Optimism

There is at least something humorous in realizing that optimism is still the basic human condition. You can read a blog for almost a year, a blog full of despair and regret and confusion, and at the first sign of light, you can be full of I-told-you-so's and I-knew-it-would-work-out's. It seems everyone does want Hollywood to be right. Everyone thinks that real life can and should be happily ever after.

It's not, you know. I can make breakthroughs (whether or not I really have is a separate issue), and that still doesn't suddenly make things more likely to work out well. In the course of having issues, I have created issues. Solving one set doesn't work like a magic wand, magically making everything better. Let's say that my issues with sex with my husband are that I was traumatized by my first experience and the normal, but severe, pain of a first time. Let's say I come to terms with that and I'm willing to work through that. Does that erase many months of making issues about intimacy? For that matter, does that erase the issues with intimacy that have arisen as a result of saying no to intimacy for so long? It doesn't. The issues with intimacy are in addition to the issues with sex, however they were first created. And also - my willingness to experiment with my own discomfort does not suddenly make my husband feel more kindly toward my many months of withholding. And of course, the fact remains that the willingness is transitory, and that the days when I'm willing are not necessarily going to coincide with the days when sex will work out. Maybe it's during niddah. Maybe my husband's out that night. So it's entirely possible that he'll never find out that I have been at times more willing to try something new.

History never goes away, and it's not always possible to change the future. Sorry to be a downer, but such is life.

Breaking Dawn

Either my current therapist is better than all her predecessors or
I've finally reached the breakthrough point in my maturing process,
but for the first time, I feel like I'm making some progress that may
stick. Progress in being more honest with myself, which isn't the same
as progress in my marriage, but I'll take what I can get. The one
constant through all the epiphanies and self-discovery is that I can't
seem to hold on to a solid enjoyment of my husband's company, but I'm
doing better on appreciating his good qualities, and I think I'm even
doing better on applying consistent standards. I'm trying really hard
to make sure that I think rationally about the things that annoy me
before reacting. It's tough, but I think I may even be making progress
there. I'm definitely doing better at getting over my bad moods when
they're precipitated by something disproportionate. So all of this is
really good in that I'm growing up. I seem to have finally caught up
with the fact that I'm not a teenager anymore, even if I do still
enjoy the occasional teen pop book. But on my latest business trip, I
discovered that I no longer find the Disney Channel tempting. This has
to be a positive step. And my latest TV crush is a guy in his early
30's, which is certainly age-appropriate. At least my problem can't be
immaturity anymore. If it ever was. I always thought the problem was
that I was too set in my ways and not flexible enough, but I guess
that's not really the same as maturity. More just a factor of time.
The other thing that's changed a bit recently is that I've stopped
refusing to enjoy myself. I've been afraid to invest too much of
myself in new relationships, particularly with members of my extended
in-law family, in case things go south. More southward than they are
already. But it turns out that these are really fun people, and they
live more in the moment, and it's just fun to hang out with them and
loosen up. And I've always enjoyed being around people more on the
wild side, so I can be less uptight than my normal self without
feeling like I'm compromising my dignity. People who are willing to
make fools of themselves - or don't realize that they're doing so -
are just fun to be around. Of course, enjoying my in-law family is
only going to make a decision to split up harder, but I have to stop
letting things like that prevent me from living now. Maybe if I could
live more in the now, the future would start to look up.
So the moral of the story is that things could be worse. I could have
a vampire out for my blood. Yum.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Patriotism

One of the things I'm struggling with is the balance between security and freedom. There are things that I'm reasonably sure of: that I want a family, that I want to belong to something greater than myself, that I don't want to grow old alone. I want that traditional nuclear family, a husband and children. Yes, I know there are aspects of that dream that are hard for me to adjust to, but I want the security of knowing that there are some people out there who will be there for me when I need them. And that there are people for whom I am responsible, who will call on me when they need something. This isn't a purely selfish "who will take care of me" wish - for right now, at least, I am capable of taking care of myself - it is the desire to belong to something bigger. I want to be a part of life, of other people's lives. I don't want to spend my whole life as a bystander watching other people's lives; I want to be involved. While I'm already part of a nuclear family - the one I was born into - that family is going to outgrow me; it already has started. My siblings have gone off and started their own families, and my parents will want to move on to the next phase of their lives. And recently, with the loss of certain family members, I'm faced with the mortality of people I love. So reasonable security that I will have a family means children. And I wouldn't want to raise children in a broken home, or to break up their home even once they're raised. I can see why it can be necessary, but it's certainly not Plan A. Also, it would destroy some of the security, since breaking a home means splitting the priorities of the people in it.

On the other hand, I'm a bright, energetic (at least I was), fun, successful young woman in my twenties, and I want to play the field. I want to keep my options open. I want to explore. I want freedom. Unfortunately, that's not such a great thing in a marriage, especially a marriage that I want to be secure. A marriage is a commitment, and exploring makes commitment hard.

There are two things that I can see that could tip the balance. One is desperation. Perhaps that's unfair; what I mean is that the desire for security can overwhelm everything else if a person is suddenly (or not-so-suddenly) faced with issues that they can't handle on their own. This could be as simple as getting rid of all the sweet, well-meaning old aunties who keep saying, "Nebach, couldn't you find anyone willing to marry you?" - you can't do that without getting married, and that requires a partner. Or it could be lack of health insurance. Or it could be loneliness. It could be just the realization that this is the best it's ever going to get for you. It could range anywhere from seemingly idiotic to obviously tragic; as long as it's important to you and you can't deal with it alone, you can value security to the exclusion of all other considerations. There are plenty of people who marry for company or for money or for all sorts of "practical" reasons. And there's nothing wrong with that, provided that you go in with your eyes open.

The second thing that could tip the balance is contentment. You can be ready to give up your freedom because you're happy with what you have. You don't feel the need to keep exploring. I was at that point with religion prior to my marriage: I was frum not because I was ignorant of other options but because I was happy with my beliefs. I believed what I believed, and I didn't feel the need to explore. I was proud of who I was and where I came from. I still am, which is why I can't just throw out everything and think that'll fix my life. But I don't have that same contentment with my marriage: I don't feel that I have what I want and I want what I have. I want to explore; I want to see if there is something better out there for me. I'm not convinced that there is, so I'm still shaky on giving up the security of what is, but there's a(n ir)rational side of me that says this can't be the best life I can look forward to. There has to be a way to be happy, to willingly set aside the freedom, instead of just doing my duty.

Current

There are so many posts composed in my head, but due to my insomnia (I blame everything on that; isn't it convenient?), I can never remember all the things I intended to write when I'm actually writing. Some more thoughts on fixing problems, then.

Today's web poll results in amNY (so yesterday's question): 60% of respondents say that sex therapy works. Fascinating, especially in light of the discussion in the comments on my last post. 60% is pretty high, right?

Anyhow. Fixing problems. The fix depends on the solution that you want, and that means it depends on priorities. And, as we've already established, right now I have lots of conflicting priorities. I want freedom; I want to explore myself; I want material gratification. I want to be happy. And at the same time, believing, as I do, in G-d and the afterlife, I want to do the right thing according to the creed I've been raised to believe. And I feel that there must be some way I can have it all, but I can't quite figure out how. I've always thought rumspringa was a fascinating idea; I wish it existed in Judaism. But of course - and I believe this - if this life is but a hallway to the next world, there is no time for experimenting with fleeting pleasures. We're supposed to use every minute to prepare for the "real" world. I know what it's like to prepare for a trip. Of course, there's only limited preparation required for most of the things I do in this world, so I have time to laze around on the couch reading a book. But I would almost always finish my preparations (or, at a minimum, calculate the necessary time to finish my preparations) before taking time for leisure. And we know that there is no limit to the preparations for the ultimate din v'cheshbon, so how can we take the time out to do frivilous things? I guess part of the problem is that I don't have a clear idea of olum habah, so it's hard to justify non-stop preparations, especially when they seem to conflict so totally with my happiness in this world, the only one I know.

This was all so much easier before I started having to think of physical pleasure as necessary. It's so much easier to reconcile mental enjoyment with spirituality. Physical pleasure is not just a necessity for physical pleasure; it's sort of necessary for me to fulfill a spiritual requirement. This is no way to start a family.

Filthy

I've been talking so much about money lately. This is too expensive / I can't afford that / I resent paying for x / Is y really worth it?

I never used to think about money so much. It's only money. I know, I know, everything that happens in the world is either about sex or money. But funnily enough, neither of those was ever my motivator till now. How the mighty have fallen. Now all I think about is sex and money. And while sex is definitely on my list of possible causes for my marital problems - my complete lack of lust can't be normal- I didn't want to write about sex today. Today is about filthy lucre.

I don't think money is the root of my marital problems, but I do think it's a clear symptom of what's wrong. I'm looking at every penny because I don't think what I'm doing is worth investing in. Not money, not energy, not my youth. But then again, as I remembered in the shower last night, I am living exactly the life I always wanted. So why am I so upset? And what makes me think that getting out will improve things? How could it, if I'm going to be moving down even in my own eyes?

I don't mind being fiscally independent. I don't mind paying bills. I recognize that life costs money. I know that I sometimes make expensive choices. Many of those choices are things I wouldn't change without a better reason than expense. My preferences for living in the city rather than the suburbs, for example. But many of them are "norms" that really should be reconsidered in light of other things. For example, I don't think it makes sense to eat meat five times a week. Actually, my objections are for health reasons, but people understand so much more quickly if I say, "I can't afford it". Same with turning out lights when you leave the room or go to sleep. I think it's wasteful, and I'm a bit of an environmentalist. But also - and more understandably to my audience - it costs money. And therapy? Frankly, I can't afford it. I'm doing it anyway, on the chance it'll help me not ruin my life - that is an investment worth making - but I'm not convinced it'll help. But that's not a good reason to resist therapy, so I tell my husband that I'm resisting because it's too expensive. Of course, that's not a good reason either, and we both know that, but whatever.

So I've become a tightwad, at least in my husband's eyes. And in my own, since I've started noticing how often I cite expense as a reason to do or not do something. Just one more unfortunate side effect of the whole situation. I really don't like being the person I'm becoming.

Vision

I am aware that I put too much weight on other people's opinions. I'm trying to get a better hold on what I want and use that as my sole decision-making criterion, but the habits of trusting the advice of those who should know better than me and of trying to win peer approval are strong. I don't know why I don't trust my own opinion more fully; I am confident of my knowledge and reasoning abilities, etc. I guess I always feel like I am missing a crucial piece of information, and I hope that someone else is able to see what I can't. Especially when other people have such a completely different view of something from my view - I feel like I must be missing something. It doesn't mean that I would change my opinion, but I want to at least know what I'm missing. Just in case I should change my opinion.

Obviously, one of the reasons I can't bring myself to take the step of getting divorced is the social censure I would incur. Over the yamim noraim, it was brought home to me clearly that there are lots of people who care deeply about every detail of my life. There's no way I could slip something like this by all those bystanders, and it would hurt them. But more - it would hurt me, because every time I would see anyone who knows me, I would see hurt and disappointment. I would have to go through the whole thing again, at least for a while, even if only to again justify in my own head why I did what I did.

But another reason I can't bring myself to get divorced and move on with my life is that my husband so clearly doesn't want to. What does he see that I don't? He is suffering just as much as I am, albiet in a different way. But this can't be easier on him than on me. And even though he keeps telling me recently that he's given up hope of things improving, he's still holding on. He told me he still loves me. No, I couldn't say "I love you, too". It would solve a lot of problems if I could.

I don't know what I want for the future. If I think about the afterlife, as I know I'm supposed to, then a frum house full of children seems the right way to go. The problem is that even knowing that, I still want to do all sorts of things that I know are bad for my soul. Is that just a salve for the pain, or have I really degraded spiritually to the point that I don't care? And do I care? But if I can't see a vision of my future, how can I make any decisions? Is my marriage a failure because I never dreamed of marriage - or even a wedding - as a little girl? Is the only way to make something happen to visualize it? That is so science fiction I might just believe it.

Under/Over

It's like riding a merry-go-round. That's the moshol someone gave me yesterday, and it works so perfectly. The horse goes up and down at regular intervals between a set high and low point. The horse travels on a path, but somehow always ends up back where it started. You feel like you're getting somewhere, but you're really just travelling the same path you've been on the whole time. I feel like that quite a bit.

I'm back to wondering if I should try the medication just for the sake of trying it. Happy pills can only be fun, right? I should take my opportunity to try some rabbinically approved recreational drug use.

Fast

I did go see a psychiatrist, who recommended therapy as far more important than medication, although she didn't rule out medication as something that might be helpful. To me, that pretty much means that I don't need medication: a psychiatrist almost by definition has to recommend medication, so the fact that she was pareve on it seems to me to mean that it's not really something she thinks is all that necessary. Of course, she might have simply been one of those good doctors who listens to a patient's concerns with treatment and tries to accommodate an irrational dislike of medication if it's possible to do so. I'll probably never know.

Anyhow, on her recommendation, I went to see yet another psychologist; this time, a non-frum person. While I don't doubt his qualifications as a therapist, it seemed to me I spent too much time explaining background that I take for granted, and that didn't seem like a good use of therapy time. It might be good for me to go to someone who knows nothing, because then I get to present my feelings and my viewpoints on frum society, but that won't help solve my problem. I don't think I'm psychopathic or antisocial or anything like that; I think I'm a functional person who doesn't quite like the mainstream frum requirements. Thus, it would take someone who understands the mainstream frum world and then can also understand my perspective on it to help me figure out where, why, and how I differ from the crowd. I'm a product of a system - one that failed me, but a successful system in general - and I don't have the koach any more to try to explain that system. Also, on my first visit, I mentioned that I have been down the therapy path a few times already and that for this to be worth anything to me, I need a solid game plan. After the agreed trial sessions, there was still no game plan; there was only the suggestion that a trained ear to provide feedback might be useful. And I agree that it probably would be, but frankly, I can't afford to pay for it. Therapy is costing me almost the equivalent of rent, and my money might be better spent by just renting a second apartment and moving out of the one I currently share. Of course, if I just get a divorce, I could have my own apartment without paying for two.

Rosh Hashana is a time for reflection and renewal. I don't think I did that great of a job davening this year, so I'm trying to make my Aseres Yimai Teshuva count for something. I'm not even sure what I can do that will be properly meaningful, but I'm going to try. There's all the regular "only Pas Yisroel" chumros that we take on for a week, but then there are the more personal things. I was going to take on davening shacharis at home (instead of on the train, which I started doing a couple of weeks ago, up from maybe davening brachos), but I already missed that one this morning. No TV at work? But is TV really worse than reading novels? And am I going to totally give up my novels for the week? Maybe. The no TV kick is already difficult, and it's only the first day. The morning of the first day. Or maybe I'm just hungry.

I can't help but think that my problem is just that I made a mistake, and all these expensive solutions are trying to find a way to deny reality. But then I think about the system that works for so many people, whereby you really can marry just about anyone, and provided you're both good people, you can grow into a workable marriage. Is it just that I didn't give it enough of a chance, so of course it's going to implode? But then what about bashert? If I could make it work with anyone, then why bother trying to find the "right" one?

I find that talking to my mother is generally more helpful than talking to a random shrink; she knows me well and understands how I got to where I am. Also, she has a lot of characteristics in common with me. It was her idea that got me thinking about my sexual inhibitions - she said that people who define themselves by their minds (which I do) often have trouble connecting to their physical sides. This makes sense to me - particularly to connect with both sides within the same relationship. I made my marital choice using my head; it makes sense that it is hard for me to be physically uninhibited within that relationship. I can see myself as a passionate person, even as a person who'd be willing to try all sorts of kinky physical things, but I don't think I could do those things and then wake up next to that person and be the responsible, intelligent adult. I want to be the intelligent adult more than I want to be loose and uninhibited, so I picked a person with whom I can share the mental side of myself - but even more - with whom I don't want to get physical. I don't want to share the other side of myself with him; I'm not attracted to him, and I don't think he would know how to give me pleasure. I don't really know how myself, and I've been female all my life, whereas he has no experience with women whatsoever. Also, I don't think he'd be at all comfortable with anything even slightly deviant from the norm, and I know (because we discussed it in previous incarnations of therapy) that he's incapable of taking a dominant role. And if I have to be the breadwinner, the balancer of the books, the housekeeper, the decision maker, and all those other things, how am I supposed to feel feminine ever if even in bed my husband takes the submissive role? Not that there are any roles in my bed, because that wouldn't be yeshivish.

Futile

I'm losing hope of any chance for a positive resolution. Granted, I've been in this mindset before, and I've somehow bounded upwards, but I'm back to hopeless. Hopeless, and more guilt-ridden. This Shabbos I read in People Speak that semi-famous story about the wife who finally gave up on her dead-end, ne'er-do-well husband, after many years and five children. The husband remarried soon after, and he grew and flourished into a successful and confident man in his second marriage. To paraphase, she says something like, "The whole time I was married, I thought I was trapped by my husband's lack of potential. So how come he improved so greatly when he was free of me, and I didn't improve?" I'm terrified of that becoming me. And yet, I don't see how I can break the situation - I don't think I could be the second wife, under whose care and admiration the young man flourished. The key, according to that story, was that the first wife had high expectations that her husband could never seem to reach, and the second wife was constantly approving and loving and thought every tiny thing he did was amazing. "Did you see how he washed the car? And in only ten minutes? Isn't that amazing?" "Isn't it wonderful how he can row a boat?" I don't think I could say those things and mean them. I'd be feeling sarcastic about thirty seconds into that particular personality-change strategy. And yet I can see that that personality is far more conducive to marriage-building than my own. But I stand on my own two feet, and I think my husband has the potential - and therefore the duty - to do the same.

I'm going to see a psychiatrist this week, mostly because I told my husband's rav that I would do it. I don't really see how it can help the marriage, since I don't see how I can change my attitude to suddenly make me feel attracted to my husband or to suddenly respect him, but I suppose that if they're all right and I am some kind of psychotic, it's probably a good idea for me to find out, whether I stay married or not.

Options

I like to keep my options open.

I've always known it was something of a problem - the inability to choose between chocolate and vanilla makes it uncomfortable to buy ice cream. But I never thought it was a major problem, because on the big things, I make decisions with confidence - I selected my college major and stuck with it, and I've never regretted that choice. Sure, there are plenty of decisions I've second-guessed - not least of which was the decision to get engaged - but there are also plenty of instances of real decisiveness, both spur-of-the-moment and excruciating considered.

In fact, I've sometimes considered keeping my options open a positive trait; for example, I buy the bus ticket that works on both the express AND the local bus, so that I have the flexibility to take whichever comes first. Keeping my options open makes life easier. Although I appreciate - and need! - planning, I understand that flexibility is often more important.

In marriage, however, flexibility is a distinct problem. I've already committed to a course of action, but I wish that my options were still open. Is that because I have trouble with commitment? Or is it that I think this wasn't the right option? It's the same question, over and over: is something wrong with me, or did I just make a mistake? And why can't anyone help me figure that out?

This has been a real shavuah she'chal bo tishah b'av for me: at work and at home, everything went absolutely as wrongly as it could. Deadlines missed, paperworked misfiled, numbers miscalculated. Discovery of cancelled transit service only after paying the fare, not having time to buy bus tickets. Having an emotional collapse, yelling at my husband, being spiteful and angry. It's been really rotten.

I don't know exactly what I did to deserve all this - this year and this week - but I know that I am fervently wishing for the return of prophecy; maybe I can finally get some clarity with Divine answers.

May this be our last tishah b'av spent in mourning.

Vent

The frum view of marriage isn't that marriage is an expression of love and commitment between two people. Marriage is simply and completely the start of a new family. Thus, marriage partners are selected based on their qualities for formation of a family rather than on their qualities as a mate for their partner. It is assumed that hormones will take care of the partner-vetting, and young singles in the yeshivish world are encouraged to think very logically when making their selection of who to date and marry. Sometimes, in fact, they are encouraged to force logic to overcome the hormonal or instinctive responses. Sure, you have fun being with him, but do you want him to be the one to raise your children? Do you want his values to shape your home? And of course, there's enough pressure on "older" singles (anyone over the age of 20) to drive some people into marriage simply not to be single anymore. I can't tell you how many people tell me they're getting married just because they can't stand dating any more. And that's on top of the people who threaten to get married for the same reason.

With family-building as the operative rationale for marriage, personal fulfillment fades to a far second. Of course, personal fulfillment is important for living life, but many experts have assured me that it's okay to find your fulfillment in other venues. The only reason to leave a marriage is to escape pain, not to reopen options for something better. Let's face it - how likely is it that you'll find something better? Once you're divorced, you're tainted goods, and your options the second time around are only other tainted goods. Of course, that might turn out to be a good thing - after all, no one is perfect, and these people's flaws are more visible than other people's. There's something to be said for knowing up front what you're getting.

For me, the issues come down to the same basics that have been there from the beginning: (1) My spouse is clearly not - and probably won't ever be - my best friend. His very presence is more often an annoyance than anything else, although I'm slowly adjusting by teaching myself to care less about his feelings. Wow; what a great foundation for a loving relationship! (2) His plan for his future is not what I want for my future. At least part of that is my shaken religious foundation due to my current situation. This was post-marriage news to me; before I got married, I was sincerely convinced that I did want a kollel-klei kodesh life. I still somewhere deep inside think it would be a good lifestyle, but I'm starting to feel like it conflicts with my plans for myself. (3) I don't like sex. Not with my husband, anyhow, and I have no way of knowing if it would be better with someone else. Even reading the X-rated stuff doesn't really turn me on. I just don't get it. I'm definitely starting to feel like there's something fundamentally wrong with me there.

So why aren't these cut-and-dried reasons to get a divorce? Well, I have no guarantee that I'd find a better match the second time around, and according to the family-building philosophy, my current spouse is ideal. Stellar midos, loves kids, happy to help with housework, doesn't want to interfere with my plans for my own personal development. I don't know that I'd find a guy with all these qualities whom I'd like better; in fact, it's unlikely: I have a feeling that the kind of guy I'd find more attractive would be less of a nice person. More confident, more ambitious, more strong-willed, more dominant. Probably not as a nice. Probably not as low maintenance. Probably less willing to put up with my dislike of sex, presuming the problem is me and not my partner. And the whole lifestyle/kollel issue - I have a feeling that it's not really worth focusing on; the issues are more personal and less ideological.

I'm going to leave this out on the blog for comment, but I've noticed that a lot of the commenting starts with the assumption that I'm anti-frum or anti-yeshivish. Granted, I'm somewhat bitter about the way my life is progressing, but I'm not off the derech just yet. If I was, I probably wouldn't be in this marriage anymore, would I? I wouldn't care. I'm glad to hear what you have to say, and I welcome your sharing your own stories, but please try to keep this from becoming frum-bashing. Thanks in advance.

Focus

I wonder sometimes if too much focus causes the problems it's meant to eliminate. Or at least exacerbates them. All this talk, therapy, analysis, thought - and what does it accomplish? Well, it makes me think about my problems, define them clearly, pinpoint my frustrations. I'm not sure how that's supposed to contribute to the experts' advice to "stop focusing on the negatives; focus on the positives." If you keep asking me what's bothering me and what's wrong with my life, I'm definitely going to be focusing on the negatives.

I'm nowhere near having all my problems magically disappear, but sometimes I feel like their importance is overplayed. Is it really so important to love your spouse, or is it enough to get along with him and learn to respect his better qualities? Is it really so important to enjoy sex, or is it enough to learn to go through the motions? Obviously, one shouldn't live one's whole life in limbo, but maybe it's okay for a while. I know my husband is a good guy and has the important qualities for a husband and father - is it really better for me to throw that away in the hopes of finding a person I'll like better? Is this about me, or about producing the next generation? What is the meaning of my life, anyway? Am I really better off in the long run if my spouse is a better sparring/debating/recreational partner? Do I care if our religious priorities are not quite the same if I know that his are probably better than mine?

It's not as if my issues in this marriage are the only frustrations in my life. My job has become unbelievably annoying. All the nice little details that made being severely underpaid worth it? Gone. My rapport with my boss? Fraying. My enjoyment of my coworkers? Everyone's fuse is shorter than it used to be. Maybe it's the increased workload, or the economic depression, or the much more frightening job market. Maybe it's the swine flu. The world is full of highly annoying and depressing facets that are just one more thing to absorb into life and deal with. Life moves on, no matter how much you wish it wasn't taking the direction that it's taking. Mostly, these things are out of your control, and you somehow figure out how to cope.

So why is it that I think my marriage is different? I am definitely willing to admit that it was hashgacha that got me to the chupah; there's really no other way to explain it. I can't think of any decided actions on my part that brought things to a head - the shidduch took on a life of its own. Getting engaged, married, moving to Lakewood - these are all just new challenges, like my new project at work and my boss's newly short temper. Sometimes I feel like I should just stop trying to solve my problems and get on with life.

Epiphanies

I'm still here. I survived Pesach, and all the togetherness that it entails. I even survived the Chol Hamoed trips, although I learned that there are some things I may not be willing to do ever again, even in the name of shalom bayis. Much too hard on my nerves. I'm learning to be more selfish, and last night, my newest therapist told me that it's not only okay, but important for me to focus on myself more and not push myself too hard. Ah, validation.

I almost didn't go to the new therapist last night. When I first called to make the appointment, I was my (now normal) basket-case self. But over the last weekend, I had the latest in a series of epiphanies that I've been having ever since the full extent of my misery sank in. Every so often, I would suddenly see things in a new way; I'd start to wonder, "Why didn't I ever realize that before?" Of course, once the thrill of discovery wore off - or if I tried to share my epiphany with anyone else - I'd realize that I hadn't actually realized anything new. It was all the same things I'd known all along, but perhaps I was seeing new connections between old facts or new perspectives on old information. It's that magic "Aha!" moment. It's what I keep telling my husband can't be forced. Yes, I know in my brain that you're a wonderful person and perfect in every way (that was sarcasm, fyi - I'd better clarify before you commentors start bashing my lack of reality), but I don't feel that you're perfect for me, and I'm not in love with you. Even if I'd like to make myself love you, I can't. You can't force yourself to feel something. But every so often, something clicks inside of you, and suddenly you do feel - well - different, at least. Something changes inside you. It's probably what falling in love feels like, not that I'll ever know from my own experience. You see, what happened over this weekend was that I realized that it's entirely possible that the reason I couldn't find anything wrong with my husband or relationship - nothing concrete to tell the therapists and rabbis and concerned family members - is because there is nothing to tell. The reason it all looked good on paper is because it is good on paper. But I'm just not the type of person who is going to change my identity all that quickly based on paper. I need to feel certain things to be able to do certain things, and - barring falling in love or other strong narcotics - I'm not going to magically start feeling differently just because some stranger put a ring on my finger. I know it's been a while since that magic moment, and so I should have had time for all the good things to fall into place, but the stress that my marriage has been under pretty much since Day 1 kind of held everything in status quo. Of course, there's now a whole lot of baggage that wasn't there before, but also we've both changed in a lot of ways, so it might be possible to try starting over and this time do everything much, much more slowly, to give things a chance to develop a bit more naturally. It's certainly worth a try. At the worst, I'll still be where I am now, but I'll know myself much better. It's going to be tricky, because I'm not sure I can tell my husband about this epiphany - that might ruin all the development till now, because if I give back hope, he may revert to his old, super-confident, super-clingy, super-optimistic self. But of course, if I don't tell him, then he may give up on the whole thing, and that would certainly also defeat the purpose of trying again.

It's so funny how people -including, sometimes, me - insist on trying to pin problems on external factors. "She wasn't really committed to kollel." True, but I don't have a problem with kollel either. I think it's a wonderful idea, although not for everyone. Is it for me? Maybe. (Terrible answer to give to a shadchan - don't ever, ever say it.) "She should have married an older/ more experienced/ more mature/more ambitious guy." I probably would have had less trouble connecting to and respecting such a person, but I think it would have come with a different set of issues. Put two type A's in a small Lakewood apartment and wait for the fireworks. "She shouldn't live in Lakewood." Okay, no arguments there, but it's not like I have a problem with living in Lakewood, other than the fact that it's the middle of nowhere. And there really aren't all that many good options for where to move.

No, for me, the whole thing is about how I feel about the person I'm irrevocably bound to. If I'm connected to him, I can support whatever lifestyle I have to. Of course I'd rather not have to work, live in a mansion without a mortgage, be free to travel the world, not have to worry about bills. But assuming that I know why I'm doing what I'm doing - assuming I have a goal that I'm happy about - I can accomplish anything.

The best part about my latest epiphany isn't even so much that it put some hope back into my marriage. The best part is that I have regained my confidence in myself. All those people who are telling me that I'm terribly flawed and psychologically disturbed - I know with confidence that they're wrong. Maybe I work differently from most people, and maybe I wasn't sure quite how to express that so that I could help those who are completely different from me relate to me, but there's nothing wrong with me, and I won't let anyone take away that knowledge again.

Perfect

We're back to the whole theory vs. reality problem.

From the beginning, he was perfect. Perfect on paper, a perfect gentleman, perfect midos, just perfect. I remember using that description, crying, while debating whether to get engaged. I was still saying, "But he's perfect!", still crying, throughout the engagement. I knew, of course, that nothing is ever perfect, and of course, he wasn't, but I could see the imperfections, and they all seemed manageable, so that, too, was perfect.

Now he's still perfect: he's the one who's perfect, and I'm the one who's flawed. It's been agreed by enough people: I have the emotional problems that are serious; his emotional problems are not standing in the way of a healthy relationship. (Why is that, do you think? Because I'm lashing out and he's holding it in? Is denial healthier than misery?) He's the one willing to do anything; I'm the one who's not trying hard enough. He's even holding on beyond his end-of-the-rope because he's worried what divorce would do to me - how it would be harder on me than on him to be twenty-something and divorced. And he's right - that's two strikes for a girl, versus one for a boy. He's so sensitive, it's unbelievable. How can anyone be worthy of such perfection? How can anyone live with it?

At least he's finally denying his perfection; he used to take it as his due when I said "Okay, you're perfect, you're better than I am." Now he's showing some sign of realizing that it was generally sarcastic when I said things like that.

My problem is that this is the biggest thing in my life: what I do next in my marriage will impact the rest of my life. I want to do the right thing, or at least the best thing. If this is going to continue, I need a reason more than the ones that have been keeping me going for the last many months. If this is going to end, I need closure, and that means being able to convince myself that all that theory isn't true. As long as I think that it can and should work out the way the whole world assumes that it is working, I won't be able to find that closure.

Drugs and Alcohol

No, this is not about anything illegal. This is about solutions. You wouldn't believe how many (or which!) rabbis have advised me to use alcohol to "get in the mood" - not only for sex, for for cheerfulness in general. And yes, sometimes I do follow that advice. However, I still feel pretty strongly that a problem that is best dealt with using drugs and/or alcohol is probably a problem that needs a different solution. I can't say, "Yes, I'll stay married if I can just stay drunk." It would make my job way more difficult, among other things. Alcohol is not a solution, even when it tastes good.

Drugs, then. Well, since I first realized that I didn't think this would work, I've been on birth control. Oral birth control, as everyone knows, is basically hormone therapy. Girls have lots of hormones, and the gender as a whole is pretty well known for mood swings and such even when there is nothing artificial going on in the body. All girls have "times of the month", and all the jokes - frum and not - agree that women change their minds and feelings for what seems to be no reason at all. Taking hormones can either regulate your cycle, and therefore your mood swings, or it can do nothing for your mood, or it can cause depression, anxiety, and a host of other problems.

And other drugs? My husband went through cycles of wanting me to take an anti-depressant. I even considered it for a while; it was only the fact that the psychiatrist who my psychologist recommended kept not calling back so that I could schedule an appointment. I would have moved on to a different doctor, but by the time I gave up on the recommended one, I wasn't convinced that anti-depressants would really help.

It took me a while to think that maybe, just maybe, the birth control was affecting my attitude to my marriage. I'll admit that. I was miserable before I started taking the pills - in fact, my misery was the reason I started with birth control - and I didn't really think that the pills were contributing or prolonging or having anything to do with my mental and emotional state. I'm still not convinced that they are, because I can be happy and pleasant and my old normal self when I'm at work or hanging out (alone) with friends; I only fall apart when I'm with my husband or being asked to talk about my marital problems. Then, I cry, with very little preliminaries anymore. Other than that, my mood has normal fluctuations: sometimes I'm in a good mood, and sometimes I'm in a bad mood. Granted, my bad moods are more and more frequent than they used to be, and they tend to be worse, but they're not constant. They do mean that I have a much harder time dealing with the usual disappointments of life, things that I used to be able to handle with no trouble at all, but they're not constant. There are times when I'm in a better mood, and that carries me through even the painful, depressing things. They're still painful and depressing, but I don't fall apart.

Every time a commentor shortens my pseudonym to "bi", I think "bipolar". Is that what I am? But bipolar people also have manic moods - extreme happiness. I haven't been extremely anything, except miserable, since I got married; my life is pretty serious. My issues are serious, anyway.

So therapy, then. I'm not afraid to admit that I have problems. I'm not afraid to go to a therapist. I do think that it makes more sense to work through issues within marriage rather than get divorced, work through issues, and try again - but only if the marriage itself has potential. I can see potential in my marriage whenever I'm not around my husband. I can see all the potential in theory, in my head, even in my discussions with rabbis and therapists. I see the value; I know it's there. It's only that I don't feel convinced when I'm with my husband; then, all the doubts coming crashing down. I don't know if it's lack of attraction, or depression, or what. I don't know if it's this marriage, or something within me. How am I supposed to find that out if our entire past history is dragging heavy and not allowing any room for personal exploration?

Conviction

I know that I've had commitment issues since Day 1, but they haven't stayed the same throughout this journey that we call my marriage. At first, the only commitment I had trouble with was the emotional bond with my husband. Admittedly, significant - but not unworkable. I knew that I wasn't fully committed before I got married; in fact, various rabbis and advisors knew this, too, and didn't seem to think that this was a serious problem. "It'll come later." Major issue, but supposedly common enough and not a serious impediment to relationship building.

That doubt didn't go away, and the situation, as you know, didn't get better. It got worse. The doubt began to creep into everything: my religious conviction (How could everything go so wrong if it was all done with such good intentions and proper guidance?), my belief in the institution of marriage, my suitability for a long-term relationship, my purpose in life. It's quite fascinating, if you're a sociologist or something. Less fun if it's your life, and you've started thinking about trains and anti-depressants.

Anyhow, just very recently, it hit me again. (I was going to leave off the "again", but I'm discovering that many of the thoughts that I think are new are actually old; it's just that I don't remember things well anymore. Probably due to stress and an inability to focus.) I keep saying that I am prepared to do whatever it takes to solve this, but what solution am I aiming for? I'm not convinced that being married to my husband is the best route for me; I'm just too scared of being divorced. Also, if I want a divorce, there's no "work to be done". It's a decision - ask for a get - and then it's over. I guess I can't quite resign myself to quitting, even though I want to be out of this. And of course, there's still the social and religious conscience that says to me that I should try to save my marriage if I can. And there's also the fact that I don't want to be a failure. Similar to the "I'm not a quitter" thing.

We've started with yet another counselor, and he's advising similar things to what the first (or second; I've lost track) one did. At the time, with him talking, I was all, "Yes, I'll do whatever it takes", and I meant it. But then I got home, and I felt like - haven't we already been down this road? And last time, it didn't make things "marginally better", which I believe is the goal; it made things worse. Also, it's a very hard thing that they're asking of me, and maybe I'm too lazy for it. Or maybe I just resent that it is, once again, me who's being asked to do something very difficult for me, while my husband gets to "hang in there". He doesn't have to do anything; in fact, what I'm supposed to be doing is exactly what he wants me to be doing, even though I don't want to do it. So even though I felt like the new counselor did understand the situation, I can't help feeling that it's unfair to me to make all these demands of me. But then, all men think a certain way; I guess it's hard-wired. Maybe I should get another female counselor, but I really disliked the last one. Or maybe they're just right, and I'm resisting because I don't like being wrong. Or because it's just hard, and I'm lazy.

Is it fair to me to destroy my self-esteem in the name of saving a marriage that I don't even believe in?

Blame Game

In the last post's comments, someone brought up the subject of blame, so I thought I'd talk about it a bit.

There’s a big difference between blaming someone/something for a situation and examining it as a cause of that situation. Maybe this is just semantics, but I think the point is worth making. Since it’s hard to make this point without devolving into a vague set of undefined terms, I’ll start with the example.

Let’s say you stayed up too late last night doing something unproductive, like watching TV. Thus, you’re too tired to really work properly today, and everything feels like it takes twice as long as it should. Everyone has had days like that, right? Familiar situation.

Okay. Who’s to blame? You are. Not the TV. Still, the TV can be identified as a cause of the problem, which is your fatigue and inability to work to your full potential. It was your stupid decision to watch TV to all hours; it’s your fault. If you want to punish someone or something, you don’t take a hammer to the TV. You punish yourself, probably by creating some sort of TV ban for a while.

In the above example, we’ve identified blame, cause, problem, and punishment.

Let’s change the scenario, without changing the problem. You’re still too tired to do your work today. However, the reason is that you had a baby last month, and you had to wake up every hour to feed it. Now who’s to blame? The baby? You, for getting pregnant? G-d, for allowing the miracle of new life? No one’s to blame. Thus, there’s no need for punishment. There’s still a problem, and it still has a cause, though.

In neither case did we identify a solution to the problem. There are many possible solutions that we can think of: taking catnaps during the day, going to sleep earlier at night, imbibing large quantities of caffeine. Interestingly, all these solutions apply to both cases, since the problem is the same. These are generic solutions, independent of cause. Cause is not the same as blame; blame never has anything to do with solution. Cause does. Blame may serve as catharsis for feelings of guilt, but it never contributes to solving the problem. Identifying the cause, however, often suggests new solution possibilities. Some cause-specific solutions for our examples are getting rid of the TV so that you have one less thing distracting you from bed (although we all know you’ll just substitute something else), in the first case, or hiring a night nurse, in the second case. These solutions don’t apply to both cases, since they are cause-specific. Still, they are solutions, not catharsis. There are also drastic solutions that mentally ill people might consider, like killing the baby. This one is considered pretty extreme and not in keeping with the magnitude of the problem. It’s not a good solution, but it’s still a solution.

Coming back to my own situation, you may be right. I may be blaming all sorts of things other than myself (although I think I blame myself plenty) – and that might help me deal with all this by providing catharsis. That’s similar to the purpose of this blog, or seeing a therapist. I need to get the mental anguish out, or I’ll go crazy.

But I think that most of the time when I’m looking at things outside myself to explain my quandary, it’s about cause, because I’m looking for solutions. Saying that I am the cause of my problem is well and good – and true – but frankly, I don’t know how to extrapolate a solution from that. On the other hand, if I look at, for example, my living situation as a partial cause of the problem, I can find a solution: move. I’m looking for these partial causes because partial solutions would still improve the situation, even if they can’t completely fix it. This is one of those pieces of advice that actually makes sense to me: change as much as you can, do as many little things as you can, and maybe, just maybe, that will have an impact on your perception of the situation at large. And since my emotional commitment is largely a matter of my perception, and improving my emotional state would eventually contribute to a complete solution, I think it’s worthwhile to keep looking at the little things. Don’t worry, though – I still spend plenty of time in mental self-flagellation.

Anticipation

The frum blogosphere is full of tirades from both men and women, frum and OTD, regarding taharas hamishpacha. Yes, this is another one. I think my perspective on the subject is somewhat unusual, but of course that may just be ego talking.

A few months ago, I would have told you that I don't mind keeping taharas hamishpacha; in fact, I was grateful for the mandatory respite from sex. Imagine - two whole weeks when he can't even ask me! Two whole weeks without worry! Gevaldik!

That's not how I feel anymore, though. I've started feeling that taharas hamishpacha is contributing to my dislike of intimacy. The halachos of taharas hamishpacha - and yes, that so-welcome mandatory respite - are contributing to my feeling objectified. I feel like we don't even have a chance to work on developing an emotional bond or a friendship that would make me happier to be bound to this person for the rest of my life: our relationship is halachicly focused on sex, on the woman's sexual cycle. The woman is a sex object, no matter how chivalrous the man is. No matter how much he pretends - or even tries - to focus on the woman's other qualities, the most important part of their relationship is going to be focused on whether or not he can touch her.

I am makpid on negiah. At work, where I spend my day mostly with goyim, I am very careful to avoid touching men. Although it's not particularly comfortable, especially in my line of work, I refuse to shake hands with people. I ask them not to touch me in platonic ways. Still, I'll admit that if it's something that the person clearly didn't even notice doing, and it's unlikely to ever happen again, I sometimes let things slide. I know that my husband is not going to be embarrassed or unhappy if I point out his own infractions while I'm a nidah, but I'll admit that there are times when I let those slide, too. If he passes me something without thinking about it, or if we forget to put a heker on the table, and I notice, sometimes I say something, and sometimes I don't. To be honest, sometimes I forget some of the harchakos. Not the negiah ones, but the heker and things like that. Sometimes I forget. Never that I'm a nidah, but sometimes that I'm not supposed to do something. I'm pretty good, but I'm not perfect. And it doesn't even bother me to slip up on these things; I'm having a lot of trouble appreciating the beauty in taharas hamishpacha.

Anyhow, my point is that since sex is not a part of anyone's relationship at the office, and since I don't believe I'm viewed as a sexual object in that setting, I don't focus on touch in building relationships - and neither do the people with whom I work. We build healthy, functional working relationships - and yes, friendships - without sexual undertones. No, I would never have considered marrying any of them, and no, sex never enters my mind as the natural progression of a close relationship, but still - I don't even think the men in my office think of that as a primary part of our relationships. Even the ones who like me and think I'm pretty. Even the ones who consider me a friend. (All right, I got pretty good at sending out "keep away" messages during college. I don't think any of them think of me as a good possibility for a relationship. Or even thought of me that way prior to my marriage.) Thus, I feel justified in believing that not all men think about women in a sexual context at all times. In fact, I'd be willing to say that most men are capable of thinking about other things than sex.

So I'm forced to assume that this seeming obsession by young frum married men with sex is caused, at least in part, by taharas hamishpacha. Imagine being forbidden any sort of sexual outlet for the 20-odd years leading up to marriage, and then only being able to think about sex 50% of the time. We're talking about young human men who have spent a lot of time working to develop their minds. They are hit with a whole new set of halacha when they get married, and they think about it non-stop. Horny newlywed kollel guys? Blame taharas hamishpacha. Maybe a more casual attitude to things like "affectionate touching" - within the bounds of marriage; I'm not advocating throwing out negiah - would cause fewer horniness issues.

All that horniness, I think, is one of the things that is hindering my ability to build a relationship with my husband. I don't see him as sexually attractive at all, and there are some things that I could finger as distinct turn-offs. If I'm trying to build a sex-based relationship here, there's really pretty much no hope. And I can't build a platonic relationship, because my every day is a constant reminder of my nidah or non-nidah status, and we are forced to constantly think about our sexual relationship. Either I'm counting the days I'm menstruating, or I'm counting the days I stick a cloth up where really I'd prefer to have nothing at all going, or I'm anticipating requests for some sort of sex and either trying to force myself into willingness or trying to come up with valid new excuses why I'm not willing. There is never a vacation. I'm always on duty, and I'm always feeling like an object.

I can't say I look forward to mikvah night. I don't find the mikvah a humiliating experience, but I don't enjoy it. I don't see it as a spiritually uplifting experience. I don't sense a profound direct connection to G-d when I'm standing in the pure waters of the mikvah. I try to daven for a better connection with my husband, hoping against hope that my kallah teacher is right and there is a special power to tefillos from the mikvah. I do it, because I feel like it's the right thing, and there's always this tiny hope that it will work.

The last time I went to mikvah, I took along a book to read in the tub. I managed to get myself in a much better mood than I ever had prior to sex. It lasted until I got home, and then the good feeling evaporated. But still, that one time, I looked forward to mikvah night. Why? Not because I eagerly awaited a reunion with a special person, but because I was finally in a mood where I'd be able to handle my duties, and if I could do them that night, I'd be off the hook for a while. Somehow, I don't think that's the anticipation that halacha had in mind.

Time Lapse

It took me maybe five seconds in the yichud room to start feeling uncomfortable. It took maybe another month for me to realize just how wrong things felt. It took my husband quite a bit longer to figure out that there was something serious going on; he would tell you himself that he enjoyed and encouraged his own ignorance. He knew that things weren't perfect - it would have been kind of difficult to miss all the signs - but he didn't realize that I was totally miserable or that the evil d-word was floating through my mind. It took a lot of time and a lot of therapy for him to come to terms with the magnitude of the problem.

My husband is a pretty optimistic guy. He generally accomplishes this by ignoring any negatives and focusing on the positive. This is a wonderful midah, but it means that he doesn't actually deal with negatives. He pretends they don't exist. It seems to have worked for him in most aspects of his life. I, however, am not so good at ignoring what I don't want to see; I insist on dragging problems out into the open, where presumably they will be easier to deal with. I am capable of laziness and of hoping that time and inertia will make action by me unnecessary, but I am not capable of pretending the problem doesn't exist. Thus, I forced my husband to acknowledge the existence and importance of what was going on in our marriage. However, once the problem was visible, he had no tools to deal with it: his usual tool of aggressive ignorance would no longer work.

Since that cruel pulling away of the wool over his eyes, he's been sinking deeper and deeper into something closely resembling depression. This is ironic, since a few months ago, he was accusing me of being depressed and trying to convince me that Prozac would solve all our relationship problems. Actually, for a while I was convinced that it was a possibility, and I considered going on an anti-depressant, all in the name of leaving no stone unturned.

Forced acknowledgement is worse than just ironic, though; it's counter-productive. Before, I could be reasonably certain that if I managed to straighten out my own issues, we would be okay. Now, though, my husband has a whole set of issues and unhappiness all his own. That means that if I do fix things on my end, we're not home free and happy. We're needing to deal with problems that I created post-wedding. I'm not so selfish as to think my husband is not entitled to have his own issues and to be upset at times. But these aren't his issues; they're still mine. I don't want to have to fix them twice, especially when the second time around I'll have to deal with them in an unfamiliar brain pattern, so that I don't know how to reassure him in a way that will hold. And it hurts to know that I've made things worse - again - by following the experts' advice.

Irony has a way of escalating. I used to think that one of the reasons that I couldn't emotionally connect with my husband was that he didn't need me emotionally. After lots of therapy, we have managed to get him to admit he has issues with dealing with emotions. Most men are less in tune than women are with their emotions, but he is less in tune with his emotions than even most men, and by his own efforts to make himself that way. I need to be needed, and I didn't feel like he needed me. Now he does, because he certainly isn't capable of handling these newfound emotions himself. The irony is that making things worse may be a catalyst for making things better. However, that is probably a false hope, since I don't really want to help anymore. We have too much negative history at this point.

But I'm trying to be fair. He had to put up with months of my extreme misery, even though he spent most of that time in denial. Yes, I've finally managed to achieve apathy - who would have ever thought I'd think that was an achievement? - and he's a few months behind me in getting to miserable. If he had to put up with me, I should be willing to let him have a few months of self-indulgent sulking. It's a shame we couldn't do the misery thing at the same time, but then, maybe the marriage would be over by now if we had. Although I'm not convinced that that would be a bad thing. Prolonging the misery is not a goal I strive for.

Reading and Writing

Every experience has an impact. I'm not always sure if that's a good thing.

My ultimate goal right now is to be happy. I know that doesn't sound lofty or inspiring or impressive. It's not as "important" as doing the right thing, serving Hashem, making a kiddush Hashem, bringing Jewish children into the world. But it's my goal of the moment. Happy.

I'm not being too picky right now about the specific form of happiness. Although there are a number of reasons why I would like to not be married, it would certainly be easier, and in the long run, perhaps, better, to stay married. If I can be happy in this marriage, it is certainly less complicated than any other solution. Complicated sort of defeats happy (although not always), so I'm trying to work with what I have. After all, on some level, I did choose this.

Being happy in this marriage involves not thinking very much. If I think, I realize all the things that are wrong with my relationship. If I think, I realize that I go out and shmooze for hours with neighbors about nothing at all, just so that I don't have to pretend to be in a good mood to my husband. It's easier to pretend for the neighbors.

Sometimes I think I'm just not cut out for marriage, and that I would be equally unhappy in any marriage. I compare my husband to most of the other guys I know, married and unmarried, and I can't picture myself happier with any of them. But if I think harder, I remember that there are one or two guys whose company I do enjoy, and really, that would be enough to make me happier in a marriage. All the other stuff, I can do. The cooking and cleaning and housekeeping - I have that under control. Sex? Well, maybe if I enjoyed being with him, I would be more into making him feel good the way he wants to feel good. I don't need the sex, but if I enjoyed the conversation and the company, I'd want to give him his. Of course, the one guy who I've met recently who meets that description is related to my husband and younger than both of us. I can't even say that if he had been reht to me before my husband, I would have been better off, because I don't think it would ever have happened. The age difference probably would have nixed it. Also, he is missing some of my key "checklist" no-compromise items. So much for the checklist. The checklist matches good evolutionary characteristics, but it doesn't measure compatibility or friendship. I know, I know, you're supposed to be able to do that for yourself by dating. But I've been uptight all my life, and I guess I had trouble distinguishing between propriety and incompatibility.

If I don't think too much, though, I can settle into complacency. I convince myself that I can keep this up, so why rock the boat? I think - I'll move, have kids, build a family, find fulfillment through other outlets than my husband. I'll get along with my husband cordially, just like I do now. Life won't be perfect, but I can deal with it. I'll be okay. Does anyone have a perfect life?

But then I come here and I read about people who are happy. I'm not only talking about frum blogs; I'm talking about everyone. There are lots of people who do manage to find a person they love and who make the commitment to marriage not because they should, not because society expects them to, not because the family unit is the only acceptable household style, but because they have found a person about whom they can say, "Home is a person, not a place." They have found a person to whom they want to commit. I got married to be married; they get married to be with each other in a formal, committed relationship. And they're happy, and I'm not. Why didn't I hold a little tighter to my Western education and hold out for happiness? Or, if I really am not cut out for marriage, why couldn't I be strong enough to be happy in singlehood? I also read about happy singles and divorcees. Of course, I also read about miserable singles and divorcees. So of course, I am led to wonder whether happiness is at all related to one's situation in life, or if it's just a character trait. Some people will be happy no matter what, and some won't be, no matter what. And if I'm one of the latter, why even bother trying to be happy?

Light in the Dark

One morning on the train, the car lights went out while the train was in a tunnel. Pitch black, right?

But no. In today's day and age, there are lots of lights in the darkness. There was a girl playing on her iPod, a guy using a laptop: small lights in the darkness. Can we see technology as a symbol of hope?

I may just need to leave Lakewood.

The Other Side

Most things have more than one side. It's a side effect of living in a three-dimensional universe. Of course, there are Moebius strips, but those take conscious efforts.

For example, I stumbled across this blog yesterday. Mostly, I've been trying to fix my attitude to marriage by looking for other marrieds who've been through a painful beginning and looking for hope and insight from them. But there's another set of experiences to consider: the girls who didn't take the plunge. I keep thinking to myself that I wish I could turn back the clock and have never gotten married to begin with; never having gotten engaged would be even better. But I do still faintly remember pre-marriage me, and I wasn't the happiest person. That's what convinced me in the end to go for perfect-on-paper: I couldn't take being the nebach single when I knew that I wasn't a nebach at all. Maybe seeing how a girl who did choose to remain single regrets her decision and is trying to make herself more marriage-minded will help me change my own perspective.

Or, to paraphrase one of the anonymous commentors, maybe it takes being married to recognize that I'm more suited to being single. I certainly didn't think I wanted to be single forever when I was single, but now I'm giving it much more serious thought. Still, being single is a very selfish lifestyle: I wouldn't have to care about anyone. Being the spinster aunt might be fun, but is it fulfilling? Am I thinking about singlehood as better than marriage, or better than this marriage?

Frum Seeking

Mid-20's kollel wife, overworked, underpaid, performs well under stress, seeking well-proportioned caffeinated beverage for long-term relationship.

When I read about the frum-seeking-frum ads on Craig's List and the like, I am sickened. Cheating is simply not a good option. Maybe it's mutar for a man, m'ikar hadin, but it's (a) illegal and (b) morally wrong. And for women, it's a clear issur - issur karais! And yet, people feel justified in doing something like that, because they feel they need to.

I was reading a website run by a traditional Indian group, where arranged marriages are common. They discussed the differences between a physical affair and an emotional affair. Is one worse than the other? Is either permissible?

We all know that physical affairs are definitely assur. Now, how about emotional affairs? Is it okay if there are male friends with whom I feel more comfortable than with my husband? Is it okay if we discuss personal matters, if we laugh together, if we talk about our lives and families? Or is that a violation of a law?

The Indian website was of the opinion that emotional affairs are even worse than physical ones, because an emotional affair betrays the very fabric of the relationship. My question is - what relationship? Is there a relationship just because two people live together? Just because they stood together under a chupah? Just because they got a marriage license? That doesn't build a relationship; those things only create a framework for a relationship.

Why is it so much easier to build a relationship with someone when there are no strings attached? One would think that commitment would help make a relationship stronger: aren't our strongest relationships those with our family, who we can't divorce or discard? You can't run away from family, and thus, the saying goes, blood is thicker than water. Wouldn't that imply that commitment is proportional to the strength of the tie? So marriage should make a relationship stronger and easier. Divorce is hard; divorce is wrong; divorce is a last resort. And yet I find it so much easier to make friends with other people than with my husband. Somehow I resist his advances, even unconsciously. Is it fear of commitment? But I'm already committed! At least in the eyes of the world and the law, and that's plenty. So I end up thinking that the reason we can't make that "click" happen is because we're not suited - and yet, again, when he's not around, I can convince myself of just how well we are suited.

Non-Expert Advice

I realize that I'm currently posting this on the internet, where the general populace can read all the sordid details of my misery. Still, in real life, where people can see my face and know my name, I don't tell that many people about what's going on in my marriage. At least, I don't think I do. But while I'm a pretty good actress, and most people seem to think I'm very happily married and we're such a cute, well-suited couple (which may be objectively true; I hope it is), there are times when I let my guard down. More and more, recently. I can't do this without help anymore, and the only way to get help is to ask for it. Or at least to make it clear that you are open to it.

I started my advice-seeking in the right place: I started with my rabbi. At the same time, I consulted my kallah teacher, whose husband happens to be a rabbi as well. I asked for eitzos about marriage, and I asked my shailos about birth control. I had my share of panic, and I handled it the way a good BY girl should. I truly believe that I did everything I was supposed to do. My rabbi told me to get counseling, which I was planning to do anyway, and that started me on a round of therapists, with sessions both alone and with my husband. I maintained periodic contact with my rabbi during the long months of therapy.

After many months and many thousands of dollars, I've sort of grown frustrated with the mandated methods of advice-seeking. I'm trying conventional, but less recommended, ways of dealing with my feelings: writing in my journal, blogging, talking to trusted friends and family. (I know, they say NEVER talk about these things with your parents because they'll never forget and then if things work out, your parents forever have a bad impression of your spouse, but sometimes you have to deal with the now and let the future stay in the future. Working out is still an if.) What I've discovered, not particularly shockingly, is that I'm not the only frum girl who had a rocky start to her marriage. Sometimes it gets better; people deal with things differently. What's scary is that most of the people for whom it has gotten better had rocky beginnings that lasted years. Like six or seven or eight years. That's a pretty long time to be miserable. It means there might be a light at the end of the tunnel, but it's a very long tunnel. And that light also might not be there; the twists and turns of the tunnel make it impossible to see what's at the end. Even light can't bend that many times. And while I am willing to keep trying (although I'm not sure I'll last that number of years at this level of despair), I don't want to ever be a divorcee with kids. Can I really postpone having children until I'm sure of my happiness in my marriage? It's not fair, not to myself, my husband, or any future children. (I'm not sure how I feel about children, but that's a subject for another day.)

Anyhow, non-expert advice is sometimes more helpful than expert advice, particularly when you're more interested in empathy than solutions. Solutions are rational; empathy is emotional. My problems right now are all emotional; I have rational very well covered. I still hate spontaneous crying in other people's living rooms, but sometimes it's worthwhile.

In Theory

Theories are a little bit like dreams.

There are a lot of things that I can convince myself of in theory.

In theory, I could fall in love with my husband: he has all the qualifications of a guy that I should want to spend my life with. He has a sense of humor. He has a strong sense of values. They might not match mine 100% exactly, but the basics are close enough. Everyone tells me he's good-looking, although he doesn't exactly match my taste. But I know that my taste in men is not exactly normal. I'm not into tall and broad (which he is), or dark and broody (which he is). Although big hands are definitely manly, on the whole, I prefer slight and blonde. Also, I have a crazy thing about teeth and nails. What can I say; I'm weird like that. But being as I can think of tall, broad, dark movie stars that I think are good-looking, I'm convinced that if I could just manage to formulate the emotional attachment, the physical attraction would work itself out. All the books say that women base attraction on emotions, not on looks. I'm willing to believe that.

I can convince myself that I like him, as long as he's not around. When he's around, suddenly I'm annoyed. I don't know why I get annoyed so often, and I don't know how to stop it. But in theory, everything's wonderful: it's only real life spending time together that I can't stand.

In theory, I could learn to enjoy sex. I am a very passionate person, and I'm not ashamed of my body. I don't really understand the the male fascination with women's bodies, but then again, I'm not male. And I'm human enough to enjoy feeling good. Of course, right now it doesn't feel good, but that's a Catch-22. I can't relax because I know it's going to hurt, and thus it hurts more because I'm not relaxed.

Sometimes I manage to convince myself and relax my body. Sometimes I get myself in the mood enough to play along or even act appropriately. And I'm studying. I'm shocking my inner BY girl with the things I'm reading. I just bought a book that I can't even admit to myself I would buy. And yes, I'm planning to read it. Believe it or not, in the name of science. Sometimes information helps.

In theory, I have no issues with Lakewood. Even though it's in the middle of nowhere, the roads are icy and the legality of my apartment is questionable, food is reasonably cheap, it's a pretty town in the spring, and tuition (if/when that ever becomes applicable) is reasonable compared to other places. The people whom I've met are nice, and my rent is affordable. Lots of reasons to live there.

Notwithstanding the tuition savings, I don't think I could raise kids in Lakewood. I need a more open-minded neighborhood, because I want my kids to be "normal", whatever that means. But even before kids, I can't stay too long in Lakewood because I need my husband to be surrounded by people who won't force him to conform to Lakewood values. It's not how he was raised, but it is the educational system he went through. A decent setting might help deal with some of the value conflicts that we've had post-marriage. (There are never value conflicts pre-marriage; we're all too busy impressing each other with how wonderful we are while still being normal.)

In conclusion, theory is good. But it doesn't seem to transfer all that well to reality. As a scientist, I'm wondering how long I can go on ignoring the experimental results and hanging on to the clearly failing hypothesis.

Broken

Today, someone let me know that an old prospect - one that had gotten "serious" - got engaged. This took me a bit by surprise, since as far as I knew he had gotten married last year. While I don't know the whole story, it means that either the engagement was broken or that they got married last year and it didn't last.

Do you know what the saddest part about that is? I'm jealous. I'm jealous of the courage of whoever broke the engagement or the marriage. I know I didn't have the courage to break an engagement (although I did have the courage to break off my relationship with that particular young man prior to its becoming an engagement), and I don't think I have the courage to destroy my marriage.

Another old prospect also got engaged today, to a friend of mine. That happens to me quite a bit; it's a small world we live in. I'm happy for them, of course, and I wish them much joy. And I'm so glad it isn't me he's marrying.

Dreaming Dreams

I have achieved the American dream: I have everything I ever thought I wanted, and I'm not happy. Even more - I have everything that everyone else wanted for me, and even knowing that I have managed to thoroughly impress the watching eyes of society doesn't manage to make me feel good about my life.

I have a good Bais Yaakov education, went to the right seminary, come from a good family. I have a good secular education, too, and by now, I have a decent job with the prospects of a very good one. Of course, the reason a good BY girl concerned herself with secular education and job prospects is obvious: I wanted to be able to support my husband in kollel without bankrupting my parents or my in-laws. I wanted kollel because I believed in it, and I wouldn't ask someone else to finance my dream.

That secular education was a bit of an issue while I was in shidduchim; after all, what top learner worth his salt would be willing to go out with a girl who went to a secular college? (You'd be surprised. Many.) Still, I'll admit that most of the shidduchim suggested were "pas nisht" for a girl of my family and caliber. So when I finally got engaged, at my advanced age, to a boy with a reputation for solid, serious learning, who went to all (and only) the right yeshivos, who came from a wonderful family, who was fresh out of the freezer, everybody said, "Wow! How did she pull that off?"

Even then, the very night of engagement, I was hesitant. How could I commit to spending the rest of my life with someone I barely knew? I knew that everything about him was right and good and perfect for me - I remember crying to my mother while saying, "But he's perfect. He's perfect!" - and yet I wasn't sure I could do it. Everyone told me it was normal to be nervous during the engagement. Marriage is such a big unknown, and it's frightening. It will be okay.

It's not okay. Everything is still perfect on paper, but I'm not. My marriage is not anywhere near perfect, however wonderful a couple we look on the outside. I absolutely hate when people ask me, "So how's married life?" because I can't answer the question. I'm not going to tell the truth, chas v'shalom, but I don't like being a hypocrite. The truth, though, is that I hate married life. I don't enjoy spending time with my husband, I don't like having to give up activities and independence that conflict with my wifely duties, and I don't like sex. And I feel tremendously guilty about that.

I've gone through stages since I got married. First, I blamed the system. Then I blamed myself for not realizing that I didn't want to live the system. Then, I decided that I hadn't been lying all those years, that I could live the system, but that I couldn't be married to someone I didn't love. Never mind that "true, lasting love comes after marriage and takes work" - you might be able to see that in ten years your life will be perfect, but you first have to survive those ten years! And it will never be perfect if you merely survive the passage of time: you have to be able to make improvements as time moves along.

My current stage is perhaps the most frightening of all. I've mostly stopped caring. I can live this way, and it will make a lot of people happy if I do. Myself, I don't know if I'll ever be happy: I'm not convinced that getting divorced would improve my situation. My husband is a wonderful guy, and I'd be hard-pressed to find a better person, in terms of midos and in terms of potential. Being divorced wouldn't necessarily open me up to better choices: divorced and frum is a stigma she'ein kamohu, and divorced and not frum is a choice I'm not quite willing to make yet. My Yiddishkeit - and my pride in my Yiddishkeit - is too deeply ingrained in me. I have my doubts sometimes about my lifestyle, but I can't take the step and say I don't believe in G-d. And frum or not, my upbringing has left some indelible imprints that will forever affect my ability to form relationships. I'm not sure I'm capable of falling in love, or even in lust. And if it's never going to happen, what would be the point of ruining my life and someone else's for the meager chance at dubious happiness?