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.

--
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.