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.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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?
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?
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