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!

Monday, 29 August 2016

Discussion Points

We did go to Conkers where they have a barefoot walk and
I actually did it!

Did I ever mention that I like going barefoot?
There have been lots of thoughts. First of all: it is now clear (if it wasn't already abundantly obvious) that both of my children are on the spectrum. The Girlie, though it was perhaps shielded a little, is most definitely Aspergic and, quelle suprise, so am I. Now, bear in mind, none of this is official. Yet. But it is rather clear that these things are pretty much able to be taken as truths from here on in. No more wandering around that point and musing on it - I'm pretty confident that I have a big aspie family.

This is largely, I feel, the result of my genes and this probably comes from my mother. That doesn't mean much, but it's a chain of causation.

Okay, she has shoes on, but let's face it: that's the ideal
right there.
This has repercussions for the central theme of this here blog about my feelings, and my children's likely feelings, on gender being something that is hard to define. It's why I am mostly happy with the concept of gender being fluid and individual. Because, as far as I know, it is. There is the physical sex, true enough, and that may not tally with what's going on elsewhere in the brain chemistry or the psychology. And I am fine with that, in case that wasn't obvious either. It brings to mind an article that a friend of mine shared quite a while back now, on which they were asking for discussion - discussion that I feel is necessary. Certainly this article (link here) brought many things that I think I think already to the fore and made them plain. It is why I am glad that there are people out there who can write so that I'm not left flopping on the shore of basic thought like some fish left behind by retreating tides.

And this has very much been my teaching desk. Right
down to the abandoned food receptacles piling up in my
professional space.

I tidied it in the first few weeks of the holidays. And my
room. We have desks in the office too. It was quite the
revelation.
What else? It was a frenetically busy year that has just been, my academia-focus knows no bounds, even in my dating systems, and it's only recently that I've had time to fill out and just... well, be. We moved the Girlie into the bigger room quite recently, which took much huffing and puffing, and has resulted (for the moment, at least) with my 'dressing' wardrobe in a less accessible position. But, then, I haven't been dressing much lately anyway. Indeed, not since the last post on here in, what, June? The bout of depression, and that is what it was, that started about this time last year seems to have finally lifted - in that I can no longer imagine what it was like living under it, so that seems like a good sign. Now all I have to do is do some actual work to prepare for the new school year and I'm dandy. To that end I spent £65 on a pair of shoes for work today. This from someone who had spent £40 last year and thought that excessive - and then suffered because the shoes were slightly the wrong size and squeaked when I walked for the whole dang year. I'm looking forward to some comfortable brown shoes, the right brown mind you, that won't squeak when I walk. We'll see.

Needless to say, I bloody loved it.

I even ended up dancing to Go West which is one of my least
favourite tracks (due to it being over-played). It works better
live I think.
I went to see the Pet Shop Boys at the Opera House in Covent Garden with my father, that was a good night, and even got to sample some ales. Though my father remained his usual self - apparently he hated the last time we saw the Pet Shop Boys live at the Proms, which was something I did not know. Also, he wanted to know how I chose the ales I wished to try, my answer that I simply went with what I liked the look of was not well received. He's planning to retire, more at is wife's suggestion than his own idea, and worried about what he will be if and when he does. My father has been a workaholic for as long as I've known him but his present worries about identity are, again, more like his wife than him. I'm not sure that bodes well for him, if I'm honest.

Beer for illustrative purposes
We've also had a new fireplace put in. Tilly's writing work has taken off, she now is a freelance writer for reals. So we can save for a wood-burning stove and we've had a fireplace put in. It looks rather spiffy, actually, and is quite exciting. And yes, we seem to be getting on as a couple and things are mostly fine since the last post. Whatever that means I don't know, but things are better than they have been and certainly beyond the nadir of the events leading up to this time last year. She even bought me flowers for our anniversary so no complaints from me. I've been drinking rather a lot of ale and reviewing it, hence leaving this place fallow for so long, and now I seem to be getting back on an even keel on the internets.

So much so that I'm back posting on here and that can't be a bad thing, right? All that is mostly good stuff and augurs better for the coming year than I think I can report at any other time toward the end of August (no, I'm not going to check).

So, that's it for this entry and I look forward to getting back in touch with people, I feel like I've been away too long.

Not a curtsey becasuse, fuck yeah, this
is summer!





One final point, there's something about barbeques. Despite everything and largely because I am super-bad at being assertive the inevitable has occurred. Now, I know that at least one person who knows me IRL will read this and they may not wish for the weight of what is to follow because it's not official yet so I'm giving them time to quit this entry now.
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Yeah, so... we have been enjoying carnal relations... No, wait, I put that in the present continuing tense and that's wrong. We had been enjoying carnal relations again and, well, Tilly was attempting to use the timing method because she really doesn't seem to like me using condoms. I know, I know, I should have used them anyway and I ought to look into getting a vasectomy (but part of me doesn't want one, however I am the one who has the bigger stake in it I guess). Anyway, yes, I got talked into (read: grabbed at the relevant moment and gave in) not wearing one on a few occasions. And, yes, that has meant that Tilly is now pregnant. She's had an 8 week scan and there's a viable something in there with a heartbeat. I had mooted the potential of an abortion - but being pro-choice means leaving it as, well, a choice. Tilly has chosen not to. Her body, her rules.

I am angry on one level about this, of course I am, I have made it very clear that I do not want a third child. Tilly's idea that this isn't what she wants either as she didn't want one now is valid but, I think, not quite the same as my response to events as I didn't want a child at all. Which, to me, is a position significantly different to not wanting one yet. However, that's where we are. At first I was trying to work out if I was married to a liar or an idiot but that wasn't fair. The only real blame I can lay, the only real responsibility I can answer for, is not putting on the bloody condom. Twice. So anger at Tilly is misplaced. At the moment the whole thing is too surreal to wrap my head around. We've just moved our eldest into a bigger room, the resultant spare room is Tilly's office for her freelance writing work. Where's a third child going to go once we've finished co-sleeping?

How do I tell my parents? How do we tell the children? Girlie being Aspergic makes this doubly hard as she has a thing about babies (they make her feel "squishy") and insists that they are her best friends and vice versa - think Elmyra in the Animaniacs but less violent. Equally the Boy has recently had his head split open (he ran into a wooden beam at head height in a park) and is already getting possessive of our bed. It's... well, it's a minefield is what. Then there's the ramifications for work - the last two children resulted in me losing focus at work, not working as hard or as much (and I've stayed not working as much at my current place) and that's not good historically. The three years of Hell followed the Boy's birth and the two years previously were marred by the birth of our eldest, resulting in the switch that led to the three years of Hell.

2 comments:

  1. Nice to have you back, Joanna.

    Leslie

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's good to be back, thank you. Good to hear from you too, I hope all is well.

      Joanna
      x

      Delete

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