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.