Originally published 26th November 2023
Today I woke up and felt there was something missing. Sadly, I still had my balls. The use of the adverb “sadly” is important, I think. What was missing was the sense of urgency. I’d grown used, over the last several months, to having the strongest urge to sort myself out. This morning I woke up and that urge wasn’t there. In in its place I feel incredibly low. I don’t understand my feelings.
My husband and I have been talking about all kinds of things; the mess our relationship has become and my need to be castrated. These have been difficult conversations for both of us, and at times quite painful – especially for him.
I am used to feelings being strong or weaker over time. Over the years they have been mostly been very mild, over the last few years they have increased in intensity, and over the last several months I have been quite prepared and ready to band my balls to death. I have assembled a little kit to achieve this. Only last week, while my husband was in in his bipolar dark place the feelings we so intense that I was literally begging the doctor for some help. Normally, his bipolar depressions last at their lowest for as long as three weeks. I was expecting the 1st (his 60th birthday)( to have been exactly half way through the depression. I was planning to execute Plan E (the banding plan) and by this time next Sunday to have been feeling quite satisfied (if I was still alive) that I have achieved my objective.
In some respects, I feel disappointed that he’s recovered. Don’t get me wrong, I do not want him to be unhappy and in pain, I feel so helpless when he’s in those places when I see and hear his misery. I am disappointed that what I was not able to do what I’d planned to do. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling low?
That doesn’t explain why I don’t have the same sense of urgency. I still have the desire, but I don’t feel that I am going to take matters into my own hand today. Clearly, at least some of the urgency comes from stressors in my life.
I also wonder whether the sense of urgency is lifted because we have been talking and we seem to be on the same page regarding my options. Plan A (NHS) is not likely to go anywhere. Plan B – I have heard back from a private hospital saying “no”, although I am not clear whether that is just that hospital or generally, Plan D (using a cutter) I don’t even know how to initiate that, so it can’t go anywhere. And Plan E, of course, is banding my balls to death.
What we both seem to agree on is that the only option is Plan B – Mexico! I have noticed with the urgency that it is lessened or controlled when I have a plan or a target. I could hold of banding myself (knowing that it would require a hospital admission) because I didn’t want to spoil my husband’s birthday; even while he was ill I had to hold off “just in case” (and he’s recovering, so he will have a birthday). I think that the urgency has lessened because I have the beginnings of an executable plan. In my own head (and I’ve yet to discuss this with hubby), when my friend the Archmagus returns and reports on his operation, then (and hopefully before December is out), I plan to start making arrangements with Dr Aguilar. That’s what I think is the reason for the decline in urgency.
I am afraid that I might be chickening out. There is a saying “be careful what you wish for: you might just get it!”. I used to be really into motorbikes. I really, really wanted a GSXR600 sports bike. I had wanted one for as long as I’d been into bikes, and after about 15 years wishing and waiting, I finally got one. It was beautiful, elegant, sounded fabulous, and an enormous disappointment. It just didn’t suit me. I never felt in control of it, and one night after an argument, I went out on it and sped around the motorways around Bristol seeing whether I could bury the needle. Once I’d burnt that out of my system, I started home. I was tired and I wasn’t concentrating, I fell off and broke the crank case. Repairing the bike cost as much as the bike had originally. In the end, I sold the bike and that was my last motorbike. Sometimes I do miss motorbikes though, and whilst the last bike was a nightmare, I don’t’ regret having it. So that’s lesson 1.
However, there is also lesson 2. I’d played with the idea of a bungee jump. The idea terrifies me but also excites me. I had previously booked a bungee jump, it got cancelled three times, so I abandoned the idea figuring that somebody was trying to tell me something. This year, hubby and I went trekking in Nepal. At the end of the holiday we had a free day, so I suggested the world’s longest zip slide. Hubby would have preferred the bungee, I had a niggle in my mind that I would like to try it as well. After the zip (which was a bit of an anti-climax), I was buzzing – I had seen the bungee tower as we sped down the wire, so I said “shall we?”. Hubby said “let’s have a coffee and think about it.”. Of course, over the coffee the adrenaline had worn off a bit, but I still wanted to go ahead. We were harnessed up and walked up the gantry. All the while my eagerness to jump slowly died and blind terror set in. At the top I did not want to jump I was that scared. The little bungee guy promised I would be OK and that he was there. I would not have done it if the little bugger hadn’t have pushed me! Funny thing is, the terror ended the moment I was off the gantry, instead it was joy and curiosity. I loved it! Would I do it again? Abso-bloody-lutely! Would I have to be pushed again? Almost certainly! So lesson 2 for me is don’t let your fears stop you – it’s the things I don’t do that I’m most likely to regret.
So, this is where I think I am. I still want to be castrated, but I am not in immediate danger of self-harm.
As I’m writing this now, I am feeling much better, but I’ll save that for another time – this is a long enough post as it is!
Eunuchorn 
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