I was so tired today, which made the counselling session much harder because my brain was stuck in neutral.

Of course, I started with a recap as a lot had happened since my last session – my husband having a date for picking up the keys for one!

Richard noticed that I often start by saying what my husband thinks or feels. “That’s all very good, but let’s put that box over here!” He’d say and then push the question back to me.

Once I started thinking about how I felt, I realised that I was feeling more than a little irritable and angry with my husband: for the first time ever he is having to read legal documents, arrange for utilities and services, and setup direct debits – and now he’s having meltdowns because they are stressful.

I have always done this for us without any comment or complaint – I suppose that I am just feeling unappreciated!

Richard said that was an understandable feeling. I just hope that owning the feeling enables me to put it to one side because I am emotionally burnt out and I do not want to add to the stress and anxiety for either of us!

From there, I jumped to dysphoria. “I thought I was done with those feelings, although these don’t feel quite the same as I felt about my testicles, they are less intense, but they do seem to be worse when I’m stressed and they are scary,” I explained.

It was good to speak it out loud and voice my fears, both about it’s reappearance and what my husband would say – when I first talked about castration, he’d voiced a fear that I’d want something else chopped off later.

“Let’s put that in the box over here,” said Richard, meaning that I shouldn’t be taking my husband’s feelings into account around this; “how do you feel about it?” he asked.

“Excited, scared,” I replied, my heart fluttering and pulse quickening.

I talked a bit about the excitement and fear that I felt. Realising that both lived in the future and that I couldn’t do anything about it for some time, but also that I am a (over) thinker, I’m unlikely to do anything like that on impulse. He said that he trusted that I would analyse and think about it much more and if a decision was ever to be made, that it would be the right one.

I talked a bit about the positive experiences of Cicero (a eunuch friend) and a number of nullos that I know – feeling comfortable in their own body was sexually liberating and seemed to result in more sex as a result!

Richard was curious about nullification and asked about orgasms. This was fun. Genuine but not lurid curiosity.

As a gay man, he knows about the legend of anal orgasm (I’ve never cum from penetration, but I have had the most incredible full body experiences).

The skin around the cock and balls is incredibly sensitive, but there are also options to bury the glans during nullification to keep a super-erotic area.

“At least you wouldn’t have any clean up from being nullo,” he said.

Then I explained about the actual makeup of cum – most of it is fluid from various glands. My old cum was thick, like lumpy custard, but my new cum is runnier, but not much less in volume. It tastes sweeter. Castration removed the sperm from the mix, and the external testosterone keeps the other glands producing their various fluids that constitute semen – except mine cannot be called “semen” because it contains no seed!

“So there’s still cleanup of you’re a nullo!” I said.

He also asked about peeing, so a brief explanation about urethral reroutes so that the pee-hole is lower down.

It was an emotional, yet also entertaining, counselling session.

I felt heard and emotionally held by Richard – and validated, which wasn’t something I’d expected to feel – nor realised that I needed.

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On the way home from the session, I picked up some fish and chips. I’d messaged my husband to confirm that was what he still wanted and got a strange reply back: “if that’s what you’d like to do”, to which I replied that we could get pizza or something else if he preferred. “Let’s just stick with the plan of fish 🐟 & 🍟” was the response. The emojis stopped it from feeling terse.

All night there was a funny atmosphere – I do not know why that is – perhaps it’s just the strain on us both of immanent separation.