Focus

I wonder sometimes if too much focus causes the problems it's meant to eliminate. Or at least exacerbates them. All this talk, therapy, analysis, thought - and what does it accomplish? Well, it makes me think about my problems, define them clearly, pinpoint my frustrations. I'm not sure how that's supposed to contribute to the experts' advice to "stop focusing on the negatives; focus on the positives." If you keep asking me what's bothering me and what's wrong with my life, I'm definitely going to be focusing on the negatives.

I'm nowhere near having all my problems magically disappear, but sometimes I feel like their importance is overplayed. Is it really so important to love your spouse, or is it enough to get along with him and learn to respect his better qualities? Is it really so important to enjoy sex, or is it enough to learn to go through the motions? Obviously, one shouldn't live one's whole life in limbo, but maybe it's okay for a while. I know my husband is a good guy and has the important qualities for a husband and father - is it really better for me to throw that away in the hopes of finding a person I'll like better? Is this about me, or about producing the next generation? What is the meaning of my life, anyway? Am I really better off in the long run if my spouse is a better sparring/debating/recreational partner? Do I care if our religious priorities are not quite the same if I know that his are probably better than mine?

It's not as if my issues in this marriage are the only frustrations in my life. My job has become unbelievably annoying. All the nice little details that made being severely underpaid worth it? Gone. My rapport with my boss? Fraying. My enjoyment of my coworkers? Everyone's fuse is shorter than it used to be. Maybe it's the increased workload, or the economic depression, or the much more frightening job market. Maybe it's the swine flu. The world is full of highly annoying and depressing facets that are just one more thing to absorb into life and deal with. Life moves on, no matter how much you wish it wasn't taking the direction that it's taking. Mostly, these things are out of your control, and you somehow figure out how to cope.

So why is it that I think my marriage is different? I am definitely willing to admit that it was hashgacha that got me to the chupah; there's really no other way to explain it. I can't think of any decided actions on my part that brought things to a head - the shidduch took on a life of its own. Getting engaged, married, moving to Lakewood - these are all just new challenges, like my new project at work and my boss's newly short temper. Sometimes I feel like I should just stop trying to solve my problems and get on with life.

Epiphanies

I'm still here. I survived Pesach, and all the togetherness that it entails. I even survived the Chol Hamoed trips, although I learned that there are some things I may not be willing to do ever again, even in the name of shalom bayis. Much too hard on my nerves. I'm learning to be more selfish, and last night, my newest therapist told me that it's not only okay, but important for me to focus on myself more and not push myself too hard. Ah, validation.

I almost didn't go to the new therapist last night. When I first called to make the appointment, I was my (now normal) basket-case self. But over the last weekend, I had the latest in a series of epiphanies that I've been having ever since the full extent of my misery sank in. Every so often, I would suddenly see things in a new way; I'd start to wonder, "Why didn't I ever realize that before?" Of course, once the thrill of discovery wore off - or if I tried to share my epiphany with anyone else - I'd realize that I hadn't actually realized anything new. It was all the same things I'd known all along, but perhaps I was seeing new connections between old facts or new perspectives on old information. It's that magic "Aha!" moment. It's what I keep telling my husband can't be forced. Yes, I know in my brain that you're a wonderful person and perfect in every way (that was sarcasm, fyi - I'd better clarify before you commentors start bashing my lack of reality), but I don't feel that you're perfect for me, and I'm not in love with you. Even if I'd like to make myself love you, I can't. You can't force yourself to feel something. But every so often, something clicks inside of you, and suddenly you do feel - well - different, at least. Something changes inside you. It's probably what falling in love feels like, not that I'll ever know from my own experience. You see, what happened over this weekend was that I realized that it's entirely possible that the reason I couldn't find anything wrong with my husband or relationship - nothing concrete to tell the therapists and rabbis and concerned family members - is because there is nothing to tell. The reason it all looked good on paper is because it is good on paper. But I'm just not the type of person who is going to change my identity all that quickly based on paper. I need to feel certain things to be able to do certain things, and - barring falling in love or other strong narcotics - I'm not going to magically start feeling differently just because some stranger put a ring on my finger. I know it's been a while since that magic moment, and so I should have had time for all the good things to fall into place, but the stress that my marriage has been under pretty much since Day 1 kind of held everything in status quo. Of course, there's now a whole lot of baggage that wasn't there before, but also we've both changed in a lot of ways, so it might be possible to try starting over and this time do everything much, much more slowly, to give things a chance to develop a bit more naturally. It's certainly worth a try. At the worst, I'll still be where I am now, but I'll know myself much better. It's going to be tricky, because I'm not sure I can tell my husband about this epiphany - that might ruin all the development till now, because if I give back hope, he may revert to his old, super-confident, super-clingy, super-optimistic self. But of course, if I don't tell him, then he may give up on the whole thing, and that would certainly also defeat the purpose of trying again.

It's so funny how people -including, sometimes, me - insist on trying to pin problems on external factors. "She wasn't really committed to kollel." True, but I don't have a problem with kollel either. I think it's a wonderful idea, although not for everyone. Is it for me? Maybe. (Terrible answer to give to a shadchan - don't ever, ever say it.) "She should have married an older/ more experienced/ more mature/more ambitious guy." I probably would have had less trouble connecting to and respecting such a person, but I think it would have come with a different set of issues. Put two type A's in a small Lakewood apartment and wait for the fireworks. "She shouldn't live in Lakewood." Okay, no arguments there, but it's not like I have a problem with living in Lakewood, other than the fact that it's the middle of nowhere. And there really aren't all that many good options for where to move.

No, for me, the whole thing is about how I feel about the person I'm irrevocably bound to. If I'm connected to him, I can support whatever lifestyle I have to. Of course I'd rather not have to work, live in a mansion without a mortgage, be free to travel the world, not have to worry about bills. But assuming that I know why I'm doing what I'm doing - assuming I have a goal that I'm happy about - I can accomplish anything.

The best part about my latest epiphany isn't even so much that it put some hope back into my marriage. The best part is that I have regained my confidence in myself. All those people who are telling me that I'm terribly flawed and psychologically disturbed - I know with confidence that they're wrong. Maybe I work differently from most people, and maybe I wasn't sure quite how to express that so that I could help those who are completely different from me relate to me, but there's nothing wrong with me, and I won't let anyone take away that knowledge again.

Perfect

We're back to the whole theory vs. reality problem.

From the beginning, he was perfect. Perfect on paper, a perfect gentleman, perfect midos, just perfect. I remember using that description, crying, while debating whether to get engaged. I was still saying, "But he's perfect!", still crying, throughout the engagement. I knew, of course, that nothing is ever perfect, and of course, he wasn't, but I could see the imperfections, and they all seemed manageable, so that, too, was perfect.

Now he's still perfect: he's the one who's perfect, and I'm the one who's flawed. It's been agreed by enough people: I have the emotional problems that are serious; his emotional problems are not standing in the way of a healthy relationship. (Why is that, do you think? Because I'm lashing out and he's holding it in? Is denial healthier than misery?) He's the one willing to do anything; I'm the one who's not trying hard enough. He's even holding on beyond his end-of-the-rope because he's worried what divorce would do to me - how it would be harder on me than on him to be twenty-something and divorced. And he's right - that's two strikes for a girl, versus one for a boy. He's so sensitive, it's unbelievable. How can anyone be worthy of such perfection? How can anyone live with it?

At least he's finally denying his perfection; he used to take it as his due when I said "Okay, you're perfect, you're better than I am." Now he's showing some sign of realizing that it was generally sarcastic when I said things like that.

My problem is that this is the biggest thing in my life: what I do next in my marriage will impact the rest of my life. I want to do the right thing, or at least the best thing. If this is going to continue, I need a reason more than the ones that have been keeping me going for the last many months. If this is going to end, I need closure, and that means being able to convince myself that all that theory isn't true. As long as I think that it can and should work out the way the whole world assumes that it is working, I won't be able to find that closure.

Drugs and Alcohol

No, this is not about anything illegal. This is about solutions. You wouldn't believe how many (or which!) rabbis have advised me to use alcohol to "get in the mood" - not only for sex, for for cheerfulness in general. And yes, sometimes I do follow that advice. However, I still feel pretty strongly that a problem that is best dealt with using drugs and/or alcohol is probably a problem that needs a different solution. I can't say, "Yes, I'll stay married if I can just stay drunk." It would make my job way more difficult, among other things. Alcohol is not a solution, even when it tastes good.

Drugs, then. Well, since I first realized that I didn't think this would work, I've been on birth control. Oral birth control, as everyone knows, is basically hormone therapy. Girls have lots of hormones, and the gender as a whole is pretty well known for mood swings and such even when there is nothing artificial going on in the body. All girls have "times of the month", and all the jokes - frum and not - agree that women change their minds and feelings for what seems to be no reason at all. Taking hormones can either regulate your cycle, and therefore your mood swings, or it can do nothing for your mood, or it can cause depression, anxiety, and a host of other problems.

And other drugs? My husband went through cycles of wanting me to take an anti-depressant. I even considered it for a while; it was only the fact that the psychiatrist who my psychologist recommended kept not calling back so that I could schedule an appointment. I would have moved on to a different doctor, but by the time I gave up on the recommended one, I wasn't convinced that anti-depressants would really help.

It took me a while to think that maybe, just maybe, the birth control was affecting my attitude to my marriage. I'll admit that. I was miserable before I started taking the pills - in fact, my misery was the reason I started with birth control - and I didn't really think that the pills were contributing or prolonging or having anything to do with my mental and emotional state. I'm still not convinced that they are, because I can be happy and pleasant and my old normal self when I'm at work or hanging out (alone) with friends; I only fall apart when I'm with my husband or being asked to talk about my marital problems. Then, I cry, with very little preliminaries anymore. Other than that, my mood has normal fluctuations: sometimes I'm in a good mood, and sometimes I'm in a bad mood. Granted, my bad moods are more and more frequent than they used to be, and they tend to be worse, but they're not constant. They do mean that I have a much harder time dealing with the usual disappointments of life, things that I used to be able to handle with no trouble at all, but they're not constant. There are times when I'm in a better mood, and that carries me through even the painful, depressing things. They're still painful and depressing, but I don't fall apart.

Every time a commentor shortens my pseudonym to "bi", I think "bipolar". Is that what I am? But bipolar people also have manic moods - extreme happiness. I haven't been extremely anything, except miserable, since I got married; my life is pretty serious. My issues are serious, anyway.

So therapy, then. I'm not afraid to admit that I have problems. I'm not afraid to go to a therapist. I do think that it makes more sense to work through issues within marriage rather than get divorced, work through issues, and try again - but only if the marriage itself has potential. I can see potential in my marriage whenever I'm not around my husband. I can see all the potential in theory, in my head, even in my discussions with rabbis and therapists. I see the value; I know it's there. It's only that I don't feel convinced when I'm with my husband; then, all the doubts coming crashing down. I don't know if it's lack of attraction, or depression, or what. I don't know if it's this marriage, or something within me. How am I supposed to find that out if our entire past history is dragging heavy and not allowing any room for personal exploration?

Conviction

I know that I've had commitment issues since Day 1, but they haven't stayed the same throughout this journey that we call my marriage. At first, the only commitment I had trouble with was the emotional bond with my husband. Admittedly, significant - but not unworkable. I knew that I wasn't fully committed before I got married; in fact, various rabbis and advisors knew this, too, and didn't seem to think that this was a serious problem. "It'll come later." Major issue, but supposedly common enough and not a serious impediment to relationship building.

That doubt didn't go away, and the situation, as you know, didn't get better. It got worse. The doubt began to creep into everything: my religious conviction (How could everything go so wrong if it was all done with such good intentions and proper guidance?), my belief in the institution of marriage, my suitability for a long-term relationship, my purpose in life. It's quite fascinating, if you're a sociologist or something. Less fun if it's your life, and you've started thinking about trains and anti-depressants.

Anyhow, just very recently, it hit me again. (I was going to leave off the "again", but I'm discovering that many of the thoughts that I think are new are actually old; it's just that I don't remember things well anymore. Probably due to stress and an inability to focus.) I keep saying that I am prepared to do whatever it takes to solve this, but what solution am I aiming for? I'm not convinced that being married to my husband is the best route for me; I'm just too scared of being divorced. Also, if I want a divorce, there's no "work to be done". It's a decision - ask for a get - and then it's over. I guess I can't quite resign myself to quitting, even though I want to be out of this. And of course, there's still the social and religious conscience that says to me that I should try to save my marriage if I can. And there's also the fact that I don't want to be a failure. Similar to the "I'm not a quitter" thing.

We've started with yet another counselor, and he's advising similar things to what the first (or second; I've lost track) one did. At the time, with him talking, I was all, "Yes, I'll do whatever it takes", and I meant it. But then I got home, and I felt like - haven't we already been down this road? And last time, it didn't make things "marginally better", which I believe is the goal; it made things worse. Also, it's a very hard thing that they're asking of me, and maybe I'm too lazy for it. Or maybe I just resent that it is, once again, me who's being asked to do something very difficult for me, while my husband gets to "hang in there". He doesn't have to do anything; in fact, what I'm supposed to be doing is exactly what he wants me to be doing, even though I don't want to do it. So even though I felt like the new counselor did understand the situation, I can't help feeling that it's unfair to me to make all these demands of me. But then, all men think a certain way; I guess it's hard-wired. Maybe I should get another female counselor, but I really disliked the last one. Or maybe they're just right, and I'm resisting because I don't like being wrong. Or because it's just hard, and I'm lazy.

Is it fair to me to destroy my self-esteem in the name of saving a marriage that I don't even believe in?

Blame Game

In the last post's comments, someone brought up the subject of blame, so I thought I'd talk about it a bit.

There’s a big difference between blaming someone/something for a situation and examining it as a cause of that situation. Maybe this is just semantics, but I think the point is worth making. Since it’s hard to make this point without devolving into a vague set of undefined terms, I’ll start with the example.

Let’s say you stayed up too late last night doing something unproductive, like watching TV. Thus, you’re too tired to really work properly today, and everything feels like it takes twice as long as it should. Everyone has had days like that, right? Familiar situation.

Okay. Who’s to blame? You are. Not the TV. Still, the TV can be identified as a cause of the problem, which is your fatigue and inability to work to your full potential. It was your stupid decision to watch TV to all hours; it’s your fault. If you want to punish someone or something, you don’t take a hammer to the TV. You punish yourself, probably by creating some sort of TV ban for a while.

In the above example, we’ve identified blame, cause, problem, and punishment.

Let’s change the scenario, without changing the problem. You’re still too tired to do your work today. However, the reason is that you had a baby last month, and you had to wake up every hour to feed it. Now who’s to blame? The baby? You, for getting pregnant? G-d, for allowing the miracle of new life? No one’s to blame. Thus, there’s no need for punishment. There’s still a problem, and it still has a cause, though.

In neither case did we identify a solution to the problem. There are many possible solutions that we can think of: taking catnaps during the day, going to sleep earlier at night, imbibing large quantities of caffeine. Interestingly, all these solutions apply to both cases, since the problem is the same. These are generic solutions, independent of cause. Cause is not the same as blame; blame never has anything to do with solution. Cause does. Blame may serve as catharsis for feelings of guilt, but it never contributes to solving the problem. Identifying the cause, however, often suggests new solution possibilities. Some cause-specific solutions for our examples are getting rid of the TV so that you have one less thing distracting you from bed (although we all know you’ll just substitute something else), in the first case, or hiring a night nurse, in the second case. These solutions don’t apply to both cases, since they are cause-specific. Still, they are solutions, not catharsis. There are also drastic solutions that mentally ill people might consider, like killing the baby. This one is considered pretty extreme and not in keeping with the magnitude of the problem. It’s not a good solution, but it’s still a solution.

Coming back to my own situation, you may be right. I may be blaming all sorts of things other than myself (although I think I blame myself plenty) – and that might help me deal with all this by providing catharsis. That’s similar to the purpose of this blog, or seeing a therapist. I need to get the mental anguish out, or I’ll go crazy.

But I think that most of the time when I’m looking at things outside myself to explain my quandary, it’s about cause, because I’m looking for solutions. Saying that I am the cause of my problem is well and good – and true – but frankly, I don’t know how to extrapolate a solution from that. On the other hand, if I look at, for example, my living situation as a partial cause of the problem, I can find a solution: move. I’m looking for these partial causes because partial solutions would still improve the situation, even if they can’t completely fix it. This is one of those pieces of advice that actually makes sense to me: change as much as you can, do as many little things as you can, and maybe, just maybe, that will have an impact on your perception of the situation at large. And since my emotional commitment is largely a matter of my perception, and improving my emotional state would eventually contribute to a complete solution, I think it’s worthwhile to keep looking at the little things. Don’t worry, though – I still spend plenty of time in mental self-flagellation.

Anticipation

The frum blogosphere is full of tirades from both men and women, frum and OTD, regarding taharas hamishpacha. Yes, this is another one. I think my perspective on the subject is somewhat unusual, but of course that may just be ego talking.

A few months ago, I would have told you that I don't mind keeping taharas hamishpacha; in fact, I was grateful for the mandatory respite from sex. Imagine - two whole weeks when he can't even ask me! Two whole weeks without worry! Gevaldik!

That's not how I feel anymore, though. I've started feeling that taharas hamishpacha is contributing to my dislike of intimacy. The halachos of taharas hamishpacha - and yes, that so-welcome mandatory respite - are contributing to my feeling objectified. I feel like we don't even have a chance to work on developing an emotional bond or a friendship that would make me happier to be bound to this person for the rest of my life: our relationship is halachicly focused on sex, on the woman's sexual cycle. The woman is a sex object, no matter how chivalrous the man is. No matter how much he pretends - or even tries - to focus on the woman's other qualities, the most important part of their relationship is going to be focused on whether or not he can touch her.

I am makpid on negiah. At work, where I spend my day mostly with goyim, I am very careful to avoid touching men. Although it's not particularly comfortable, especially in my line of work, I refuse to shake hands with people. I ask them not to touch me in platonic ways. Still, I'll admit that if it's something that the person clearly didn't even notice doing, and it's unlikely to ever happen again, I sometimes let things slide. I know that my husband is not going to be embarrassed or unhappy if I point out his own infractions while I'm a nidah, but I'll admit that there are times when I let those slide, too. If he passes me something without thinking about it, or if we forget to put a heker on the table, and I notice, sometimes I say something, and sometimes I don't. To be honest, sometimes I forget some of the harchakos. Not the negiah ones, but the heker and things like that. Sometimes I forget. Never that I'm a nidah, but sometimes that I'm not supposed to do something. I'm pretty good, but I'm not perfect. And it doesn't even bother me to slip up on these things; I'm having a lot of trouble appreciating the beauty in taharas hamishpacha.

Anyhow, my point is that since sex is not a part of anyone's relationship at the office, and since I don't believe I'm viewed as a sexual object in that setting, I don't focus on touch in building relationships - and neither do the people with whom I work. We build healthy, functional working relationships - and yes, friendships - without sexual undertones. No, I would never have considered marrying any of them, and no, sex never enters my mind as the natural progression of a close relationship, but still - I don't even think the men in my office think of that as a primary part of our relationships. Even the ones who like me and think I'm pretty. Even the ones who consider me a friend. (All right, I got pretty good at sending out "keep away" messages during college. I don't think any of them think of me as a good possibility for a relationship. Or even thought of me that way prior to my marriage.) Thus, I feel justified in believing that not all men think about women in a sexual context at all times. In fact, I'd be willing to say that most men are capable of thinking about other things than sex.

So I'm forced to assume that this seeming obsession by young frum married men with sex is caused, at least in part, by taharas hamishpacha. Imagine being forbidden any sort of sexual outlet for the 20-odd years leading up to marriage, and then only being able to think about sex 50% of the time. We're talking about young human men who have spent a lot of time working to develop their minds. They are hit with a whole new set of halacha when they get married, and they think about it non-stop. Horny newlywed kollel guys? Blame taharas hamishpacha. Maybe a more casual attitude to things like "affectionate touching" - within the bounds of marriage; I'm not advocating throwing out negiah - would cause fewer horniness issues.

All that horniness, I think, is one of the things that is hindering my ability to build a relationship with my husband. I don't see him as sexually attractive at all, and there are some things that I could finger as distinct turn-offs. If I'm trying to build a sex-based relationship here, there's really pretty much no hope. And I can't build a platonic relationship, because my every day is a constant reminder of my nidah or non-nidah status, and we are forced to constantly think about our sexual relationship. Either I'm counting the days I'm menstruating, or I'm counting the days I stick a cloth up where really I'd prefer to have nothing at all going, or I'm anticipating requests for some sort of sex and either trying to force myself into willingness or trying to come up with valid new excuses why I'm not willing. There is never a vacation. I'm always on duty, and I'm always feeling like an object.

I can't say I look forward to mikvah night. I don't find the mikvah a humiliating experience, but I don't enjoy it. I don't see it as a spiritually uplifting experience. I don't sense a profound direct connection to G-d when I'm standing in the pure waters of the mikvah. I try to daven for a better connection with my husband, hoping against hope that my kallah teacher is right and there is a special power to tefillos from the mikvah. I do it, because I feel like it's the right thing, and there's always this tiny hope that it will work.

The last time I went to mikvah, I took along a book to read in the tub. I managed to get myself in a much better mood than I ever had prior to sex. It lasted until I got home, and then the good feeling evaporated. But still, that one time, I looked forward to mikvah night. Why? Not because I eagerly awaited a reunion with a special person, but because I was finally in a mood where I'd be able to handle my duties, and if I could do them that night, I'd be off the hook for a while. Somehow, I don't think that's the anticipation that halacha had in mind.