Lust

I’ve often wondered what it would feel like, to be wanted the way I have wanted him. My skin like an electromagnetic field, drawing him to me, making it hard to keep his hands from tracing my curves.

I want to know what it feels like to be watched, to have eyes transfixed as I undress for a shower.

Then searching fervently for missed drops of water as I towel off my clean pink skin.

I imagine a slow grin of satisfaction, would spread across my face, as a look of appreciation covers his.

Finally having validation, that I am enough.

That I am beautiful.

That I am wanted.

That I am craved.

I long to be kissed ravenously, passionately, hungrily, ceaselessly. The kind of kiss that rubs my lips raw, as he tugs gently on my lower lip, pulling every part of my body close. Breath hot on my neck, air rushing past my ear, in puffs of silent sound. Teeth graze the tender flesh of my neck, leaving me,

breathless.

My lips are unaccustomed. My tongue is under practiced and my body unprepared.

I won’t ask anymore

After laying beside you all night, as you snore and sweat and grunt… You tell everyone that you barely slept.

So the doctors put you on strong medicine.

Now, once it kicks in you can barely talk.

I’ve heard you tell the doctors that you are in so much pain, your daily life is unbearable without the drugs they give you.

My daily life is unbearable WITH the drugs they give you, but nobody asked me.

I watch as dress yourself, arms lifted high, you punch through the sleeves of your hoodie, shoulders swinging, elbows flying, limbs flailing like a child’s tantrum.

I’ve seen you carry baskets of laundry, the garbage and the groceries. I watch as you lift the dogs, the chicken coop, the hood of your precious car. You never look like you’re hurting, not then… no.

The look of pain comes when I ask you to shut off the television, to put down your phone, to be the big spoon.

To hold me close…

The soft sigh of submission, the crease in your forehead, your silent objection.

No more chores for you.

how did i get here?

For the first several years we were married, my husband and I were always touching each other. Not just holding hands and cuddling- I mean full on groping and squeezing each other’s ass. This was our way, always turned on always ready to strip down and make love and chance we got. Our favorite time of day became known as “naptime nookie” sharing custody of my two children we often found ourselves with little alone time on the weekends. So we began an amazing practice, connecting physically in the early afternoon. Full of energy and low on stress, making love in the peace and quiet of mid afternoon nap time, became the highlight of our weekend.

Fast forward about nine years, my ridiculously strong virile partner was nearly crushed in a freak accident on his construction jobsite. Lucky to walk away, he sustained a traumatic brain injury (what I would later learn to be his third) and a terribly painful injury to his neck and left shoulder. This man is unstoppable. Not only did he initially walk away, but he also drove himself home and returned to work the next day. The severity of this accident and my husband’s injury was GREATLY understated by those who had witnessed it, and my husband has always been a ‘walk it off’ kind of guy.

Several weeks to a month later, we started noticing some serious changes to his personality. The man I knew was patient and sweet, soft spoken and calm. One of the most attractive qualities he contained (in my opinion) was his calm demeanor (I’m a little high-strung). My husband, who normally could wrap his thick arms around my entire body, encasing me with his peace… Began raging, out of control tantrums. He never directed any violence towards me or the children, but he did slam his head into a block wall, out of anger. He did destroy a lawnmower with a sledgehammer, out of frustration. He did burst into tears during a heated discussion regarding his behaviors and finally admit to me that he was struggling.

He slowly and painfully described the feelings he was experiencing. The inability to think, he described his head as a “paperweight”. He expressed the difficulty he was having finding words, he KNEW the words, he just couldn’t find them over the noise in his mind. He said there was a roaring sound, a white noise, the sound of a thousand children screaming and laughing as though they were playing on a jungle gym at recess, all the time. He told me about the pain he was experiencing inside his head, “like a migraine headache that never goes away, all day and all night”.  He explained that sometimes he thought maybe he had actually died under the rubble, in that accident and the person who came home to me was just a ghost.

At this point we knew that this was not something he could “walk off” we were going to need help. We had no idea what we were dealing with, but we knew that he could not continue on the way he was.

After seeking psychiatric help, we started to learn about what a traumatic brain injury actually is. We learned that it is a cumulative injury, meaning that after the first major concussion or brain injury, a second or third can often leave the survivor with life changing symptoms. Being a football player most of his high school career and a crazy stunt pulling skateboarder, I quickly learned that this man had sustained more than his share of concussions. We saw specialist after specialist, we met with neuropsychologists, and speech pathologists. He began intensive speech therapy, vestibular therapy, vision processing therapy and by the grace of God, and a lot of hard work and determination on his part, a man resembling my husband started to slowly appear.

His temper faded back into a calm peace that was similar to the man I fell in love with. His sleep found a new rhythm, he was heavily medicated but we believed that it was the only way for him to rest.  He was also prescribed a laundry list of other medications to treat various symptoms, and side effects to other medications. Soon he had a full pill case on the bedside table, where before he hadn’t even taken aspirin or vitamins with any regularity.

This became our new normal. Meds. Therapy. More meds. More therapy. Different meds, Different therapy. A heart wrenching turn of events for a thirty-four year old man, who had spent his entire life defining himself by his physical strength and ability.

To me it felt like my husband was gone, and all that was left was a fragile shell. He didn’t look at me the way he used to. He didn’t touch me the way he used to. He didn’t WANT me, the way he used to.

It broke me.

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

a little backstory

how I became, a celibate wife.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always been a very sexual person. I remember exploring myself and male playmates, when I was as young as 4 years old. Does that make me weird? Probably…

I’m second to youngest in a large catholic family. We went to mass every Sunday, sang all the songs and learned all the prayers. We didn’t have overly affectionate parents, but they weren’t weird about it either. I remember seeing them hug and kiss on occasion. Mom was always a bit more demure than Dad, but that was just her personality. I remember having conversations with my mother as I fought through my teenage years, talking about “abstaining” and “being chaste” it this wasn’t something I put into practice… I actually gave up my virginity at thirteen, but mom didn’t need to know. However, when I turned up pregnant at seventeen, I could no longer pretend.

My first husband and I married just in time for our first child to arrive. Much to my parents’ dismay, our marriage was short lived, but I can honestly say that sex, was never an issue for us. We found ourselves expecting baby number two, before baby number one had reached a first birthday. As my marriage disintegrated, I found my identity in the beds of other men. I told myself that I was fine, even though my ex husband didn’t want me, there was always someone else who did.

Then I met the man I will spend the rest of my life with. When we first met, I came after him like a hurricane, blowing through anything and everything to get to him. He had no idea what to do with a girl like me. I knew exactly what I wanted, and I wasn’t the least bit shy about telling him. We fell in love instantly, and I don’t believe for a second that either of us has ever looked back.

I love him. Fiercely. He is my soulmate, my best friend and the other half of my heart. This man has loved me through it all. We’ve been married for right around 13 years, and we are just completely nuts over each other. The love that we have is unconditional, unwavering and unending. This is the man I will walk beside for the rest of my days. He is everything that I could have ever dreamed of, for myself. He is patient and kind, generous and caring, he is not jealous or distrusting. He always encourages me to chase my dreams, fickle as I may be! His support of me and my crazy ideas, is infinite. He never doubts me, and only loves me. He has never so much as raised a hand to me, never glanced at another woman, never remarked on my fluctuating weight or neglectful personal grooming… He is PERFECT.

Except for one thing.

My husband is completely sexually impotent. Not only is this a physical inability, but his interest in sex is virtually nonexistent as well. (more on that later) It’s been a little over four years.

You might think that this isn’t a big deal… it’s only sex. You’ve got the whole package, and you’re just worried about sex? What kind of monster are you!? Right? Well I’m a human one, a female human monster. With a sexual appetite that rivals even the most prolific porn star. Married to an amazing man, who is completely and totally uninterested in sexual relations.

But I refuse to let sex ruin my marriage.

I’ve looked all over the internet for articles, or another blog, somebody who lives with erectile dysfunction and has found a way to make a sexless marriage work. The problem is, I can’t find anyone. There are plenty of blogs about recovering from a sexless marriage, open marriages, cheating spouses and secret affairs. Porn addictions and closeted homosexuals living in what they deem an acceptable heterosexual lifestyle…  Spoiler alert! They all end in divorce. I can’t let that happen. I love this man. He shouldn’t be forced to spend his life alone, just because he cant get it up! He didn’t ask to become impotent, this was not a choice.

The goal for this blog is to break down the wall of taboo, we can’t be the only ones struggling to make a sexless marriage work. My hope is to find, explore and share ways to experience intimacy, when sexual intimacy is impossible. I plan to be very open, and possibly a little too much at times. I hope that someday we can shine a light on this issue, and stop living in shame. I’ve spent the last four years suffering in silence, unable to talk to anyone about how it feels to sleep next to my husband… every night… and not be touched, or desired.

Its not our fault, and it shouldn’t have to be a secret.

I’m sharing anonymously in an attempt to protect my children and husband from any embarrassment that they may feel with regard to this subject.

I believe that God gives the heaviest burdens to His strongest soldiers. Above all, I hope to make this fight a little easier for someone else.

If that’s at all possible.