Originally I was going to start this post off by talking about an internal debate I had about performing a specific sexual act. Yep, I’m jumping right to it aren’t I? Well, since then something happened last night that just added to everything. I’m not sure how delicately I’ll put this, so if it makes you uncomfortable just skip this post. I had trouble talking to my therapist about the first thing that happened so she suggested that I write it out and then bring it to read at our next session.
Part one of the problem started with me trying to be more expressive with my sexuality. I really hate it when the media etc. tries to pigeonhole people with labels. According to magazine articles or self-help authors, women are supposed to be all about emotions and cuddling and taking things slow and romance. I’m not like that. Sure, I don’t get to the end as quickly as a guy can but I’m highly sexual. There’s part of the complexity. I often wonder why I’m so sexual. Is it the way I am naturally or did something happen to me to make me like this? Ok, moving on. So, I had this bright idea that I would try really hard not to engage in compulsive sexual behavior. I felt that it was unfair to my husband even though I don’t do it for the “end result” (Ha! Was that delicate enough?). I do it purely for the fantasy that goes along with it and of course the fantasy is all bad and twisted. The more twisted and degrading the fantasy, the better it is for me. And the fantasies always star myself as the victim. But of course I’m the victim who’s getting what she deserves and secretly likes it.
Well, I wanted to do what my therapist had talked about, which was making new brain pathways instead of reinforcing old ones. With this in mind, I told my husband that I wanted to have an intimate weekend. You know what I mean. Of course, he was all for it and things were ok at first. I thought that I was opening myself up to being less self-conscious and it was a good thing. Then things got…not so good.
I had all these adventurous ideas for us to try and we’ve always been very honest with each other about what we like or don’t like or what we’d like to try or not try. We actually have the same boundaries which is great because he would never ask me to try something that I didn’t want. Well, I had something that I wanted to try. Here’s where it got too difficult to talk to my therapist and I honestly have no idea how to type out what I need to say here either. Ugh! How do I say this? Ok maybe I’ll just say that it was something oral and leave it at that. Ack! It was awful just saying that! The thing that makes this complicated is that it was something very specific in this area and that’s when the trouble started.
I had this idea and there was a…resistance to doing it. It wasn’t anything huge but the particular way that I wanted to do it was the problem. I couldn’t tell what was happening. I thought that I was just being stupid and I discounted the possibility that the resistance was actually coming from a particular part. I don’t know why I thought that. But the more I thought about performing this particular act in this specific manner, the more resistance there was and the stronger it got. I found myself having an internal debate that went something like this:
I’m going to do it. No, don’t do it. Yes, I’m doing it. It’s not good, don’t do that. What is your problem!? I’ll do whatever I want! No! It’s bad and it will feel bad. You won’t like it and it make things bad for you. If it’s so bad then I want to know why, so I’ll do it just to find out what happens. No! Don’t do it, it’ll ruin everything. The more you tell me not to do it, the more I’m determined to do it to find out why it’s bad. No! Yes! It’s a way to gather information, otherwise you’re just lying and nothing happened. Don’t do it!
It went like that inside my head. I was being obstinate and I don’t know why. I don’t know if the internal debate was even real or if I was just being weird. Anyway, after a while things changed again. The more I thought about this act, the more freaked out I got. I felt kind of sick and just weird. The thought became scary and I started to believe that I couldn’t go through with it. It got to the point where I started pulling away (emotionally) from my husband and I didn’t want anymore physical contact.
Needless to say, our intimate weekend was done. My husband didn’t mind. He didn’t know why I had changed, he just teased me saying that I had run out of energy. I let him think that, and comforted myself with the thought that at least I had done some sexual stuff before I lost the urge.
The thought that came with the freaky feelings was about my uncle. No matter how hard I tried to tell my therapist what the specific act was, I just couldn’t say the actual words to describe it. It was too embarrassing and it made me feel like I was a pervert for even wanting to do it.
Fast-forward to yesterday. My therapist told me that I should talk to my husband about what happened so he could understand what was going on with me. I did. I told him what I had wanted to try and I told him that I got freaked out by it and that I couldn’t do it. I told him that was why the “weekend” ended when it did. Now, considering what happened later that night, I have to believe that I didn’t make what happened clear. I didn’t actually tell my husband that it had to do with sexual abuse or my uncle. I assumed that my awkward statements had gotten the point across. Later that night my husband wanted to be intimate. I wasn’t really interested but I had just told my therapist earlier that day that I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve said no to him. Now let me make it clear that this is about me, not him. He’s very un-stereotypical guy-like. He’s fine if I don’t want to. It’s me that feels like I’m not being a good wife if I don’t have sex. Sometimes I initiate it on purpose just to make sure that he’s getting…whatevered. My mother liked to say that I had to have sex with my husband because he’d cheat otherwise. Yes, I know. Good thing for her to say right? Anyway, I decided to go along with it because I wasn’t opposed to the idea of sex. I wasn’t enjoying it at all and I just wanted to roll over and make him go away. He hadn’t done anything wrong. My husband is an incredibly attentive person in these matters so he’s all about me and making me happy. Something was just…wrong. Really wrong.
At some point while we were “together”, my husband asked me what the act was that I had wanted to do. I told him and he did this kind of sexy chuckle and said that I could try it anytime I wanted to. That was not a good thing to say. A million feelings and thoughts went through my head, a main one being that he was incredibly cruel to say that to me. It wasn’t until later that I realized I hadn’t made myself clear about the act being tied to my uncle in some way that I don’t understand. I didn’t say anything and to get through the rest of it I had to think about incest to “enjoy” it. It was terrible.
Afterwards, he was asleep and I was just laying there covering myself up with my arms. I felt dirty and my skin was crawling. To be very clear, the act was not done, it was just regular stuff. But I felt beyond awful. I wanted the feeling of my husband’s hands erased from my body in the worst way. I can’t even describe it. But he didn’t do anything wrong!
I ended up engaging in compulsive behavior with the specific aim of getting rid of the feeling of his hands on me. I made sure that it was very degrading and it worked.
Now I’m left with so many questions and bad feelings. I don’t understand where any of this came from or why I reacted the way that I did in several of these situations. It’s amazing that I wrote all of this and still couldn’t bring myself to describe the act itself! How am I supposed to read this to my therapist if I couldn’t get it out?
Why am I so horrible?