Last night was hell. Name calling and shouting continued for a while. I eventually went to bed early, but couldn’t sleep. I tried some hypnosis, but comfy settle because my heart was racing too much – I suppose the stress hormone was too strong to overcome that way. Strangely, my husband came up to bed (he’s need sleeping on the sofa), so I got up and watched a couple of episodes of Absolutely Fabulous and drank some hot milk with a dash of nutmeg (a prescription of Dr Beverly Crusher from Star Trek the Next Gen). I did manage to get to sleep in bed sheet that.
I woke up about 6am with a boner. I think they are getting softer, but it was still pleasant. I’m not allowed play with it for at least another 8 days; if my T isn’t sorted within that time, I mightn’t get to play with it even then!
I found the shoe laces in my dressing gown pocket that I used to tie my balls up with most nights. I stared at them for a while before rolling them up and putting them in the drawer. There was no emotion attached to them at all. I thought I’d feel something about them, perhaps I expected to feel a sense of loss that I could no longer play that way. Thing is that play had long gone from play to self-harm. So maybe I’d feel something else? Perhaps I might have felt embarrassed or shame that I used to self-harm? Not at all. Maybe there was some sadness for the person who used to feel so badly about himself that he tried to express this feelings of inadequacy within his life and unhappiness with his body by trying to kill a part of himself.
It is getting easier to wash around the scar. The numb/sore feeling is slowly receding. I can’t touch the scar for long (nor would I want to as I need to minimise infection risk), but I can now easily run my finger along it to rub in the lavender smelling scar ointment. It sort of tickles to touch, but the feeling is a bit intense and still a bit too close to sore to be enjoyable. I realised that the lint has two sides; is used the rougher side yesterday, so I’m trying the softer side today. I’ve made a much neater dressing: I’m getting quite good at it now! Last night the dressing started to feel uncomfortable, so I removed it and slept just in my compression pants. I don’t think I’ll need the dressings on for much longer.
The stitches themselves feel a little bit sore today.
I’m starting to write a letter to my best friend down in New Zealand, so I’m reading through my blog posts. I’ve just read my hopes that the separation from my husband would encourage his independence and our trust in each other. Oh dear. That went well, didn’t it?
Husband seems to be out of the worst of it now. It goes like that, one day he’s in a really bad way and I’m actually scared of what he might do, then it passes. He’s shaky and fragile now. I make us some coffee; he asked if I’d like to talk about anything. Once upon a time I might have done, but that would end up really kicking him while he’s down. We do need to talk, but I need a rest anyway – he’s talked (and shouted) for 6 days in a row. But he is himself again now.
He then announced that the parcel on the table was a valentine’s present for me! So I went and got the presents I’d got for him and he gave me his card and another present – beautiful and well thought of gifts from him, and a card that made me laugh out loud. My gifts to him were largely traditional (sexy undies and chocolates).
After, we went up for a cuddle and a lie down. I let him see things for the first time. He was ok, which was the best that I could hope for I suppose. While we cuddled, I had stirrings, which was nice, although not the usual quality; I imagine that’s due to low testosterone. It was nice to show him something though.
My husband couldn’t settle, so he got up and I stayed there for a bit longer.
An hour and a half later him woke me to tell me that he was going to get a drink, that he was “done” with life, has no fight left, and wants to end it. I have no idea what to do now. I’ve come to the Chinese takeaway because it’s the only thing I can think to do is what I’d normally do on a Saturday evening.
I am exhausted both emotionally and physically. I am at my wits end.
Eunuchorn 
Leave a comment