, rather, how quickly I have become accustomed to seeing myself in foundation only, rather than without I mean.

I had cause to revisit the time I felt I was packing more and more of myself away in the box with my femme clothing today. It was... a reminder how far I have come I suppose. How much has changed. The prices paid for the things I now treasure. I missed what I had lost, but I treasure what I have gained. Then a reminder of some very very old photos I took of myself - perhaps for GetDare? I cannot recall. They date from 2014, 2015. Things were so different back then. To any readers who look longingly at clothes they feel they cannot have, who look at photos of me now (like the one that adorns this entry) and marvel at such a thing - before letting the guilt and the repression claim them anew: take heart little one. You will find a way through to something that fits you. It doesn't have to be transition. It doesn't have to be fetish. It doesn't have to be anything. You don't have to. To myself, in 2014: you will miss what you fear you will miss, but you will also be yourself.

Little by Little

New glasses. Hair not that long yet.

One thing that completely slipped my mind and didn't get reported, and it absolutely deserves to be reported, was a comment on the last day of school back on Tuesday. It was delivered as a throwaway remark based on a throwaway one of my own as we were leaving the room that has served as an office for much, well all, of this rather odd year in teaching. I made a comment that I have made many many times before without anyone feeling the need to say anything back, I said: "Ugh, my hair is an absolute mess" and I made it without expecting anyone to even notice that I'd said it. One of the main aspects of being autistic means that I tend to verbalise my internal dialogue randomly and unhelpfully. Maybe at one time in the dim and distant past I was fishing for compliments? I don't know.

This time was different, as Miss Warrington announced, apparently with some feeling, "No, your hair is beautiful!" and then swept out of the room before I had chance to respond.

Pause whilst I read that back again. And then I exhale.

The look yesterday and today.

FaceApp is struggling with the t-shirt,
but I like the glasses.

I have had a negative PCR, consistently negative Lateral Flow Tests, and I have missed the support group meeting last night. There was no gaming night either, as had been planned, which was a shame. I spent the evening being very bored. However, I spent the whole day dressed and used the heat of it to be out in the garden weeding and dressed. I was in the dungaree dress thing and my butterfly design t-shirt, wearing the glasses that arrived on Wednesday - the 'cat-eye' design ones. It was... well, it was a good day if a little on the boring side. I finished it off by getting into bed with my nightie and thus, with today, have spent over 36 hours dressing as me. Strangely enough it did not involve any climaxing, like that wasn't the reason for me dressing. And I have no work on, nor stresses, so it wasn't even a stress response. Imagine that.

I had been out for a walk with a different pair on Wednesday night - don't worry, I went on a route where I met very very few people and was sufficiently out of the way that I wasn't breaking quarantine. I mean, maybe I was, who knows? One thing I can report is that I like how I feel when I am wearing glasses and wished I could have had the courage to go out fully dressed.

I don't know why, but I like this shot.

To do that, of course, I really must invest some money in make-up and time in practice so that I can at least soften the edges of my eyes, the five o'clock shadow and so forth. Time for another day. I have ordered and gained a wallplanner, this is excellent, and my school shoes for next year - whatever happens I don't think I'm ready to be 'out' at work just yet. Maybe, maybe in the future. Maybe if I take action that means it becomes harder to cross-dress as a man. Maybe.

Today, after having confirmation of my negative PCR, I picked up shopping on the click and collect thing for the rest of the family. Tilly had 'panicked' in her words and ordered enough shopping for the full ten day isolation - it came to around £100 she said, and was thus much more expensive than her usual shops. Huh, when I was at home we regularly exceeded £100 and it rarely lasted a full week. Was I really that expensive to keep? Probably. I had to get changed from my preferred clothes into cross-dressing as male clothes, which was a wrench, but doable.

And then word came via e-mail that the Decree Absolute has been granted. This means, under UK law, that we, Tilly and I, are divorced now. That marriage that lasted from 2008 to, well, now, is over.

Pause whilst I read that back again. And then I exhale.

Just now, a further happy thing, someone else new to the support group got into contact to ask if all was well as they had missed me there last night. If that's not a lovely thing then I don't know what is. I've even managed to tie my hair back a bit. Will wonders never cease?

Pancake Day?

Yes, it's pancake day.

It's pa- pa- pa- pa- pa- pancake day.

On the left as you look at it, I remember
aching to look like that as a child. I even went
so far as to look at a fancy dress costume of
French maid once in Sixth Form.

A couple of times, never bought the costume
of course.

Forgive the indulgence, but since Tilly moved in with me I have cooked no pancakes. Now, I didn't much beforehand - being alone meant that I could never quite muster the enthusiasm - but I had done in 2005 with Toby. In 2006 I was much to alone and depressed and in 2007 Tilly was preparing to move. We agreed that pancake day would be a thing and that we would make pancakes in 2008 instead, something I definitely looked forward to. But it wasn't to be. I bought in the ingredients but Tilly was too full of morning sickness and it was shelved. After that... well, we didn't in 2009 because having a little one proved a bit too difficult, nor in 2010 because Tilly was pregnant again. Nor in 2011, little one, nor 2012 (I was too depressed to bring it up). 2013 it was done, by Tilly for the children, whilst I was at work. I got to do the washing up. Not observed in 2014, 2015 or 2016. But again in 2017 and 2018 it was done around lunchtime with me doing the washing up afterwards. In 2019 it was skipped again. 2020 was the most annoying - again it was done whilst I was at work, with much fanfare on Facebook, but I didn't find out until I got home and had to do the washing up.

This year I had been toying with the idea of doing it myself, and Tilly surprised me by saying that the children didn't actually like pancakes, indeed the last few years they tossed some but ate none, she told me. She was thus aiming for some Scotch pancake decorating on the Tuesday afternoon. I was confused, given our history of it, and so began my own preparations. I got in enough to make some pancakes, took Tilly at face value and assumed the children would help make the mixture, maybe flip one, and I'd eat them. 

More crepe than your standard US style pancake
perchance?

Well, of course they wanted to eat the pancakes. I had not planned for anyone other than me to eat them, so I only had in sugar and lemon juice (my favourites). But I had some chocolate spread and honey lying around to add to the party. The elder two, for the youngest was not with us, not only enjoyed making the mixture and cooking them (they did not flip, apparently Tilly had put them off that by having only one pre-cooked pancake for flipping photos in 2020, which explains that) but also enjoyed trying out various topping combinations and eating well. I make pancakes the way my family always had - a bit on the large side (the recipe I found offered 14 pancakes, it make just four of the size I am used to, well, remember from my youth - I have the original frying pan). It was fun, we ate well. But it was Monday, not Tuesday - Tilly had already said that she wanted to do some pancake fun with them on the Tuesday.

Alas, not these.

I do have some with
butterflies on though and
I do love them.

Obviously I was reprimanded on the evening when returning children. Tilly reminded me that she had deliberately told me her plans so that, she explained, I wouldn't do pancakes with them - that was what she was going to do. Furthermore, they wouldn't want to do pancakes twice in a row. Also, I was ten minutes late back with them, and now her evening was ruined. It would be over an hour until I got a text saying that I didn't need to be sorry and that things were mostly okay. The fact that the children had expressed excitement at doing pancakes with Tilly as well was neither here nor there. The fact that she had lied about them not liking pancakes was, it seems, irrelevant.

In other news, perhaps more fitting for this blog, I haven't worn boxers very much. I've worn them just six times since the New Year, four of which was in chastity when I was attempting to stop the chafing getting worse (I have three pairs that have a tight pouch like effect). It is most comfortable, and quite nice, something that I have tried before but now there is no guilt. I can wear knickers, wash them, dry them and then wear them again. Fantastic. Something so simple, so apparently harmless, and it's taken a divorce to realise. Oh, yeah, the Decree Nisi comes into effect sometime over the next couple of weeks, then I have to wait six weeks and one day until the Absolute - that's how divorce works here in the UK at any rate.

Awkward curtsy

Going Out pt 2

 On the 24 October 2011 I went out for a walk in skirt and heels. The heels weren't really heels, they were wedges from ASDA that I had bought after a bit of an argument with Tilly early on in our relationshiop. It was after we had rowed about my cross-dressing that summer, after Tilly had decided that I was a pervert and evil and wrong and that I had misled her. After the end of the relationship, had I but known it at the time.

Not quite the wedges I bought, but close enough

I had to leave the house to get changed in the dark down the back of the streets where I lived, and I recall that I was surprised by someone walking in the dark on a windy evening indeed. I wore the wedges and then put on a skirt, it was one abandoned by Tilly. She insisted on keeping it until 2013 when she finally threw it out and ensured I couldn't claim it. But I had worn it already, so I was definitely in the wrong there - you should never steal anyone else's clothes. And it wasn't a long walk. It felt like a long time, I walked around the side of a street and then took the skirt off, and walked the rest of the way in jeans, all the way back down the road we lived on and into the woods. Where I stopped, removed the shoes and then walked the short distance home in trainers. I stopped in the car and wrote a record on my phone. And then, a few months later, I wrote it up as the third post in this blog. 5 December 2011.

Do you remember this as an aim and
as a hope for someone I'd meet in the same
image? I do.

Now I live alone. My musings on what I wanted from back then have been revealing. I kinda knew. I knew back then this is how it would end. But timing. Later on I would buy some boots, also from ASDA, also after an argument, also for repeating that lovely experience of walking late at night and preferably in a skirt. Over time I dropped the idea of adding a skirt because, well, I didn't really have anything like the long skirt that I had lifted from Tilly that would look like trousers from a distance. But, that was 2011. And then 2012. then we moved in 2013. And then it was suddenly 2019, and then it was 2020 and we split and then it was the New Year. And now...

Now it's 2021. And I have some time because I have finally got ahead of myself with planning for teaching in this Lockdown. And I went out in my boots. Not for long, not far (too scare) but it was nice. Just nice. It wasn't as electrifying as the first time in 2011, because since then things have rather moved on. I have spent a lot of time dressed and I have been in chastity, for over 180 days, and I have been to work under-dressed. So, I guess this time I was... I dunno. I enjoyed it, but it was short and unplanned and spur of the moment and I left with the boots on but only wearing full briefs beneath my clothes. I've done it now, though, so next time I shall wear tights and a bra and cami and maybe even take my new pencil skirt (I bought a pencil skirt).

And that's the story.

Oh, and on Friday I officially applied for a divorce. Tilly had scanned our marriage certificate and so I actually could.

Frankly I miss this image - it used to
practically be my signature.

Bullying

 The children were over, as usual, on Friday. My mother was due on Saturday. And, on the Friday night, we all had an early-ish night. I was asleep by about half ten. But the middlest was not. And he was winding himself up. He's been in a bit of tizz since Monday when we had a good night but he didn't want to play Pokemon and ended up sleeping in the following morning. I got him up but he was discombobulated and ended up having a mini-meltdown over being rushed to get ready and missing out on watching a video with me before I had to go to work on Monday. When he came back on Friday, despite the good evening, these feelings resurfaced.

But there was an additional feeling. He didn't want to wake me, as he feared I would be grumpy at being woken. So he texted Tilly, who was still awake. And then he worked himself up, texting her that he was "too scared" of me being "grumpy" and it got more and more heart-rending. Until Tilly tried to wake me, but I didn't hear the phone. Eventually the eldest came and woke me, handed me Tilly on the phone, and the middlest joined me in bed at midnight, and slept.

Come the morning the middlest went home early. When I went to pick him back up with the youngest, Tilly was waiting outside. She explained that this was the final example she needed to prove that I was emotionally abusive and dismissive. That I had to face up to how badly I had messed up the children and how dangerous I was and had been. She wasn't going to let me "ignore things" by being upset, I had to face up to the fact that I was manipulative, abusive, gaslighting and in need of serious therapy. My guilt was a defensive screen, a way of avoiding facing up to my problems. Tilly had done the therapy, and knew the difference between her anxieties and reality. I did not. And I was the problem.

She was happy wioth me looking after the children, but my gaslighting and emotional abuse was the reason for the toxicity that had ended our relationship. She had been talking with friends who pointed out that my vocabulary and style of writing in texts was manipulative, authoritarian and dismissive. I needed to get therapy, get fixed, and fast. She had an article on autistic gaslighting that she wanted me to read, it explained what my problem was. The first part she bade me ignore, it was a bit too extreme, but it would show me that I was gaslighting and abusive and she wanted me to face up to it rather than get all upset and then carry on as if nothing had happened.

The weekend thus ruined and all agreements off, I picked up the eldest from her dance class before Tilly brought the youngest two around and my mother arrived at the same time. I had forewarned my mother about what had been said. Tilly stuck around a bit then left, with the children all with me and my mother. My mother was also a bit off-balance by what had been said, and I was struggling (as one might, being told one is abusive and manipulative is a hard thing to hear). Tilly had even used the low-blow of comparing me to a bullying HoD that I have spoken about on here before - suggesting that I had analysed him as I have everyone else and learned how to be like him.

All of this followed a series of texts Tilly and I had exchanged in which she had demanded we change our financial arrangements to something far more complicated as the current method left her "vulnerable" as she was "dependent on my goodwill".

That night, Saturday, my mother and I compared notes. I showed her the text exchange. Now, my mother is biased, but she did not believe me to be manipulative. She did point out that me using Tilly's phrases back at her could have been seen to be manipulative but that, if it were, then Tilly had been manipulative first. Eventually, Tilly sent me this article. I'm not sure it said what she thought it did. The first half described how an Aspergic partner may deny the feelings his partner had were real and then would simply carry on as if the discussion hadn't happened, denying that anything had occurred. This was what Tilly had categorically told me we had never done. And we hadn't. The second half said that accidental or no, hurting someone still left that someone hurt. But that a guilty and remorseful Aspergic partner would defend the lack of intent to hurt - the trick was to respond with compassion and sympathy so that they could do the same for the hurt in return. And the article closed with the sentence "regardless, and this is important, without intent there can be no gaslighting". So... I can't be gaslighting? A brief text exchange and Tilly agreed that I had never dismissed her feelings, nor argued that they didn't count and nor had I suggested the discussions we had didn't happen - just that I didn't change enough afterward and would hurt her the same way in a different conversation.

So... not gaslighting or manipulating or abusive? Just bone-headed and incapable of change?

Oh, and the eldest reckoned the middlest's fear was that anyone being woken would be grumpy, but he knew Tilly was awake. He had told the eldest that he was worried about waking someone. Indeed, when he came in to me and I let him join me in bed, he had felt safe and happy. His biggest concern had been me not picking him after the discussion with Tilly - he was unaware of any fallout.

So... I don't know. I have written a formal financial agreement that Tilly is going to check with some free legal advice based on what we have already agreed. And my weekend has been not at all what I had planned. And I feel a bit awful. I think, think, that I am not abusive. But is that just what abusers tell themselves?

This is the End

Talked to Tilly over the last two days. I don't want to admit it but I think we're properly approaching the end. It's all the ASD. Tilly can't cope with it, and never has been able to. We're going to try and plan for an end, properly, over the weekend.

I feel awful. It confirms my suspicions long held that I am not romantically loveable. And that Tilly was only in this to have children.

She even said that she assumed we'd have a third child when she was 40. I pointed out that I would still have opposed and she said that she would have thought we'd have grown and so it wouldn't matter.

Basically, confirmation that my views have never been a part of her planning.

She's looking into Universal Credit to see if that can offset enough for me to rent something that the kids can visit me in. But right now she's out getting a parcel. The conversation has been amicable thus far, but upsetting.

Full disclosure, I started chastity again on Sunday. I don't know why. It just felt, physically, like my genitals needed to be in my device. I can't explain it, and it has been welcome.

Work has been hard. Very much so. Incredible pressure, just about weathered, and ongoing. Hence lack of record keeping.

And, for now, this is the end.

Try It

Not the first time I've used this title.

Odd week. Following the discussion on Wednesday and watching the Witcher I replayed a lot of what was said in my head - and on the Thursday evening I was wondering about the fact that Tilly said she didn't want to spend time together, that the hour of discussion she had been recommended by her therapist had been replaced with watching a TV show that she had explicitly said ahead of time she didn't want to discuss and analyse. Also the "of course" thing was weighing on me. In the midst of this, Stanislav, his mother died over Christmas, was in work. It was... hard. He got all high-handed and started to boss me about, which was... odd. I mean, I couldn't say anything, mother died etc, but it was irksome and, well, a bit rude. So, a hard day keeping my feelings in and trying to just weather it whilst being supportive and so forth. It's... quite hard.

Home. Tilly complains that I am being down and not smiling and happy. She snaps "I should have known that it would take more than one nice evening to make you less unhappy." Well, firstly, obviously. And, secondly, whenever I have assumed that we have turned a corner or had a nice time I am usually confronted with "it'll take more than one nice evening to make a difference!" So... I guess? Anyway, it was a frustrating evening. Why? The eldest had had a bit of a time of it - friendship issues - and Tilly explained to me how she had told her that everything was fine, but, privately, she knew it was down to the ASD and our daughter would have to mask better if she wanted to behave like others. But, again, that was doomed to fail and maybe she wouldn't actually have friends in the future. However, maybe she could be trained to be a bit less obviously ASD and that might allow her to have a few non-ASD friends. Hopefully this is obvious as to why I found it frustrating and difficult.

I spoke to the eldest, assured her that she had more friends than I did at her age (she does) and reminded her that the most important thing is being herself. She will make few, but deep, friendships. She will adapt, slowly, in ways that she wants to. And, when she does make changes, they will stick. NTs, I reminded her, can't do that as well as we can. Don't try and be like everyone else, they don't know what they're doing any more than you do, so just be you and, eventually, some people will appreciate that - they are your friends and they will stick around for life. The eldest seemed comforted, it was a big deal for me after the week. Anyway, all this hurt a bit. I had told Tilly that some ASD people managed to mask long enough to start a relationship and then fuck it up later. Tilly didn't really know how to respond and suggested that it was the wrong thing for me to have said - she needed to be reassured about our daughter, it wasn't about me. Anyway, that was before the snapping that I started with and likely the cause of it. Whatever. Eventually Tilly went to bed and I had some time alone. Then I went to bed late.

Friday happened. I revealed my plans to divorce to someone at work by accident. I suck at keeping things in. That book I ordered? I read it on Monday. How do I get somewhere where the children can stop over when visiting? Most of my free head-space on Friday was thinking that over. Once home, I raised the comment by Tilly to Tilly. She accepted that it was "an unhelpful thing to say" and that she was just frustrated that she couldn't seem to make things better. Hmm. Okay. I'm not buying that this time. She asked if I wanted to try her wine, the Christmas present I paid for that she has mostly had with friends before Christmas, and I agreed. We had a brief analysis of the Witcher which started abruptly and ended just as abruptly without warning. Nothing more of substance was said. She did some work and, when I went to bed, she was writing the shopping list in the dark. She briefly chatted about hard it was to write in the dark and how I might not be able to read the list in the morning. She then informed me that the eldest would have to get up early, when she would have to set her alarm, how long the youngest had been awake, how she preferred another wine from the crate, how many words she had to write before her deadlines (which were all given in detail) and whether or not her business partner would be able to do what she needed to do as well. Then she put down the shopping list and moved as far as possible in the bed from me. I did nothing more than make the 'right' noises when asked.

Today I dealt with the eldest again, last night I had been woken at 3am by a discussion between Tilly and the eldest regarding data use on the eldest's phone. I know, I know, 3am, what the actual fuck? Anyway, I had a chat and thought I'd got to the bottom of it. Eldest went upstairs and was confronted by a newly awake Tilly, who tried to start attacking and beating down as she does with the children. The eldest voluntarily gave what she had given me, Tilly discovered another lie and got a fuller confession. Yeah, I had been congratulating myself a bit, I deserved that. Tilly did try to say I had done a good thing, but I felt like I had solved nothing and protected the eldest from none of Tilly's ire. Into the bargain, I had been lied to again. I went shopping. Middlest didn't want to go out for lunch, so I got me some noodles and ate apart from everyone else, as normal, whilst finishing shopping. Did take the middlest to Ikea to get a mattress and have tea. Came home, Tilly got ready for bed and retired to do some work. I... have failed to do any work.

In other news, I have started smacking the youngest when he claws at me and draws blood. I'm not proud of myself, but this is a place for truth. Tilly does not know. I cannot talk to her about such things and do not dare try.

I can afford the necessary furniture to have the children stop over at a place I live, but how would I afford the space? I'd need about £450pcm for a flat + bills. Not sure I can find that sort of money. I can probably get £200 by not having a car on lease. Maybe £150 if I stop paying toward the children's savings. £35 from my father saying I can stop paying off his loan to help buy the house. That's... it. There's work to be done here.

Anyway, yes, that's the latest update.

Of course

When Tilly told her therapist about October, offering a ten minute quickie, the therapist was aghast, of course Tilly wasn't ready for that.

But it wasn't that which led to her screaming, that was because of my mean attack when she thought everything was fine.

Also, she had no examples of me being inappropriately analytical but the fact I asked was proof that I am. But how else can I get better and improve? Real people, normal people, don't think like that! This was evidence of the problem with me. My desire for precision is part of the issue, normal people understand one another and I don't understand her. She doesn't me either, but that's to be expected.

I raised that I was worried about how much of a dick I seemed to Tilly's therapist. She replied I rarely came up but the last session was about us, so I was kind of relevant. In any case, she probably came across badly when I was having therapy.

She offered to watch the Witcher together. I could hardly refuse. We watched it. I didn't talk about it afterwards apart from to say I enjoyed it. Not did she.

Of course she wasn't ready for that in October. Of course.

Funnily enough, I've not slept well, hence I woke thinking about this at 0326 and am now typing this at 0441.

Therapy

Tilly's therapist, who she saw tonight, told her the following:
1. We are not compatible, well, no, something about our personalities not being compatible at the moment. Tilly said this with a face that suggested it was insurmountable and probably related to divorce eventually.
2. Tilly not wanting to interact on an evening is perfectly normal for someone involved with family stuff all day. Especially with a young child. No word on the fact that she complained that I didn't first. Nor the fact that she claimed that it was my fault.
3. It sounds like me going on antidepressants is a good idea.
4. We could schedule an hour to talk. We each take half an hour and can't use "you". The other just listens, that would be a first step in starting to talk again.

Just now, a clarification, when Tilly said personalities, she meant that the relationship isn't working for either of us and it's not either of our fault, just our current personalities. I confess, I am none the wiser.

Rejection

Got a haircut yesterday. Tilly didn't notice let alone say anything. Made my own lunch. Tea was provided but only by dint of a recipe. Since Thursday it's been pretty lonely. Went to work on Friday, wasn't greeted home, hard day with the children.

Suspect that if Tilly met her friend for cake she came to the conclusion that the relationship is dead. That she should give up. Again. As usual, my own plans will be mistimed, out of sync. That's how my life goes.

Stanislav had his mother die on Boxing Day. That dominates work, as it should. Checked rents, can get a room for less than £400pcm. If I stop paying the children for savings at £150 a month I can afford that plus shopping. Just got to find a way to do the laundry and I'm there. Also, no more EV, would have to buy a second hand car outright. That could prove more troublesome. Still, can afford a separation if not a divorce.

Strangely, on Thursday, the eldest seemed to know that word and even suggested that it might be where I was going. Maybe not that strange. Tilly may be planning the same thing.

Rejection

Confirmation, if twere needed. Tilly out for cake with a friend, wearing a dress and perfume. She doesn't wear such things with me as they are impractical or difficult to arrange. When we had a meal for our anniversary, first time alone together since the birth of the youngest, she wore clothes she normally wears, right down to a nursing bra. We had to hurry, grand total of two hours out. She went out a couple of days before with her cousin dressed up and was out five hours.

This time it's three hours, but longer. Back by 1pm, set off at 10.30am. Dressed up.

I'm so fed up.

How have I put up with this for so long? Fairly certain that, if it was my fault, she wouldn't still be here. In any case, it's yet more rejection.

Moan moan moan

Away two days. Not bad. But problems at home where Tilly remained with two children. Home to screaming, aftermath and tired Tilly. Early to bed, no discussion beyond issues in kitchen. No time. Wake to middlest between us.

Pots done, plus drying up because no one does that but me. Take out remains strewn across kitchen. Stuff moved. Shopping done, no one else does it. Then out for new storage from IKEA. Alone, obviously.

Sleep on sofa, later night as consequence. Took both eldest to Pokémon because why not. Emotional labour aplenty. It's hard. We're back late, middlest straight into bed with Tilly and youngest. He snuggles with her more than I ever have. It's hard to see that. Hard to know. Hard, because her love for the children is unconditional, whereas her love for me is not that kind of love, not even in the same league.

Today, make the storage, do the pots, shop for last items. Make lunches, of course, it was harder yesterday when I didn't. Supporting eldest with Maths, polluted by years of poorly expressed help from Tilly, hard to remain calm. Then youngest screaming and me looking after him whilst calm eldest and Tilly go to spend eldest's voucher from Christmas. Not good enough, Tilly wants time alone in town at some point.

Hour of fucking moidering about tea, take out? Start making meals for children based on that. Actually looking forward to it, NYE and all that, but mid prep Tilly makes a sandwich, no, no take out. She'll throw a meal together without me. Angrily tells me she'll take tired youngest to bed soon. I make the meals for everyone else, gather food for me. And reflect.

She didn't notice my shaving before Christmas, didn't notice my hair being awful yesterday. She doesn't care. She never has. I ordered a book on divorce. Not if but when and how. It's not going to change. She's said as much, should have listened sooner, could have spared myself the pain and unhappiness of a third child. But I didn't.

Useless

We last discussed sexual activity sometime in October, we agreed that she might like a, in her words, "ten minute quickie" and i would be on standby. So it was that she asked on 21 October, with some urgency, but i was busy looking after the middlest and couldn't. Within the half hour she said i'd missed my opportunity. That day she had listed all the interests that she said i would never partake in, as a reason why our relationship was on the rocks. She threatened therapy - if she went she felt certain that she would be advised to end the relationship: is that what i wanted?

On the 22 October she asked if it was right that she was enjoying a children's TV programme with the eldest as much as she was. It was one of the programmes she had listed as me not being interested enough in, one of those that if i just watched it with her we might not be in such a bad position. Regrettably, i used it to raise the fact that i was not really allowed in to enjoy or find interesting. She ended up screaming at me about how mean i was, in front of the children initially, and then pushed me out of the way, screaming "get away from me!" to sit and weep in the utility room.

i comforted the children as best i could. Looked after the youngest. Eventually she returned and said we'd both been a little broken.

Since then, nothing. We are not allowed to discuss our relationship, it is off-limits while she, indeed, seeks therapy and counselling. She's been going, regularly, and i watch the children. She says it's going well, it's about why she goes to pieces whenever i have a cross word. Basically, it would appear that i am a bully. i mean, i don't recall the last cross word - the incident above was hardly me being cross, i was sad and upset, sure, but not cross. Doesn't matter - she likes to see me as cross and a bully. Remember the gaslighting discussion? i do: when i told her what it was she asked: "Oh, is that what you do with me?"

Anyway, yes. Been in chastity since 1 December, out for 'fun' on 19 December then back in. Why? i don't know. i had tried back in September and managed two days, again at the end of September and lasted eight. This is dangerous, i know, she's not interested in that sort of thing and would find it anger inducing on some level. You know what? i don't care why any more, it makes no sense to me.

Another thing Tilly keeps mentioning is the fact that "Autistics wouldn't know truth if it came and bit them in the face." It's become something of a mantra for her. Mainly when dealing with the eldest, who has developed a habit of sneaking sweets and cakes - she's banned from having sugar - and the lying that goes with it. i'm not sure here. The eldest struggles with sugar, it makes her have hangovers and makes her struggle to focus or make sense. i'm all for helping her have sugar but controlled amounts, the sneaking is due to the blanket ban coupled with the fact that Tilly doesn't like getting up in the morning (she can't sleep when the youngest is feeding or for hours after being woken by him) so there's no control downstairs. It's a ridiculous situation that Tilly attacks completely out of proportion because it's an issue of control.

So... what else? i'm depressed more than ever. Mother was down at the weekend for dropping off presents, it was... stormy. She means well, she wants to help, but i am so down i end up snapping. i talked about death, waiting for it, at least i wouldn't be bothered any more. i think that hurt. i didn't mean to hurt her. i mentioned possibly talking to Tilly, who responded that she would like just one holiday where she didn't feel like she did after such a conversation and so, no, we can't talk. There's no point. Another of her mantras.

i know it's over. It's just a case of finding out how it all ends now. And when.

Uselessly, i keep track. It's 42 months now.

Woah there

Okay, so my last entry comes out of nowhere and part of the raison d'etre of this blog is to record things so that I don't foget them and I've already started to forget.

After the 7 April entry Tilly and I had some more tribulations. It culminated in her explaining that being sexually incompatible wasn't an indication that we would never have sex again, by way of her getting angry that she needed to "put out" (her words) or face divorce (the incident ended with her declaring that divorce was the only option, only to later rescind it after about two hours of me providing childcare whilst she failed to shop and cried a lot). She agreed that we could try but, again, there was no promise of any particular resolution.

My online Holder, from the emlalock site and to do with my decision to try chastity, got back in touch. Within a couple of days I was back in chastity and in a session she started on emlalock. I have been warned before on here about online mistresses but I am a sucker. What is the attraction? A friend once asked me what the attraction was about chastity, and I have never really had a satisfactory answer. But I think I have a bit of one now: it's about feeling that someone else cares. Being locked alone is... well, it's nice and all, but I couldn't do it for very long. Having a Holder? Well, I managed 51 days the first time and the second just finished, around 48 days. The difference is having someone else care a bit about what I do. Okay, this second session was a little unsatisfying, after Easter my Holder sort of dropped out and apart from a short e-mail every six days or so I had no contact. The biggest deal was the week my family were away on holiday and I got to dress.

I was going to record that here, but didn't.

Upshot? I was dressed at home and did cleaning. I liked it. The end. I also got the usual despair and depression that accompanies these acts of freedom because no one else cares and it seems a bit silly on my own. It's that caring element that is the turn on. Not denying that dressing is fun, it is, and not saying I didn't dress, I did, just that... well, it seems empty without some form of interaction. The other other reason for me keeping a blog I guess.

My self-imposed femdom at work thing was also... interesting. It continues and my workmate continues to grow in teasing (at least, I think it's teasing? It may just be what being a friend to Her looks like, hard to tell) as well as just getting used to it. I like it, She likes it. But that is dangerous too and I accept that. Whatever else is going on I am still married, sort of, and I am still me. That precludes an affair on many levels, principally moral ones but also the practical ones of not really being attractive enough to carry anything out nor really be appealing to a woman in general, even one to whom I have decided to defer.

The second period of chastity ended this morning, I don't anticipate any further contact this time from my Holder.

Anyway, some extra hugs and even kisses on the lips from Tilly have been the context and the backdrop for my last entry. And, after that event, the following day, sometime around 1600 hrs Tilly finally offered some reassurance: "I don't think that will happen," she texted "I hope it doesn't." Not as a reassuring as I think she was assuming.

Since then? She bought me some chocolate with the slogan "I love you more than chocolate" on it, which was nice, and has encouraged me to go to bed at the same time as her a few times. Apart from one night where I fell asleep first she has either fallen asleep, typed work or looked at Facebook. She actually attempted a conversation last night but was on the cusp of sleep and failed to get very far.

And, well, that's it for now. I'm struggling, as always, and feeling very lonely on the edge of marking, like normal.

After Dinner Conversation

Well, that was revealing. I shared with Tilly my concern that I didn't want to hit 56 and find that my last sexual experience was in 2016. I said I didn't anticipate any particular response.

Eventually, like in half an hour, Tilly hugged me and thanked me for sharing my concern. Hers was that I would get bored with the lack of progress and leave. I accepted that I had said things to that effect, and pointed out that she'd told me if I wanted her to put out we may as well get divorced. Tilly got shirty, did I not remember the conversation that followed where we said we'd try? Also, she hadn't said that, she'd asked if that's what I wanted or did I want a divorce and I'd said divorce. Then we'd had a conversation.

We paused so I could unplug the car and gather things for school tomorrow.

On returning I said that was unlikely that I would leave,a if not just based on the grim logic of the situation. I eventually, in a couple of minutes, boiled it down to "don't be silly." Tilly then worked and went to sleep.

Fascinating. I feel like there's something missing.

The lie of the land

Not a proper entry, more a repository.

Tilly said I would probably prefer beer to an egg for Easter today, and I was off out to charge the car, I thought about it. No. I don't want anything from her. I told her this on my return. In a previous conversation I explained to Tilly how I am about hugs: they are romantic things and thus I don't hug people that aren't her. She has alleged that I have not been initiating hugs, she's been keeping track (a la my reports previously I note) but she has no idea when I was doing this - especially after I raised my chastity and my deliberate efforts to be more romantic and submissive within that. Of course she doesn't know, she hasn't been keeping track at all, she's reaching. My reasoning for this digression? I'm not sure about hugs now. Now I know that there is no hope, that we are sexually incompatible, I am not sure how to proceed.

On Thursday I researched divorce. It costs £550 to apply. I cannot cite my own behaviour, my Father has pointed out that my cross-dressing would count as unreasonable behaviour and would likely result in Tilly getting the house at least. I'm not sure he's wrong. If it were contested. I checked out counselling to deal with the end of the relationship, it costs £60 a pop - so like my therapy cost - I can't afford that or a divorce. Good to know I guess, it's not like it would change anything, I haven't worn my wedding ring for about three years, we haven't really been married for a long time. Tilly has made that clear over the years.

Saturday, Tilly told me she'd seen a romantic poem about growing old together that she felt summed us up, but she had lost it. She's reaching. I am unclear how one can believe that after all that has been said on the matter over the last fortnight. For reference, she has told me that no outsourcing can take place under this roof - there can be no looking at porn, masturbation, dressing, communication on kink etc under this roof. Naive. Of course I already am. It's my fucking house too. I didn't illuminate her - what she doesn't know won't hurt her (as she said, I disagree) - so I can add that I am a liar to the litany of counts against me. Also, her demands are a little unreasonable in my estimation, so fuck them.

I had an evening off on Friday - Tilly and the children were out until late in the nearby city for the eldest to practice for a national show and for the boys to troop around with Tilly. I watched The Lobster whilst they were out, had a beer, had some me time. Fuck 'em. I liked the film. Over the weekend I have done my best to be helpful around the house and look after the children. Bloody-mindedness, I have some of it. And now I am not working again. I don't care. Can't afford divorce so... death? I dunno. I have looked at rents - there are some apartments for around £400 pcm, if I could find a way of having a car for cheaper than I currently pay I could maybe afford that. I can live off a surprisingly small amount per week. Tilly would have to shop on a weekend. Maybe if I ditch the car? Depends on rail costs to get to work. Hmm.

Why has this taken me so long?