Marriage without sex
Saturday, February 20, 2010 at 7:20AM It is unbelievably hard for me to go through my memories, and it is even harder for my husband, who suddenly lost the friend he has knows for so many years, and has to nurture a child that's one day 6 years old, another day 12, another day suicidal, and for months now, a woman that can't be touched, hugged, kissed, that turns away from any sign of affection, doesn't talk, doesn't look at his face, has panic attacks. A woman who isn't the same person he is used to. How hard it must be for him to not get any love from me - in any shape. Those few times that we did make love in the last several months, ended with me crying, slipping into depression, or, on the opposite, getting childishly giddy and encouraging, only to end abruptly, as soon as the actual act was initiated, maybe only once ending happily, without any negative consecuences for me.
It is hard to live without sex, and yet I don't see any way of ever wanting it again in my life. I know it will pass, I know this is only temporary, yet I'm terrified of my own body. What if it will decide to cut off that part of marriage and love completely? What if I will never ever want it again? My husband says that he is ready to wait for as long as it takes.
- What if it's year?
- Then it will be a year.
- And you won't leave me?
- I won't.
Still, I'm painfully aware of his longing and of my own inability to grant him anything at all, only glimpses here and there.
How did I do this before? Automatically. How did my body not remember before? It did, it always did, I just never paid any attention to it, I blocked it out, it was too terrible to face. Every time I would get aroused, my mind would just block my body from experiencing anything, as if my head was being cut off. From that moment on, it was a sport - can I do this to please him? Will he like it like that? Everything in my mind, nothing in the body. Everything about him, nothing about me. That is how I was raised and trained, that is what incest does to you.
I wonder how much the women's hysteria and psychosis so profoundly documented in the 19th century - called frigidity in 20 century - transformed into "go to a sexual therapist together, play games or buy sex toys" in 21st century - how much of that is really the result of those women being sexually abused as little girls, raised in patriarchal families where they were subject to overt and covert incest, in the former case merely by the power of the father and his control rendered forever unable to feel sexual or expereince pleasure, because they are not supposed to. I wonder.
I have to learn to love myself again, to look into the mirror and not be afraid of looking like a woman, not trying to hide behind boy clothes or short hair cuts (maybe, if I look like a boy, my father won't hurt me?). It is very hard, as there is not a support system for this sort of learning, except close friends who understand what I'm going through.
I would not be able to love myself at all, if not for my husband. When we met, he was the one who gave up his offer for a job in US (big deal when you're a poor programmer in Moscow), who told me he loves me and did this for me - nobody in my life gave up things for me before. I was floored. Honey, this is my love letter to you - thank you. Because of your love, I'm learning how to love myself - you have shown me the way. I love you. And I know we will get through this together.
Reader Comments (3)
I should say wow... You we're totally bound with principle.. I can't imagine how you were able to overcome those feeling of unwantedness.. I love your post... It's worth the read.. Thanks for sharing this awesome post here..
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