My husband told me, “You don’t know how to be intimate.”
We’ve been married 23 years, together for 30.
How could he say that to me?
Last night he wanted a sexual encounter and I pushed him off. I complained about this and that, including personal attacks on his performance since he got on high blood pressure medications. He was hurt and left the bed. That’s when he stated, “You don’t know how to be intimate.”
I was already in a funk of self-hate but his observation made me feel worse.
He’s right, I am a miserable excuse for a wife.
He’s been mad for days because I’m not cooking full meals. I have no appetite and I lack any interest in food. Sadness is all-encompassing at how much of a sucky wife I am. I hate that I feel disconnected and distant.
When my husband left the bed I wanted to get up and leave the house. Not only do I want to avoid intimacy, I want to avoid all contact where there is an expectation of me to be someone for somebody else — wife, mother, daughter, sister. It’s too much and I want to be alone where I can’t disappoint others.
Somehow, my recent attempt to focus on self-forgiveness and learning not to listen to the conditioned stories of my childhood has totally backfired. My life sucks right now but no one else is different. It’s just me — alone — and blaming myself. I’m stuck in a rerun of my past that I can’t shake.
The shame and self-hate is more than I can take. I wish I were anywhere but where I am right now. ♥Daylily