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

--
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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.

--
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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.

--
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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?

--
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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?

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.

--
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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.