[Continued from I don’t have sex with my husband (pt.1)]
After a few years of being with my husband, our sex life had become effectively nonexistent and our relationship, while strong in every other way, had a massive crack silently running through it.
We talked about “the issue” once. It was uncomfortable; we were both just trying to explain ourselves, we used inclusive, loving words, and yet we both felt attacked, defensive, hurt. I felt he just didn’t understand; he probably felt the same. He wanted me to get it checked out, to get help, for me to feel better. I felt so vulnerable that any suggestion just made me feel pressured.
It seemed like we made a silent pact not to talk about it, not to think about it, not to go there.
Every few months I’d get brave enough to update him on my progress. “I’ve been doing mantras about it for a couple weeks, and was already feeling more comfortable,” I’d tell him, or, “I made an appointment to get it checked out.”
The mantras couldn’t reach the depth of the problem unfortunately.
As for the appointment – sure, I should’ve done this years ago. I meant to – but the awkwardness and shame I felt meant I didn’t want to think about it much less bring it up for someone to test. The one time I did, the doctor said she couldn’t see anything specific that would cause the discomfort, but if I have sex and it continues to hurt, then she’ll check it out.
But, I’m not going to have sex! I wanted to yell. It was like a phone company telling you to call their help number when your phone didn’t work. I couldn’t even bring myself to try to have sex much less to test whether it would hurt.
So we kept ignoring the issue as we tumbled towards our wedding date.