Stretching

It's been a while, but this blog grew out of my inability to find anything on the internet when I searched for certain keywords, and now I'm finding that same situation again. So I thought I'd put my own thoughts out there for the next person who might travel my path.

To catch you up a little, I've managed to get my life pretty much back in order. I like living on my own, and I've found plenty to keep me busy. I only miss being part of a couple when I'm at any affair where most of the attendees are in a couple - which is most of the affairs that happen in the frum world. I've always heard that holiday season is especially hard for singles; turns out that's true. And it's really hard to find a vacation companion when you're no longer "one of the girls" but also not a couple. But I've been swamped with Shabbos invitations, sometimes from the most unexpected sources, and everyone has been making a point of being accepting and sympathetic and supportive. I'm in a good place.

There's definitely a part of me that wants to be part of a couple, but I don't want to go through all the same second-guessing and misery again. So I'm trying to work through my issues on my own, before jumping back into the dating game. Of course, it's possible that the only way to find some of these things out is to start dating again, but I haven't yet exhausted the other avenues yet, so I haven't started dating again. I'm considering it, but I vacillate on whether I want to.

It's hard for me to work through my issues, since I'm trying to do it alone. Therapy was a bad move for me: I think at least some of the issues I'm dealing with were created by the therapists. Maybe not, but some of these are ideas I probably wouldn't have been able to come up with myself, so I'm not rushing back into therapy.

The idea I've been wrestling with recently is asexuality. There are forums that discuss asexuality, but none of them address this condition within the context of a family-minded community. Maybe some of the organizations that deal with homosexuality in the frum community have applicable ideas - it's a similar issue in that homosexuals also can't start a traditional family, and the questions about nature vs. nurture are similar - but asexuality shouldn't have the same cultural or halachic taboos. Lack of sexual desire wouldn't lead a person to anything prohibited by the Torah - in fact, it's almost like a geder on gilui arayos. Asexual people, then, have one fewer major ta'avah in their lives. But it does make it difficult to start a family if you're not willing to have sex.

Some people discount the possibility of asexuality; clearly, they'll say, you just haven't met the right one yet. Of course, they'll say that to homosexuals as well. I was never able to decide if I believed that homosexuality was a choice, but I do believe that Orthodox doctrine is that people are judged only for their actions, not for their thoughts or desires. Homosexuality wouldn't be a sin; only homosexual intercourse. There are many urges that we have that we are not allowed to act upon, and this is just another one.

I read an article on one of the frum blogs asking why any girl would date a guy she knew to be homosexual. I'd like to suggest that there are frum girls out there who want to be married, since it's certainly the thing to do, but may not be interested in the sexual aspect of marriage. There are frum asexual women. There are probably frum homosexual women, too.

Am I asexual? I've had my share of sexual fantasies. I'm not immune to good looks. But I have yet to be "turned on" by anything.

But then again, maybe I just haven't met the right guy.

Surprises

This is all both harder and easier than I thought it would be. It's easier to be divorced than I thought: the social issues I was anticipating are pretty much non-issues, with some few exceptions. People are okay with this, or they're just ignoring it altogether. I'm doing pretty well at avoiding the subject, too, and pretending like life is just moving along without any major bumps. I'm definitely happier divorced than I was married: no more thinking about how wonderful it might be to put an end to everything. No more wondering if I should just try stepping in front of the train instead of onto it.

But it's harder too. I didn't think I'd be so emotional. I'm still crying every time I talk about it. I don't consciously feel sad, but the tears come anyway. Maybe it's a leftover autonomous reaction from all that therapy, or maybe it's a genuine emotion trying to express itself; I don't know. I'm not happy about it, though: it's making it harder for me to be matter-of-fact when talking about the whole thing, which makes me not talk about it, which makes it look like it bothers me more than I think it does. And yes, I know that it seems weird for something to bother me if I think it shouldn't, because being bothered ought to be in my head, but there is so much that is strange about this whole process that I've stopped keeping track.

The other thing, not so surprising but just as bothersome, is that I've been constantly changing my mind about things. Not about the divorce: I'm more and more pleased with that decision. But everything else: whether to sell all my furniture or just some, whether to buy an apartment or continue to rent, whether to get something large enough for a possible future roommate or small enough just for me, whether to go back to school or not, whether to go back to school in the same field as my current field or switch to something different. Yes, it's wonderful to have the world so open, but it's horrible not to be able to trust my decisions. I waver on all these things, making a decision and then completely changing my mind a week or a day later. It's not indecision - I'm intimately familiar with that particular state of mind - it's constantly changing priorities. Thus, I've decided not to make any big decisions or do anything new until after Rosh Hashana: give myself a little time to settle down.

Other than that, I'm doing great.

Alone

There is something freeing about divorce. I still wish I wasn't in this place, but in some ways, it is a very comfortable place to be. It's full of awkward moments and uncomfortable discussions, but it means that I've already done pretty much the most socially unacceptable thing that I'm prepared to do. Yes, there are many worse behaviors than getting divorced - chillul Shabbos or having a one night stand would be exponentially worse for my reputation - but since those are generally also terrible stains on my soul, I'm not prepared to actually do those things. The worst ta'avah I'm likely to give in to is eating chalav stam, and frankly, since I don't technically belong to a household anymore, I can just change my minhag. Frappacino, here I come. If I ever get over the Jewish guilt about OU-D.

I'm definitely feeling better physically. Two years of stress is horrible on the body. I'm not doing so well mentally yet, but it's not the same type of mental stress as before. Now it's lawyers who don't call back except when they want money. It's dealing with insurance companies who won't pay claims. It's trying to get through a long list of painful and tedious tasks to tie up loose ends for a few years of my life. These are all short term stresses, though, and I am fully confident that I will get everything done.

Of course, once these short term stresses are cleared up, I'll have the old pre-marriage stresses of "you're frum, you're getting older, you need to be married" come crashing right back down. But this time, I can say I want my own apartment, I don't want to be right in the thick of societal pressures, I don't want to see and be seen. I can get away with a lot more, since I've been through a trauma and a stigmatizing event. The trauma explains my unwillingness to get back into the social scene and the meat market, and the stigma allows me to do other unconventional things. Living outside my parents' home is not as bad as being divorced. Watching TV is not as bad as being divorced. Going to Broadway shows is not as bad as being divorced. The examples abound, and it means I'm actually more free now to explore what life I am comfortable living than I ever was. Granted, there are still a whole host of things I want to do that I still won't do because of religious concern, but the vast world of merely socially unacceptable things has become so much more accessible to me.

Anger

I have a lot of guilt regarding the failure of my marriage. After all,
the man I married was pretty much everything I wanted. And I still
want. The only reason we couldn't make things work was that I wasn't
happy. He couldn't make me happy. Semantics. I feel guilty.

Anger helps. It's not real anger; it more of a sad, frustrated
disappointment. Maybe disillusionment? I'm not angry, per se, at my
husband, although I think he bears some of the blame for this
disaster. First and foremost in the list of his mistakes was valuing
his Rosh Yeshiva more than his wife. That pretty much doomed the
relationship. But I can't fault him for that completely; it is a sad
but true fact that today's yeshiva world encourages young men to put
yeshiva before family. First they destroy the parents' authority, then
they minimize the wife's credibility. It works fine if the wife is
willing to submit to the Rosh Yeshiva's will, and luckily, a lot of
Bais Yaakov girls are. Poor me; I wasn't. I thought I married someone
who understood the importance of making (and taking responsibility
for) one's own decisions, but it turned out not to be so.

I'm more angry with all the rabbanim and therapists who've been
involved in this. Pretty much all of them have said some version of "I
could have told you that this was doomed from the start" at some
point. Some of them say it multiple times, in multiple ways, and the
message is always the same: I was an idiot to get into this and I
should have seen that this marriage couldn't work. After all, they all
could see it, clear and obvious. Gee, thanks. How helpful. How
brilliantly observed: you see a couple in distress, and you can tell
they're not meant for each other. Such powerful insight. What about
the experts I consulted prior to the wedding, then? Why couldn't they
see it? Isn't da'as Torah da'as Torah? Or were those people just
idiots? What about family? Why didn't any of them see it? (And trust
me, my family wouldn't have been shy if they didn't approve of my
choice. They might not have stopped me, but they'd have said
something.)

My family's been amazing: no "I told you so"s, no recrimination.
Everyone's been supportive so far. Of course, they all knew I was
miserable for a long time, so maybe they're just glad to see the end
of that. Or maybe they're saving the recriminations for when I'm a
little less emotionally fragile.

Mostly, I'm angry at myself. I know hindsight is 20/20, but I saw some
of the signs before the wedding. Why didn't I realize they were
meaningful and not brush them off as things that would improve with
time? And why wasn't I able to get over them and let them get better
with time? I'm a master at beating an issue to death; I'll be doing a
lot of self-flagellation in the next few months.

But mostly I know that no one's to blame. It's just how things are. It
truly saddens me to live in a world where this is how things are, but
we've somehow let our society develop into this. I don't know how to
fix it, and frankly, I don't know that I want to: the people who made
this mess deserve to live with it. The unfair part is that they're not
suffering for it: I am. I'm suffering for a world I didn't create and
don't approve of. Olum hafuch, indeed. þ

--
Sent from my mobile device

Pieces

Well, the tale is almost over. The end we've all seen coming, I'm
somewhat sorry to say. All that's left is paperwork and picking up the
pieces and figuring out where to go from here. I hope not too many of
you were rooting for this, but here it is.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Thoughts

I read Tova's post about my blog, and the sympathy in it is touching.
She picked up on a lot of truths about my life - and there's a whole
lot of pain and suffering in those truths. But there are other truths
in my life: I have a good job, a profession that can be a career, and
I'm really good at it. I get to do all sorts of fun things, like serve
as a subject matter expert and speak at conferences. Really stokes the
ego. I also have a wonderful, supportive family. I have dreams, and
every so often - even amid the misery that is eclipsing everything
else - I take baby steps toward my dreams. My life is not all bad, and
it's not hopeless. The reason I may seem hopeless here is because this
blog is where I let out my pain. I started this blog so that others
who fell into the "you're in your mid-20's; you must get married" trap
would have something to tell them they're not alone. I looked for that
when I first realized my marriage was a shambles, and I couldn't find
anything, so I decided to create it. That's what this is, above all
else. In large part, it exists so that people - like Tova, although
her situation isn't my primary target demographic - can know that it
could be worse.

I'm not a pushover, either. I'm still in this marriage for a lot of
reasons. Some of them are fear - of unknowns as well as social stigma
- but some, I like to think, are practicalities. Things like
technicalities of NY and NJ divorce law residency requirements, for
one. Also - sort of practical philosophy - would my life ultimately be
better if I got out? I'm not convinced that it would, and I'm not
ready yet for another blind leap of faith. Here's the problem, you
see: I still believe in Torah and its precepts. I still believe that
there is a higher purpose to my existence than a fulfilling career and
real estate ownership. And if Torah says that higher purpose is having
a family, well, I haven't ever heard any better ideas, so I'll hang on
to that rather than slipping into the oblivion of existentialism. I
have lots of issues with the frum system, and maybe I'll get around to
blogging some of my thoughts on that, but that was never the point of
this blog. This post is only for those of you asking "why hasn't she
thrown in the towel yet?" I haven't thrown in the towel because I
don't judge Judaism by Jews (that's for you, again, Tova), and I care
about my immortal soul more than I care about my pleasure or even
comfort in this world. I might not like everything that frum society
has become, but it represents the closest thing I can find to sharing
my own values.

I'll be okay if I get a divorce; I know that. I'm the one with the
skills and the income, and I can handle not having a husband to come
home to. And if anyone tries to drain me in a divorce settlement, the
kid gloves come right off. Negotiating with tough people is a large
part of my job description. The social stigma will bother me, but I'll
be okay there too, I think. I have enough friends from "fringe"
elements of frum society that I think it won't be held too much
against me. So I think I can be okay. But it's still not something I
want to do, for various reasons. I know some of you think that makes
me weak or indecisive, and you may even be right. But there are lots
of pieces playing in to my choices, and some of them have merit.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Focus

Have I mentioned how much I hate status quo? I have stagnated. Not
only am I not doing anything new or growth-oriented, I'm not even
keeping up on the interesting things I used to do. All my energies are
focused on solving an issue that doesn't really seem soluble.

Sex therapy has shifted focus to more normal couple's or relationship
therapy. While it's true that sex is probably not the cause of the
relationship problem, and so the therapist is probably right to shift
the focus, I think that sex is probably the biggest impediment to
being able to move the marriage forward or for us to hang in long
enough to fix the more fundamental problems. After all, every
relationship - every person - has problems, and familiarity can help.
We already know the things that annoy us about each other, and I can
handle most of them: I've been handling them for quite a while now.
But sex and intimacy - those are the things that I can't get over on
my own. Those are the things I need help with resolving. I don't need
to pay $200 an hour to be told about active listening or tolerance for
nail-biting.

Is the therapist right that it's not worth it to work on sex without
fixing the relationship? Is she right that learning to understand each
other better is more beneficial? Right now, I'm not convinced that
she's right, but wouldn't I be a fool to pay for her advice and then
to ignore it?

--
Sent from my mobile device

Two-Sided

Today I spoke strongly (I'll hesitate at "yelled") to my husband's Rosh Yeshiva, asking why I am the only one who is being asked to compromise and change. My husband seems to want to be married to me; "nichnas yayin, yatzah sod": drunk on Purim, he seemed more in love than ever. So why is it so hard for him to try to change to be someone I would want to be with? He's been telling me for a long time that there's nothing he can do - that his RY tells him there's nothing he can do - but I've maintained throughout that it takes two to make - or break - a relationship. It can't be all me. Maybe it's not proportionate responsibility, but there are two people involved.

So I spoke to the RY and I said that of course there's something my husband can do: he can take some steps to meet me in the middle. If he'd be willing to grow up and take on responsibility for a baby, why not do it now to try to save the marriage? I've said it many times, but I've also said that I don't want him to do it for me: I want him to want to do it. But now, I think he should do it whether he wants to or not. Grow up. Grow a pair. If you have goals, start doing something to achieve them. Take a course. Get a degree. If you're scared of college - and think about what that means; you're married to a college graduate who's very proud of that achievement - then try Torah U'Mesora or COPE or Touro or whatever. There are options. But do something. Take a stand. Be a man!

I don't want to let some doctors do procedures that may improve my technical abilities to have sex; I don't like letting people mess with things in my body without a darn good reason. But I'm considering it, because the possibility of the total ruin of my life as I know it is a pretty good reason to me. But if I'm giving that, I need to know that my husband's level of commitment is at least more than "I love you". I don't think he will lose anything by getting started on his preparations for "real life"; no matter how this ends, I think it's in his best interest to grow up and to have some accomplishment under his belt. And I need him to do something, even against his will. I need there to be two people involved in this. I shouldn't have married an adolescent, and I don't want to divorce one. I don't know if I can ever really respect or feel love for this person, but at least let's take a shot at making him into a man - an adult, a responsible human being, the person he could be in ten years who I could theoretically be married to ten years from now.

Wishy Washy

I can’t understand my own mind, so I guess it’s a good thing I have a shrink. Although I haven’t gotten the impression that she understands it either. And since I can’t afford two sets of private, not-covered-by-insurance therapy sessions, I may not have a shrink that much longer.

This foray into sex therapy has been an eye opener, and we haven’t even started anything remotely sexual. It’s just that the therapist has clearly dealt with issues that are at least similar to mine, and it seems to me that if this therapy can fix the technical problems, then there will be nothing left to blame for my unhappiness except for my own unwillingness to “make things work”. And since I’ve committed to this course of action, I’m going to go through with it, but I don’t really want to. I just want everything to work out happily ever after, but I don’t really want to live this life. I’m not really sure what I do want. I told this to the therapist during my individual session, and she was all, “Well, why am I going to put all this effort into reconciling you too if you’re not fully committed?” I was thinking of saying, “Because I’m paying you all this money”, but I didn’t. Instead, I brought up the point that if I’m willing to put in the effort, so should she be.

I am getting a bit scared of the sex therapy; I’m not sure I want to go through with this. I’m not sure I’m willing to do all these things, and not sure I want to do them with this partner. I’ve never quit or gone back on my word, but for all that I’m saying I’m committed to this course of action, it’s a bit like my whole marriage: I really want it to work out and solve my problems, but I’m not sure I can go through with it. I’m going to play things by ear: never give up until you’re sure you’re ready to give up, because once you threaten to pull out, things are never the same, even if you do make it work.

First

The first time I got flowers from a guy was when I was 14 or 15, working for the summer in an office. One of the guys in the office, who was probably in his mid-20's at the time, made no secret of the fact that he liked me. Or maybe he was just messing with me, since he knew I was a repressed, shy frum girl. But I'm pretty certain that it was a real crush. It was certainly flattering: my first experience with the power of womanhood. He left me notes, he changed my screensaver to running complimentary text, he came by to chat. He tried to touch me, even though he knew I was shomeres negiah. And on my last day that summer, he bought me a lovely bouquet. Like I said, it was flattering, and a bit intoxicating, but it was also a bit creepy for a guy about ten years older than me to be hitting on me, a teenager who had barely ever even talked to a boy. Yes, this guy was frum, so he knew exactly what he was doing.

I remember feeling at the time that I didn't want the first time I got flowers from a guy to be from someone who made me feel slightly dirty. I tried convincing myself that the flowers were from the office, but I know that wasn't true: they were from him. So that was my first "first time" in a male-female relationship.

My next first time - at least, the next one I can think of as a milestone - was my first date. I really had no idea what I was doing. I don't remember all that much; I tend to forget things like this unless there's something distinctly memorable. I remember that it was cold, much too cold for a walk in the park, and I remember lots of intellectual discussion. I also remember that he wasn't suave. I remember thinking that it was a good shidduch, but I don't remember why I said no. But I did. Anyhow, not all that memorable.

I don't remember my first date with my husband. I do remember the proposal, though: my extreme discomfort and acceptance of what felt inevitable. I remember the vort, and one of my work colleagues' comments upon seeing the pictures after all: she told me I looked shell-shocked. In hindsight, she was probably right.

I remember the wedding. I had a great time at my wedding; everything except the chuppah and yichud room was fun. I'm enough of a girly girl to enjoy gowns and photo shoots and dancing and everyone focused on me. And the food was good.

I remember the hotel after the wedding. I was a nervous wreck. I had no idea what I was doing, and no lust - or desire of any sort - to help overcome the nervousness. That was not fun, not at all. It was more of a business transaction than a wedding night: we have an obligation to consummate this marriage, so let's get it done. Way for a first time - the first time everyone thinks of when they talk about a girl's first time.

Are there any firsts left that haven't been contaminated?

Still

I don’t even know what to say anymore. It still seems so amazing how completely I have destroyed – my life? Myself? Both, I suppose. I’m a mess.

No one is saying the word divorce; it’s too taboo. Still, there are words like “end” and “final” and “resigned” and “last hope” being thrown around. The last hope, per the rosh yeshiva making the suggestion, is sex therapy. No one is all that confident that it would make a difference, although I think we all doubt for different reasons. I doubt the usefulness of sex therapy because there’s too much other baggage in the relationship. The rosh yeshiva doubts because he doesn’t think that the problem is really sex; he thinks we’re recreationally and ideologically incompatible. I can’t get a fix on what my husband thinks about it, because he says he’s already psyched himself up for the end of the relationship, and he doesn’t know if he can handle getting his hopes up again. Then he said that he’s concerned that even if we work things out now via therapy, he’s concerned that my fundamental inability to be happy would just destroy the marriage later. He also says he still loves me. I’m not sure what to make of that: he loves a girl who constantly rejects him physically and who he thinks is seriously flawed mentally and emotionally. If this was TV, I’d say that true love can’t be explained. But this isn’t TV, this is a yeshiva guy. I’m not buying true love or love at first sight. So maybe I am emotionally flawed. Or maybe I just don’t understand how someone could love me if I don’t love him; after all, we’ve got the same basis for love, pretty much. Except for the attraction thing, but that would make his feelings lust, not love. Does he even know the difference? I don’t think he allowed himself to feel lust before we got married, so how would he know what it feels like?

Anyhow, I’ve said I’m willing to try sex therapy, since by now I’m so traumatized about sex that I would probably need it no matter whether this marriage somehow miraculously works out or whether in the future I get remarried. And who knows if finally doing something together might not be the key that gets the relationship to work? It’s not like I want to get divorced, despite all this; the frum world is not a good place to be divorced. And who knows if I’ll get a second chance at having my own family. And even if I do, if I don’t know what I did wrong this time, how will I prevent myself from making the same mistake again?