Phlebotomist

Today I had the second of my endocrinologist instructed blood tests.

The test was at 8:30am but the surgery does open until 8:30am, so I began to get a little twitchy.

On the dot surgery opened, I checked in, a few minutes later the nurse called me into the surgery.

“do you have the form the endochronologist gave you?” She asked.

“Fuckityfuckfuck. Sorry” I said apologising both of the swearing and forgetting the form.

The hospital records are not immediately available to the doctor’s surgery without some poking around. It was just as well that I was able to find the exact date of the appointment in my diary.

I hate blood tests!

Just because a fellow has tattoos up and down his arm doesn’t mean that they are comfortable with needles.

The nursing services suite and it doesn’t take long.

I do have to drop the form in this morning, so I’m going to have to sneak out between meetings to do so.

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Counselling

This is the last counselling in my flat.

I was tired from two days worth of back to back meetings and calls. Sometimes I can do that sort of thing, but I always find meetings and calls draining – especially with people I don’t know that well. There has been no time to decompress and it shows in my mood.

My first blog entry

I read my blog post from the 4th November to my counsellor. I’m going to write in more detail about that post another time, but there were a few revelations in there:

1. My husband had suggested that I was Asperger’s or autistic around that time.
2. That I only started making online friends after I came out to my husband about wanting to be a eunuch and having these Dark Fantasies.

These are both fascinating in view of later events. My husband was angry that I had referred to him saying that he thought I was ASD in my doctor’s referral. He also felt that I’d betrayed him by talking to others before talking to him – the chronology suggests otherwise.

Thinking of husband’s neuro-divergence

It does seem that my husband is slowly coming around to my own neuro-divergence since a mental health professional suggested that he might also be.

He’s said, when I’d initially shared the document I sent to the doctor, that he could relate to many of the things about myself that I’d included as signs of my autism.

How it seems that he’s thinking that perhaps both he and I are.

This hope that this will make things much easier.

I said to Rich that, when I eventually get to be formally assessed, I will say to my husband that since we altered his we communicate to work around my ASD, if I should be found as not qualifying as ASD by the professional, that we should continue using whatever tools we have been using because they work. That’s a long way of though.

My happiest times

Rich (my counsellor) asked what my happiest time in the flat was.

I thought about it. Counselling comes pretty high up the list!

It’s all the learning I’ve done: I have learnt more about myself in the last three months that I learnt in all the thirty years since I came out as gay!

I have enjoyed the silence, when I’ve needed it. I’ve enjoyed being able to chat online to friends without feeling like I’m being judged for it.

I enjoyed just being and utterly relaxing in my own space.

Taking about my relationship

We don’t actually know for whom we are decorating the house.

It’s it for us? Will we be living there?

My husband has already said that he is drawn to the ideas of two separate flats. If we decide to do that, then we are just painting the walls white.

We don’t need to decide for a few weeks (we have window frames to strip, skirting to paint, walls to fill, etc), and even when we do decide, we can (up to a certain point) change our minds.

If we decide that we are leaving, we won’t want to start marketing the house until early spring. Which means that the earliest we could move it might even be this time next year.

I don’t fancy a year of being in limbo; but that’s not a good enough reason to not move.

However, it does have to be a joint decision if we stay.

If we decide to sell, we could move to a different part of the south coast.

Laughter

I don’t remember laughing as much with a therapist as I do with Rich!

I don’t feel confused when he laughs either! Sometimes when people laugh at something I’ve said I feel a little nonplussed by their reaction.

Tonight I said if my husband “now he knows what is like living with a crazy person!”

Rich thought it might be something I could say to him – I don’t know how he’d react though.

On the other hand, I never know how he’d going to feel about something until I’ve said it.

I wish that I felt safer being unfiltered around my husband. Perhaps it would help to say to him “I need to try these words out; I won’t know whether they are true or this I feel about them until I say them”. Sometimes I feel trapped into a position that I don’t really believe in because my words are taken as true, when they immediately don’t feel right once I’ve spoken them out loud.

Unfiltered

I commented how much I love being unfiltered, but I do have to be careful – thinking of my accidentally inappropriate comments at work about rugby players.

It’s fun and it’s much less work to say whatever is in my mind – as long as it’s not cruel or hurtful.

I said that I was always guarded around my dad – but that’s sad much because I can’t get a word in edgeways!

I hate being filtered 

Home trial

I’ve decided that I’m going to trial saying Rich at the housev for for weeks.

I’m going to buy a rug, so that we can sit on the floor in front of the fire and talk.

When we are done, I’ll go up to the bedroom trip think, write, and decompress.

My lovely husband has offered to go out while Rich is here to make this possible.

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Packing up

Tonight I packed up the last of my things from my little safe haven.

Originally, it was a place of exile as I was banished from the home.

It became my sanctuary and I shall miss it.