I have been fiercely independent for as long as I can remember. To the point of shunning chivalry and sometimes hurting myself because I was too stubborn to let anyone lighten my load, figuratively or literally.
Over the years I've learned to accept help a little more and even sometimes request it. I've learned that I'm not enough to take on the world all by myself. This used to scare me. Now that I've grown a bit and found some people I can trust, it is a bit of a relief. Because now I understand that I'm not meant to take the world on alone.
But one area I didn't seem to learn this was in my marriage. Oh, I did become interdependent with my husband. Especially financially when my health no longer allowed me to work outside the home. But there was still this I-could-get-by-without-you-I-don't-really-need-you thing left over from all those years of my independence and our struggles.
For so many years I have been his strength, his buffer. We both knew that if our marriage ended, as it looked like it would more than once, I would struggle financially but be okay otherwise; he would be a basket case and be lost without me.
But recently that's changed. We tend to pull together in crisis (thank heavens). So his job loss, while incredibly stressful in other ways, has been good for our relationship. We've become closer.
That's not the part that surprised me. The thing that surprised me is what happened during my last PTSD episode (which still isn't completely over, by the way, but is improving).
This last PTSD episode has included so much fear (it always does). It's tough for me to leave the house. It's hard to be around people. I'm claustrophobic. I don't want anyone to touch me or talk to me too much. I try not to visibly cringe when others come near me, but I definitely cringe inside. The nerves in my skin feel like they are all hyper-stimulated at once. My skin hurts. And the thought of someone touching me scares me like when someone comes up to slap your back when you have a bad sunburn.
None of that is new. I get that way every time my PTSD is triggered.
The interesting part is this. My husband has become my buffer. He gets between me and what scares me. Quite often. He'll take the conversation for me. He'll sit between me and others. He'll field phone calls and visits at the door when I just can't face them. I feel safer when he's with me. He's become my protector in a very real way.
For many of you, this may sound like a condition you've always had with your spouse. Why am I making a big deal of it? Because it's not something I've ever had with my husband. It's not something I've ever allowed. It's not something he's ever seen me need. Being protective isn't his natural response when I'm in trouble. He's seen me fight my own demons too many times to think I need him.
But this time I've needed him. And he's come through for me. As horrible as this episode has been, and continues to be, it's been worth it. Because it's allowed a new type of intimacy between me and my husband. I am so grateful for that.
Showing posts with label Intimacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Intimacy. Show all posts
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Friday, July 29, 2011
The Worst Day of My Life -- When My Husband Left the Church
I have wanted to write this post for a long time. I have also avoided writing this post for a long time.
It happened almost five years ago, but it is still so tender.
I worry that I won't be able to capture the devastation I felt. That I still feel when I think about it. Because, truthfully, I try not to think about it too often. It's still so painful.
Five years ago was a difficult time in my life. I was working. My health was getting worse. And my marriage was in trouble. We'd been in therapy for a while and things were getting better. At least, our relationship was getting better.
But it was at this time that my husband had a crisis of faith.
In order for this to make sense, you must know a few things about our faith. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). I have been my whole life. While there was a time when I was young that I followed along because it was all I knew, that's not what it is now. I have long since quit relying on the testimony of others. I am a member of this faith because it makes my heart happy. It brings me peace. I believe this is what I was taught before I came to this world.
One of the elements of our faith is a belief in a pre-earth life, this life, and a post-earth life. We believe this life is just a tiny portion of our existence. Most of what we do here is in preparation for the next life. As part of that, in our temples we perform ordinances that we believe carry on into the next life. In particular, sealings. We believe that if we are sealed together in the temple, and live the best life we can, that families can be together forever. We believe we are sealed for time and all eternity.
I believe this. And I grew up believing this. This is why I was careful about the boys I dated. This is why I chose to live my life according to God's commandments. As a child and teen, getting sealed in the temple to a worthy man who loved me was my main goal. I tried to do everything I'd been taught to make that happen.
And it did. I married a returned missionary who took me to the temple. We were sealed for time and all eternity. Because of this sealing power, our children were sealed to us also. There was such safety in knowing that.
When things got ugly between my husband and me, I knew that things would get sorted out with time and we could still be together forever. We would find our way back to God and would do so together.
And then he said he had questions. He wasn't sure anymore that certain parts of our faith were true. He shared his concerns, we talked about them, and he was reassured and found his footing again. Then he had more questions, bigger struggles. We worked through those, too. Then it went beyond questions and doubts. He came to a point where he no longer believed it was true. In fact, he felt it was harmful. He wanted out and he wanted to take his family with him. The months that we worked through this were incredibly difficult. It was hard not to push him to choose the church for me, to make me happy. Or for anyone else. I believe in honesty. He was honest with me and I am grateful for that.
He started blogging about his feelings, denouncing the church. He made accusations and claims that were anti-Mormon in nature. We were in counseling with our bishop (pastor) during this time. I told him of the blog. He discussed it with my husband and said that if it continued, because of the things he was writing (preaching against the church), his membership in the church would be in jeopardy. We returned to visit with him a month later, he asked about the blog and was told it was still up, my husband was still adding to it and had no intention of stopping. And we were at a decision point.
My husband was given two choices. He could withdraw his name from the church records or the bishop could start proceedings to have him removed. My husband asked which of these would be easier on the bishop. I admire that. My husband chose to have his name removed from the records of the church.
It had been a while coming and I thought I was prepared.
But the day the letter came saying that he was no longer a member of the church I died a little. My heart broke into a thousand pieces.
It came while he was at work. I called to tell him it was there. He asked me to open it and read it to him. I did. He said okay and that was that.
But not for me. I held that letter. I stared at it. It didn't matter that I knew it was coming; I was not prepared.
How would we tell the children? Our families? Our friends?
And what did this mean for me? I was unsure about who I was now. We had been one and now we were two. I was unsure about eternity now. I didn't know how I fit in. I didn't want the attention and sympathy that I knew I would receive. I fit into a new classification now. I was a woman married to a non-member.
It was the most lonely day I have ever experienced. I had this information that seemed to stop the world from spinning and I couldn't talk to anyone about it. The person I usually talked to about things that made me sad was my husband and he didn't understand. He was happy and relieved about it. I felt like a widow. I walked around in a daze that day. I cried a lot. I felt so lost.
I had a friend whose husband died around this time. I remember feeling like she was lucky because he was living a righteous life when he died and at least she knew her sealing was intact, she knew he would be waiting for her. I am ashamed of that feeling. I was jealous of her ending as opposed to mine.
It felt like an end.
He and I are in a better place. He is more kind about the church and the fact that the children and I still participate. But something is gone. There is a spiritual intimacy that is no longer there. It died that day. And I don't know if I will ever be done mourning its loss.
It happened almost five years ago, but it is still so tender.
I worry that I won't be able to capture the devastation I felt. That I still feel when I think about it. Because, truthfully, I try not to think about it too often. It's still so painful.
Five years ago was a difficult time in my life. I was working. My health was getting worse. And my marriage was in trouble. We'd been in therapy for a while and things were getting better. At least, our relationship was getting better.
But it was at this time that my husband had a crisis of faith.
In order for this to make sense, you must know a few things about our faith. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). I have been my whole life. While there was a time when I was young that I followed along because it was all I knew, that's not what it is now. I have long since quit relying on the testimony of others. I am a member of this faith because it makes my heart happy. It brings me peace. I believe this is what I was taught before I came to this world.
One of the elements of our faith is a belief in a pre-earth life, this life, and a post-earth life. We believe this life is just a tiny portion of our existence. Most of what we do here is in preparation for the next life. As part of that, in our temples we perform ordinances that we believe carry on into the next life. In particular, sealings. We believe that if we are sealed together in the temple, and live the best life we can, that families can be together forever. We believe we are sealed for time and all eternity.
I believe this. And I grew up believing this. This is why I was careful about the boys I dated. This is why I chose to live my life according to God's commandments. As a child and teen, getting sealed in the temple to a worthy man who loved me was my main goal. I tried to do everything I'd been taught to make that happen.
And it did. I married a returned missionary who took me to the temple. We were sealed for time and all eternity. Because of this sealing power, our children were sealed to us also. There was such safety in knowing that.
When things got ugly between my husband and me, I knew that things would get sorted out with time and we could still be together forever. We would find our way back to God and would do so together.
And then he said he had questions. He wasn't sure anymore that certain parts of our faith were true. He shared his concerns, we talked about them, and he was reassured and found his footing again. Then he had more questions, bigger struggles. We worked through those, too. Then it went beyond questions and doubts. He came to a point where he no longer believed it was true. In fact, he felt it was harmful. He wanted out and he wanted to take his family with him. The months that we worked through this were incredibly difficult. It was hard not to push him to choose the church for me, to make me happy. Or for anyone else. I believe in honesty. He was honest with me and I am grateful for that.
He started blogging about his feelings, denouncing the church. He made accusations and claims that were anti-Mormon in nature. We were in counseling with our bishop (pastor) during this time. I told him of the blog. He discussed it with my husband and said that if it continued, because of the things he was writing (preaching against the church), his membership in the church would be in jeopardy. We returned to visit with him a month later, he asked about the blog and was told it was still up, my husband was still adding to it and had no intention of stopping. And we were at a decision point.
My husband was given two choices. He could withdraw his name from the church records or the bishop could start proceedings to have him removed. My husband asked which of these would be easier on the bishop. I admire that. My husband chose to have his name removed from the records of the church.
It had been a while coming and I thought I was prepared.
But the day the letter came saying that he was no longer a member of the church I died a little. My heart broke into a thousand pieces.
It came while he was at work. I called to tell him it was there. He asked me to open it and read it to him. I did. He said okay and that was that.
But not for me. I held that letter. I stared at it. It didn't matter that I knew it was coming; I was not prepared.
How would we tell the children? Our families? Our friends?
And what did this mean for me? I was unsure about who I was now. We had been one and now we were two. I was unsure about eternity now. I didn't know how I fit in. I didn't want the attention and sympathy that I knew I would receive. I fit into a new classification now. I was a woman married to a non-member.
It was the most lonely day I have ever experienced. I had this information that seemed to stop the world from spinning and I couldn't talk to anyone about it. The person I usually talked to about things that made me sad was my husband and he didn't understand. He was happy and relieved about it. I felt like a widow. I walked around in a daze that day. I cried a lot. I felt so lost.
I had a friend whose husband died around this time. I remember feeling like she was lucky because he was living a righteous life when he died and at least she knew her sealing was intact, she knew he would be waiting for her. I am ashamed of that feeling. I was jealous of her ending as opposed to mine.
It felt like an end.
He and I are in a better place. He is more kind about the church and the fact that the children and I still participate. But something is gone. There is a spiritual intimacy that is no longer there. It died that day. And I don't know if I will ever be done mourning its loss.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Sex. Yes, Really.
Last week I posted an entry with Getting Intimate in the title. Yes, it was a tease. It lured some in with the belief that it would be about sex. Of course, it wasn't. And if you think sex is the only way to be intimate, you are really missing out.
But one of my friends called me out as a tease. So I said that I would write a blog about sex. Yes, it was kind of a rebellious, I can be bad, comment to him. But I said I'd do it -- so here goes.
Now let me say that I have given this a lot of thought. I have some teen readers. I have some single readers who are more nervous reading this than the teens. I pondered how and what I would write. I don't want to offend anyone, but I also don't want to pull any punches because of my audience.
This will not be R rated. But if you are under 18 and your parent or guardian would not be okay with you reading this, then it is your responsibility to respect that. I will write this in the same way that I would address it with my kids. However, I am more direct with my kids than most parents are, so I can't promise that you won't blush.
I could write salaciously, he touched her here and she felt this way. But I won't. Not only is that very much not my style, it's not how I feel about sex. I want to write about sex as I see it.
Just the word makes many people uncomfortable. It makes people giggle. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* If you are one of those people, get it out of your system now.
Sex is not something base. It is not ugly. It is not bad. It is not dirty. It is important. And not just for procreation.
Sexuality is a vital part of human nature; it's part of who we are. Who we are meant to be. And it is an important part of a couple's relationship.
Sex is not something you owe someone. Not anyone. Not ever. Not when you are dating. Not when you are a couple. Not when you are married. Not because they spent a lot of money on you. Not because it's the next step. Not because it's your job as a spouse. Not because it's what they want.
Sex is giving yourself to another person. If it is taken from you or you give it unwillingly it will affect you negatively; I believe it will injure your soul. It's more than physical. It's more than mechanical. It's psychological. It's spiritual. It's a part of you.
Sex should never be demanded. It should never be coerced through force, manipulation, or guilt. Persuasion, maybe sometimes. Coercion, never.
Sex can be an incredible thing. It is the ultimate physical bonding, becoming one. When two people choose to be intimate in this way, it can be a spiritual experience. It is powerful.
But like all power, it must be used wisely or it can be dangerous. It must be respected. Because it is a part of you.
And you are worth it.
But one of my friends called me out as a tease. So I said that I would write a blog about sex. Yes, it was kind of a rebellious, I can be bad, comment to him. But I said I'd do it -- so here goes.
Now let me say that I have given this a lot of thought. I have some teen readers. I have some single readers who are more nervous reading this than the teens. I pondered how and what I would write. I don't want to offend anyone, but I also don't want to pull any punches because of my audience.
This will not be R rated. But if you are under 18 and your parent or guardian would not be okay with you reading this, then it is your responsibility to respect that. I will write this in the same way that I would address it with my kids. However, I am more direct with my kids than most parents are, so I can't promise that you won't blush.
I could write salaciously, he touched her here and she felt this way. But I won't. Not only is that very much not my style, it's not how I feel about sex. I want to write about sex as I see it.
Just the word makes many people uncomfortable. It makes people giggle. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* If you are one of those people, get it out of your system now.
Sex is not something base. It is not ugly. It is not bad. It is not dirty. It is important. And not just for procreation.
Sexuality is a vital part of human nature; it's part of who we are. Who we are meant to be. And it is an important part of a couple's relationship.
Sex is not something you owe someone. Not anyone. Not ever. Not when you are dating. Not when you are a couple. Not when you are married. Not because they spent a lot of money on you. Not because it's the next step. Not because it's your job as a spouse. Not because it's what they want.
Sex is giving yourself to another person. If it is taken from you or you give it unwillingly it will affect you negatively; I believe it will injure your soul. It's more than physical. It's more than mechanical. It's psychological. It's spiritual. It's a part of you.
Sex should never be demanded. It should never be coerced through force, manipulation, or guilt. Persuasion, maybe sometimes. Coercion, never.
Sex can be an incredible thing. It is the ultimate physical bonding, becoming one. When two people choose to be intimate in this way, it can be a spiritual experience. It is powerful.
But like all power, it must be used wisely or it can be dangerous. It must be respected. Because it is a part of you.
And you are worth it.
Monday, April 12, 2010
I Love Getting Intimate
Verbally, that is.
I love the one-on-one conversation. Face to face. Eye to eye. Soul to soul.
It's best when there will be no interruptions. And it only really works when both participants are interested.
But when two people choose to be honest with each other, open about who they are and how they feel, trusting that they are loved and accepted by the other person -- it's magical!
It can be deep. It can be shallow. It just needs to be real in order to have power.
When I am fortunate enough to have conversation like this, I am more. I am more because this person chose to give of themselves to me. They gave me part of who they are. Usually, a tender part. A precious part.
And when this part is added to all that I am, I grow.
It takes a brave soul to allow others to see them purely. To see them unvarnished. Uncovered. Open. Flaws and all.
And only through conversations like this can we truly come to know that it is the flaws that make us beautiful.
I love the one-on-one conversation. Face to face. Eye to eye. Soul to soul.
It's best when there will be no interruptions. And it only really works when both participants are interested.
But when two people choose to be honest with each other, open about who they are and how they feel, trusting that they are loved and accepted by the other person -- it's magical!
It can be deep. It can be shallow. It just needs to be real in order to have power.
When I am fortunate enough to have conversation like this, I am more. I am more because this person chose to give of themselves to me. They gave me part of who they are. Usually, a tender part. A precious part.
And when this part is added to all that I am, I grow.
It takes a brave soul to allow others to see them purely. To see them unvarnished. Uncovered. Open. Flaws and all.
And only through conversations like this can we truly come to know that it is the flaws that make us beautiful.
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