Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Tuesday, 6 January 2015

Back to Work

Contemplating the future, reflecting on the

I would happily wear this if I thought I could get away with it
in a professional setting.
I was worried about the pile of work that I had built up, and it is huge, but so far so good and I'm getting through it. New shoes, though clownish in their length and painful generally, are not causing inability to walk. New brown suit is comfortable. I've even managed to read more of my book on the latest archaeology around Stonehenge, which is making me happy. Colleagues are all okay, though my newb remains very slippery and worse than me at organisation. She's very like me, she hides the chaos with a veneer of organisation, beneath the exterior it's roiling insanity, worry, self-deprecation and confusion. And I spot this because I share the trait. But she is much, much worse than I am. This is going to take a while to sort out in a way that won't inadvertantly make things worse for her whilst maintaining the level of professionalism that I want from my Department.

Huh, it's my actual suit jacket. Not my shirt
or tie though.

See, it doesn't look too bad.
Children coping moderately well with me going back to work, and the first night had me there until quite late. Today was a late one too, arriving back as they were being read to in bed by Tilly. Tilly has started working on her book in earnest. Two nights in a row now she's disappeared to do laptop (newly bought with advance money) stuff. Yesterday she was in the living room, I was in the dining room, writing with her writing partner, tidying up blog posts, announcing her deal publicly for the first time and researching the beginning of her book. Until midnight. Tonight she retired to the spare room and wrote solidly from 7.30pm to 10pm. She's now in the bedroom reading research.

No greeting home. No physical intimacy. But don't break out the violins just yet, I was late back on Monday (7pm) and today (6.30pm) - the children go to bed at 7pm and start bedtime routines around 6.30pm (today they started earlier) - so I'm quite firmly locking myself out of the family routine at the moment.

I briefly saw her in the morning yesterday, in which she warned me not to check on the children lest I wake them, as she was reading research in bed (6am to 7am then further sleep). She did the same this morning, but I was later setting off, so I caught her barely awake at around 7.30am. I set off at 6.30am on Monday, for reference.

This is a good enough representation of Tilly working.
I respect the fact that she has a book deadline, I do. But, once again, I appear to come well behind that, her writing, the children and that continues to hurt a bit. She's still pretty ill too, she tried to hoover today and has ended up with increased pain in her lower back. Her glasses are also rubbing her ears and leaving nasty marks again. She keeps getting them adjusted only for a child to knock them and throw them off again within a day or two. Or I do it. Not recently, I've stopped trying to kiss her again.

I should be happier for her than I am, I know this. I don't want to be that guy, you know, the one that decries the success of the women in his life because of how it reflects on him. The one that makes every narrative about the male at the centre of the ego-centric view of the world. I don't. And I therefore need to allow Tilly the space she carves out of her full life being primary carer for our children and household to do things for her. And that means I don't come into it, I get that, it's temporary. And yet... Coming so soon after the period since the birth of our daughter and the associated disconnect on so many levels... Coming so soon after the magazine, the parenting group, the enforced organisation to move, tyhe sleeping on the sofa, the depression (both of us), the drought after moving and now an illness that prevents any kind of close physical contact... In short, continuing an increasingly gloomy relationship situation that has lasted since late 2007, this temporary effect, likely to last until October, is bloody annoying. And doesn't feel so temporary.

I wonder what will replace it in October?

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All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!