It’s 3am. I can’t sleep. I tried to stay close to the house without going into it as much today. My husband remains in a bad way. If I stay around too much then he gets aggressive, shouting, and name calling. It often starts out OK, but sooner or later it gets nasty; the usual thing he’ll say is “can I talk to you for as minute?”, sometimes he’ll add “it’s nothing heavy”, luring me in. I had three false starts cooking tea, where I had to leave the house to defuse the situation. This evening my husband called an ambulance for himself; this is a major development, and possibly a break-through, because he has never been good at reaching out for help. I stayed in the car (which is where I was when they arrived). They were with him a couple of hours. They would leave him whenever he started smoking. At one point he went into the garden and fell in the pond; he could have knocked himself out and drowned. I got a towel and some fresh clothes for him, he became aware that I was in the house and started swearing and shouting. The paramedic calmed him down. I gave them his medication to give him. They then took me into the ambulance for an update. He’d refused to go to A&E (I wouldn’t expect him to go), so the only thing they could do was make a referral to the crisis team. They couldn’t do anything more because that judged that he wasn’t in immediate danger to himself. They said they wanted to raise a safe-guarding issue for me, since I was afraid to stay in the house and I’d just had surgery. I agreed to it, but said that once he’d gone to sleep, I could probably sneak up to bed. I would have to go into the office tomorrow because he wouldn’t let me work at home. After they left, I slept in the car for about an hour and a half before creeping into the house.

I’m still awake, too wound up to sleep. The alarm due to go off at 06:30. I’ll shower and dress before going down for breakfast and coffee.

I’ve tried about 40 minutes of hypnosis.

Normally, I might go downstairs and have a mug of hot milk and nutmeg and watch something light on the tellybox, but husband is on the sofa downstairs.

Then I started wondering “if a guy with no balls is a eunuch, and a guy with nothing at all is a nullo, what’s a guy with no penis but with balls called? And what about a guy with a vagina?” (I know of a guy with a vagina). Such are the kind of thoughts troubling my sleep

My head is racing, but with nothing useful. I have a piano cover of “Swan Lake” by a fellow called Montechait, running around my head:

I’ve also been designing a Louisiana style house for some river valley in England. Working out all the rooms, where the stairs are, and how the plumbing will work. I have just decided that the house should be able to float when the river floods.

… and clearly I’m still awake because I’m here writing notes for my blog.

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It’s now 04:20. I can hear him downstairs. The sound of a metal cap unscrewing travels very well in the silence of the night.

I was just thinking that sometimes in the past when I couldn’t sleep, I might try “knocking one out”. I can’t do that right now: 1) I’m not allowed to for another week, 2) even if I was allowed to, I don’t think it’s working at the moment.

I am also hungry, which is why I guess that insomniacs put on weight.

I’m finally sleeping trying to sleep completely naked (except for socks, which I wear only when I’m in bed on my own because I can’t sleep if my feet are cold – and they are never cold if my husband is in bed with me). My scar is a little sore (so I think I will wear a dressing tomorrow). I’m feeling comfortable in my current body configuration; it is soooo nice not being tormented by my balls, feeling them crawl about and twitching … but I felt an itch, which I went to scratch … only to put my hand into fresh air! That was a nice suprise! That’s not to say that I’m feeling all loose and light and free down there yet, there is still quite a bit of swelling that makes things feel heavier and more bulky. I expect it will feel quite spacious once the swelling has really subsided … but what I have is much better feeling than ever before.

When I took my underwear off, I had a bit of a sniff. I’ve always liked the smell of my own underwear (I prefer somebody else’s though). Not a niff! I knew that the smell of my own ball-sack would be something I’d miss! It’s the only thing about my balls that I actually liked. I’m just going to have to steal my husband’s undies after we’ve had a busy day.

Of course, at 06:30 when my alarm goes off, I am actually asleep. I think I may be allowed to used the word ironic here.

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Today is my first day at the office as a eunuch, and it’s also my first day wearing jeans. So far, I’ve worn loose shorts or jogging bottoms – anything soft and gentle. I was nervous about wearing jeans, so I have put a dressing on today. I really notice the difference in jeans! So much roomier! It’s quite a nice feeling – and makes me aware that there’s something “missing” down there. I think that, for the first time, I am something different to “normal”. I am aware of the physical difference of my castration. My reluctant testosterone-deprived cock tingles a little in the excitement of this discovery.

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Random observation: I thought the dog might be trouble around my scar and would constantly sniff my crotch wondering why I smell different – I had thought, with declining or castrate level testosterone, that I would smell different to her. Nope! So far she’s ignored it. As far as she is concerned I’m just “daddy who feeds me” or “daddy who walks me”, which I guess is nice!

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This afternoon I got a phonecall from the police. The safe-guarding that the ambulance people had recorded about me was being followed up because my husband had grabbed my crotch, was verbally abusive, and I was recovering from surgery while sleeping in the back of a car. It is amazing that it is being followed up and taken so seriously, and I am grateful, but the timing sucks: the police officer wanted to come round and talk to my husband about it tonight. I had to really push back because police involvement runs the risk of retriggering him and prolonging this episode. The officer eventually compromised, after discussing with her superior, and said that she would follow up in about a week’s time, but if there was any trouble that I should call the police. She also gave me her email address so that I could send her updates.

Many years ago, my husband had a major episode that resulted in hospitalisation for a few months. He was discharged without a plan and before he was ready and prepared. He had a meltdown as soon as he got home. I called the crisis team, they called the police. The police arrested him and he spent the night in a cell. As far as he’s concerned, I let them arrest him. I’d expected him to be readmitted to hospital. The police discharged him back home, where things continued for a little while before the episode eventually broke. However, that episode with the police also traumatised him, so I do not want them involved again. From what the nice police lady said, I may not have any power to stop them.

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Home from work; husband is asleep on the floor with the duvet wrapped around him. I’ve made up his meds and wondering what I can do this evening that will keep the peace.

And that’s the way it stayed all evening.

So I went upstairs and did a bit of piano practice.

Then I thought “nullos with preserved sensitivity have the glans buried just beneath the skin and stimulate that to cum. My glans isn’t buried. I wonder…? It’s not as though I’m losing my virginity of I use my own hand now, am I?”.

So with some lube, I gave the kit a bit of a test drive … this is a public blog, so I won’t go into much detail, but the equipment appears to function better than the previous model. I cannot wait to try it out on full testosterone!

So, I wasn’t supposed to try it out for at least another week … I’ve been a very naughty boy! 😈