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. 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 "Story So Far" Page above this and the "New Readers" 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!

Sunday, 13 December 2020

Bullying

 The children were over, as usual, on Friday. My mother was due on Saturday. And, on the Friday night, we all had an early-ish night. I was asleep by about half ten. But the middlest was not. And he was winding himself up. He's been in a bit of tizz since Monday when we had a good night but he didn't want to play Pokemon and ended up sleeping in the following morning. I got him up but he was discombobulated and ended up having a mini-meltdown over being rushed to get ready and missing out on watching a video with me before I had to go to work on Monday. When he came back on Friday, despite the good evening, these feelings resurfaced.

But there was an additional feeling. He didn't want to wake me, as he feared I would be grumpy at being woken. So he texted Tilly, who was still awake. And then he worked himself up, texting her that he was "too scared" of me being "grumpy" and it got more and more heart-rending. Until Tilly tried to wake me, but I didn't hear the phone. Eventually the eldest came and woke me, handed me Tilly on the phone, and the middlest joined me in bed at midnight, and slept.

Come the morning the middlest went home early. When I went to pick him back up with the youngest, Tilly was waiting outside. She explained that this was the final example she needed to prove that I was emotionally abusive and dismissive. That I had to face up to how badly I had messed up the children and how dangerous I was and had been. She wasn't going to let me "ignore things" by being upset, I had to face up to the fact that I was manipulative, abusive, gaslighting and in need of serious therapy. My guilt was a defensive screen, a way of avoiding facing up to my problems. Tilly had done the therapy, and knew the difference between her anxieties and reality. I did not. And I was the problem.

She was happy wioth me looking after the children, but my gaslighting and emotional abuse was the reason for the toxicity that had ended our relationship. She had been talking with friends who pointed out that my vocabulary and style of writing in texts was manipulative, authoritarian and dismissive. I needed to get therapy, get fixed, and fast. She had an article on autistic gaslighting that she wanted me to read, it explained what my problem was. The first part she bade me ignore, it was a bit too extreme, but it would show me that I was gaslighting and abusive and she wanted me to face up to it rather than get all upset and then carry on as if nothing had happened.

The weekend thus ruined and all agreements off, I picked up the eldest from her dance class before Tilly brought the youngest two around and my mother arrived at the same time. I had forewarned my mother about what had been said. Tilly stuck around a bit then left, with the children all with me and my mother. My mother was also a bit off-balance by what had been said, and I was struggling (as one might, being told one is abusive and manipulative is a hard thing to hear). Tilly had even used the low-blow of comparing me to a bullying HoD that I have spoken about on here before - suggesting that I had analysed him as I have everyone else and learned how to be like him.

All of this followed a series of texts Tilly and I had exchanged in which she had demanded we change our financial arrangements to something far more complicated as the current method left her "vulnerable" as she was "dependent on my goodwill".

That night, Saturday, my mother and I compared notes. I showed her the text exchange. Now, my mother is biased, but she did not believe me to be manipulative. She did point out that me using Tilly's phrases back at her could have been seen to be manipulative but that, if it were, then Tilly had been manipulative first. Eventually, Tilly sent me this article. I'm not sure it said what she thought it did. The first half described how an Aspergic partner may deny the feelings his partner had were real and then would simply carry on as if the discussion hadn't happened, denying that anything had occurred. This was what Tilly had categorically told me we had never done. And we hadn't. The second half said that accidental or no, hurting someone still left that someone hurt. But that a guilty and remorseful Aspergic partner would defend the lack of intent to hurt - the trick was to respond with compassion and sympathy so that they could do the same for the hurt in return. And the article closed with the sentence "regardless, and this is important, without intent there can be no gaslighting". So... I can't be gaslighting? A brief text exchange and Tilly agreed that I had never dismissed her feelings, nor argued that they didn't count and nor had I suggested the discussions we had didn't happen - just that I didn't change enough afterward and would hurt her the same way in a different conversation.

So... not gaslighting or manipulating or abusive? Just bone-headed and incapable of change?

Oh, and the eldest reckoned the middlest's fear was that anyone being woken would be grumpy, but he knew Tilly was awake. He had told the eldest that he was worried about waking someone. Indeed, when he came in to me and I let him join me in bed, he had felt safe and happy. His biggest concern had been me not picking him after the discussion with Tilly - he was unaware of any fallout.

So... I don't know. I have written a formal financial agreement that Tilly is going to check with some free legal advice based on what we have already agreed. And my weekend has been not at all what I had planned. And I feel a bit awful. I think, think, that I am not abusive. But is that just what abusers tell themselves?

Thursday, 10 December 2020

What have I learned?

What can I say?

Just shy of a month in to my new reality and feeling... bereft.

What have I learned?

In the first week I learned that I could read at night again, get everything done in plenty of time and get to work earlier than I had managed since 2010. I read The Boy in the Dress and realised just how much I had yearned for a similar plotline as a child. And how shallow Walliams was as a person and how strangely empty of emotion he seems to be on his own past. It's odd, but I found the characters to be callous and without depth. His dedication suggests he was talking of real events, if so: there's no meat to the character's bones and the setting is, at best, unclear in time., Fascinating, yes, but not totally for the right reasons.

I learned that I could look after my children alone, but I knew that. And I learned that I missed cooking.

Second week: I learned that I missed my relationship from before 2011. I missed the joys of things, I missed music most of all. I was listening to CDs as I worked, digging through old tracks and getting work done. I was pootling on the internet. I was able to dress more. I wore tights and knickers to work, because why not. I shaved my legs and pubic hair, because I wanted to. I hadn't dared do that since August 2005 and I only did that once for fear of being exposed at school. I'm older now, no chance of being exposed. No one, but no one, is interested in me for my body or for romantic entanglements, so why not. I tried a smaller chastity ring for a day. Ditched it.

Week three was more of that. I managed four days in chastity with a larger ring, but became depressed. And so I stopped dressing again and chastity. I was very sad, very lonely.

In all of the weeks, I realised that I wasn't missing how things were. Tilly is the happiest and most stable I have ever seen her. Me moving out has been the greatest gift I think I have ever managed to give to her. There have been provocations, sure, I don't think she like sme being outsdie of her control. The youngest is the most cut up, he wants to stay over but Tilly does not want that. She has compromised to allow me to see the children as we do, how much have I moved? She'd love to know, because she feels I'm getting everything I want.

And I am struggling.

That's it.

Sunday, 18 October 2020

That wasn't the End

 We bimbled along, as we always do, Tilly did not look into Universal Credit. She cried, we hugged, she said she'd try. She hoped we'd get physical.

Then there was the Lockdown. I volunteered at work, did the shopping, was the contact with the outside world. Came home each time to more and more fractious family life. But we did it. We work well in a crisis, and despite everything things were looking up by April. By May and June I dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, Tilly was trying and that she would love me as I still did her.

Summer. She went to her parents, I did not. We all went to see my mother. My mother pointed out that Tilly did not spend any time with me the entire time we were there. But she did, just with the children in tow. See, I wanted to believe.

I stopped chastity at the end of August, rash was devleoping, seemed a good time to pause. Tilly hadn't even noticed. Of course she hadn't, why would she?

I went back to work - we're fully open at school - and it went well at first. Then, at the end of September, I came home to the usual torrent of information and a couple of insults. They were new. I argued back. She went mental. You know the score by now, you could probably sing along. But, this time, I was bored of the bullshit.

The bimbling was done. I looked at rental places. Tilly actually looked up Universal Credit. That was just over three weeks ago. I might have a house to buy if everything goes according to plan. I think I have a place to rent in the meantime. In two weeks I should have moved out. By February I should own my own house. It's happening.

February 2020 wasn't the end. It should have been.

October 2018 wasn't the end. It should have been.

December 2017 wasn't the end. It should have been.

August 2016 wasn't the end. It should have been.

July 2015 wasn't the end. It should have been.

January 2014 wasn't the end. It should have been.

March 2013 wasn't the end. It should have been.

December 2011 wasn't the end. It should have been.

August 2009 wasn't the end. It should have been.

May 2007 wasn't the end. It should have been.

December 2006 wasn't the end. It should have been.

But October 2020? It is the end. 14 wasted years. 3 children. 2 houses. 4 jobs. All for naught. A waste. I hope my children can forgive me for that wasted time. They are pretty chipper, given what's happening, keen to help me move into a new place, keen to visit. Sad that I am going. Youngest is the most emotional, in that he cannot really cope with it and just gets angry when he is confronted with the fact that I am going. He's fine with the theory, poor with the practice. I've done a lot of crying in the car.

Tilly had the happiest birthday she's had in... well, probably since I've known her. No, that's unfair. Her birthday in 2006 was happy for her. Maybe 2007 and 2009 too. 2011 was a good one, but not as happy as 2006, and I know that she had a good one in 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018 and 2019 - the latter three because she went out with friends while I babysat. Heh, in 2016 we watched a film together at the cinema. One of only two times we've been out without children since we moved in 2013. But... yes, this birthday ranks up there with the 2006 one.

She's taking the children down to see her parents over half term. Well, I'm driving them down and back, but staying in the house. Because... they have more fun when I'm not there. So many holidays without me, it's hardly a big deal. Now she can have more and not feel guilty.

Saturday, 8 February 2020

This is the End

Talked to Tilly over the last two days. I don't want to admit it but I think we're properly approaching the end. It's all the ASD. Tilly can't cope with it, and never has been able to. We're going to try and plan for an end, properly, over the weekend.

I feel awful. It confirms my suspicions long held that I am not romantically loveable. And that Tilly was only in this to have children.

She even said that she assumed we'd have a third child when she was 40. I pointed out that I would still have opposed and she said that she would have thought we'd have grown and so it wouldn't matter.

Basically, confirmation that my views have never been a part of her planning.

She's looking into Universal Credit to see if that can offset enough for me to rent something that the kids can visit me in. But right now she's out getting a parcel. The conversation has been amicable thus far, but upsetting.

Full disclosure, I started chastity again on Sunday. I don't know why. It just felt, physically, like my genitals needed to be in my device. I can't explain it, and it has been welcome.

Work has been hard. Very much so. Incredible pressure, just about weathered, and ongoing. Hence lack of record keeping.

And, for now, this is the end.

Sunday, 12 January 2020

New Year Listings

It's 2020!

In my youth I assumed we'd have hover cars and they would float four inches off the ground. (Why four inches? Why not?) Beyond that, I kinda knew I would turn 40.

So, what of the year ahead? I don't have resolutions so much, as is normal, but I am attempting to take positive control. Re-reading my early entries on this blog brought two affirmations:
1. I am remarkably consistent in my aims and what I am attempting to do.
2. I was a bit of a thief early on?

Also, I have some deleted entries that I think I shall be adding back in, with commentary from my new perspective some eight years on, which will be interesting for me. Maybe not for everyone else.

So, resolutions:
1. I shall have a viable exit strategy by July. I need to check if I can draw down on my mortgage enough to buy a property. There are a couple of three-bedroomed properties up for about £75k, for example, which would be cheaper than renting. Madness, I know. That would allow me to have the children, viable! Huh.
2. I'll break my 130 days in chastity record. Maybe not contiguously. But I shall try. Not looking good at the moment, but selfish enjoyment ahoy!
3. I shall actually keep up with my marking this year.

That seems like quite enough to be getting on with right now. I also know I need to actually start looking into the dating game, see if I can actually, well, be honest about myself and whether that will bear fruit. In short, is it viable to be me and have the hope of a fulfilling relationship? Eh, the most important point here is to get a place where the children can stop over and where I can, well, have some space to be me. Not doing the pots every morning (well, not as many certainly) and having less shopping to do will free up a huge amount of time and space. Hell, not living in as cluttered a space will be significantly helpful. It would be like those weeks in September 2013 all over again. I could actually look forward to that, you know.

Saturday, 11 January 2020

Try It

Not the first time I've used this title.

Odd week. Following the discussion on Wednesday and watching the Witcher I replayed a lot of what was said in my head - and on the Thursday evening I was wondering about the fact that Tilly said she didn't want to spend time together, that the hour of discussion she had been recommended by her therapist had been replaced with watching a TV show that she had explicitly said ahead of time she didn't want to discuss and analyse. Also the "of course" thing was weighing on me. In the midst of this, Stanislav, his mother died over Christmas, was in work. It was... hard. He got all high-handed and started to boss me about, which was... odd. I mean, I couldn't say anything, mother died etc, but it was irksome and, well, a bit rude. So, a hard day keeping my feelings in and trying to just weather it whilst being supportive and so forth. It's... quite hard.

Home. Tilly complains that I am being down and not smiling and happy. She snaps "I should have known that it would take more than one nice evening to make you less unhappy." Well, firstly, obviously. And, secondly, whenever I have assumed that we have turned a corner or had a nice time I am usually confronted with "it'll take more than one nice evening to make a difference!" So... I guess? Anyway, it was a frustrating evening. Why? The eldest had had a bit of a time of it - friendship issues - and Tilly explained to me how she had told her that everything was fine, but, privately, she knew it was down to the ASD and our daughter would have to mask better if she wanted to behave like others. But, again, that was doomed to fail and maybe she wouldn't actually have friends in the future. However, maybe she could be trained to be a bit less obviously ASD and that might allow her to have a few non-ASD friends. Hopefully this is obvious as to why I found it frustrating and difficult.

I spoke to the eldest, assured her that she had more friends than I did at her age (she does) and reminded her that the most important thing is being herself. She will make few, but deep, friendships. She will adapt, slowly, in ways that she wants to. And, when she does make changes, they will stick. NTs, I reminded her, can't do that as well as we can. Don't try and be like everyone else, they don't know what they're doing any more than you do, so just be you and, eventually, some people will appreciate that - they are your friends and they will stick around for life. The eldest seemed comforted, it was a big deal for me after the week. Anyway, all this hurt a bit. I had told Tilly that some ASD people managed to mask long enough to start a relationship and then fuck it up later. Tilly didn't really know how to respond and suggested that it was the wrong thing for me to have said - she needed to be reassured about our daughter, it wasn't about me. Anyway, that was before the snapping that I started with and likely the cause of it. Whatever. Eventually Tilly went to bed and I had some time alone. Then I went to bed late.

Friday happened. I revealed my plans to divorce to someone at work by accident. I suck at keeping things in. That book I ordered? I read it on Monday. How do I get somewhere where the children can stop over when visiting? Most of my free head-space on Friday was thinking that over. Once home, I raised the comment by Tilly to Tilly. She accepted that it was "an unhelpful thing to say" and that she was just frustrated that she couldn't seem to make things better. Hmm. Okay. I'm not buying that this time. She asked if I wanted to try her wine, the Christmas present I paid for that she has mostly had with friends before Christmas, and I agreed. We had a brief analysis of the Witcher which started abruptly and ended just as abruptly without warning. Nothing more of substance was said. She did some work and, when I went to bed, she was writing the shopping list in the dark. She briefly chatted about hard it was to write in the dark and how I might not be able to read the list in the morning. She then informed me that the eldest would have to get up early, when she would have to set her alarm, how long the youngest had been awake, how she preferred another wine from the crate, how many words she had to write before her deadlines (which were all given in detail) and whether or not her business partner would be able to do what she needed to do as well. Then she put down the shopping list and moved as far as possible in the bed from me. I did nothing more than make the 'right' noises when asked.

Today I dealt with the eldest again, last night I had been woken at 3am by a discussion between Tilly and the eldest regarding data use on the eldest's phone. I know, I know, 3am, what the actual fuck? Anyway, I had a chat and thought I'd got to the bottom of it. Eldest went upstairs and was confronted by a newly awake Tilly, who tried to start attacking and beating down as she does with the children. The eldest voluntarily gave what she had given me, Tilly discovered another lie and got a fuller confession. Yeah, I had been congratulating myself a bit, I deserved that. Tilly did try to say I had done a good thing, but I felt like I had solved nothing and protected the eldest from none of Tilly's ire. Into the bargain, I had been lied to again. I went shopping. Middlest didn't want to go out for lunch, so I got me some noodles and ate apart from everyone else, as normal, whilst finishing shopping. Did take the middlest to Ikea to get a mattress and have tea. Came home, Tilly got ready for bed and retired to do some work. I... have failed to do any work.

In other news, I have started smacking the youngest when he claws at me and draws blood. I'm not proud of myself, but this is a place for truth. Tilly does not know. I cannot talk to her about such things and do not dare try.

I can afford the necessary furniture to have the children stop over at a place I live, but how would I afford the space? I'd need about £450pcm for a flat + bills. Not sure I can find that sort of money. I can probably get £200 by not having a car on lease. Maybe £150 if I stop paying toward the children's savings. £35 from my father saying I can stop paying off his loan to help buy the house. That's... it. There's work to be done here.

Anyway, yes, that's the latest update.

Wednesday, 8 January 2020

Of course

When Tilly told her therapist about October, offering a ten minute quickie, the therapist was aghast, of course Tilly wasn't ready for that.

But it wasn't that which led to her screaming, that was because of my mean attack when she thought everything was fine.

Also, she had no examples of me being inappropriately analytical but the fact I asked was proof that I am. But how else can I get better and improve? Real people, normal people, don't think like that! This was evidence of the problem with me. My desire for precision is part of the issue, normal people understand one another and I don't understand her. She doesn't me either, but that's to be expected.

I raised that I was worried about how much of a dick I seemed to Tilly's therapist. She replied I rarely came up but the last session was about us, so I was kind of relevant. In any case, she probably came across badly when I was having therapy.

She offered to watch the Witcher together. I could hardly refuse. We watched it. I didn't talk about it afterwards apart from to say I enjoyed it. Not did she.

Of course she wasn't ready for that in October. Of course.

Funnily enough, I've not slept well, hence I woke thinking about this at 0326 and am now typing this at 0441.

Tuesday, 7 January 2020

Therapy

Tilly's therapist, who she saw tonight, told her the following:
1. We are not compatible, well, no, something about our personalities not being compatible at the moment. Tilly said this with a face that suggested it was insurmountable and probably related to divorce eventually.
2. Tilly not wanting to interact on an evening is perfectly normal for someone involved with family stuff all day. Especially with a young child. No word on the fact that she complained that I didn't first. Nor the fact that she claimed that it was my fault.
3. It sounds like me going on antidepressants is a good idea.
4. We could schedule an hour to talk. We each take half an hour and can't use "you". The other just listens, that would be a first step in starting to talk again.

Just now, a clarification, when Tilly said personalities, she meant that the relationship isn't working for either of us and it's not either of our fault, just our current personalities. I confess, I am none the wiser.

Saturday, 4 January 2020

Rejection

Got a haircut yesterday. Tilly didn't notice let alone say anything. Made my own lunch. Tea was provided but only by dint of a recipe. Since Thursday it's been pretty lonely. Went to work on Friday, wasn't greeted home, hard day with the children.

Suspect that if Tilly met her friend for cake she came to the conclusion that the relationship is dead. That she should give up. Again. As usual, my own plans will be mistimed, out of sync. That's how my life goes.

Stanislav had his mother die on Boxing Day. That dominates work, as it should. Checked rents, can get a room for less than £400pcm. If I stop paying the children for savings at £150 a month I can afford that plus shopping. Just got to find a way to do the laundry and I'm there. Also, no more EV, would have to buy a second hand car outright. That could prove more troublesome. Still, can afford a separation if not a divorce.

Strangely, on Thursday, the eldest seemed to know that word and even suggested that it might be where I was going. Maybe not that strange. Tilly may be planning the same thing.

Thursday, 2 January 2020

Rejection

Confirmation, if twere needed. Tilly out for cake with a friend, wearing a dress and perfume. She doesn't wear such things with me as they are impractical or difficult to arrange. When we had a meal for our anniversary, first time alone together since the birth of the youngest, she wore clothes she normally wears, right down to a nursing bra. We had to hurry, grand total of two hours out. She went out a couple of days before with her cousin dressed up and was out five hours.

This time it's three hours, but longer. Back by 1pm, set off at 10.30am. Dressed up.

I'm so fed up.

How have I put up with this for so long? Fairly certain that, if it was my fault, she wouldn't still be here. In any case, it's yet more rejection.