Something that frustrates me
Newlyweds
They came to church this week--married two weeks. I watched as she returned his adoring glance. They sat close together, making certain that every decently possible part of their bodies could be in contact. They arose in turn, confessing undying love, secure in the fact that they were meant for each other, looking forward to the rest of their lives...and each declared the sweetness of coming together pure and untainted, expressing physical love for the first time--no comparisons, no regrets, no need to forgive...
Something angry twisted inside me. I felt the same frantic, gnawing feeling in my stomach that was present as a teen, when well-meaning instructors told us to save our purity for one who would do the same. How could they possibly know that at 13 years of age, I knew more about the perversions and violent possibilities of sex than they had ever imagined. Purity was not even a distant dream.
My spouse remained clean as instructed. But instead of the promised reciprocal, he received me. No joyful celebratory union for him. No sweetly beautiful virgin bride. Just second-hand merchandise who could fill a book with knowledge about sex positions, anal sex, oral sex, and how to use sex to hurt...icing the cake, of course, would be fun trivia about lesbian sex, but I didn't see how that could be remotely interesting to him.
In a gesture I could never comfortably imitate, I watched her cuddle against his side and briefly touch her lips to his neck. Unable to stop watching, I wondered how it would feel to come together in a blinding flash--no fear, no remorse, no self-loathing. My desperately active brain visualized them cuddled together in the loving afterglow--no tears for this beautiful couple. Imagination forced me to see them ecstatically entwined without fear or hesitation, and I felt dreadfully cheated. And today, after years of practice, when I know there is nothing to hurt me, I am still afraid...
I have heard sexual interaction described as a basic need, simple and pure. I am aware of the purpose it serves as it binds couples together and provides cathartic tension release. I know of its potential procreative power.
I also know of terrifying sexual violence. I have felt its savage power tear me from the inside. I have felt violated in places that should have been exclusively my own. And there are times when I am too tired, too sad, and too weak to reconcile the fact that those acts are unrelated to the loving touches offered by the one I love.
I watched that couple...I listened to their innocent words...and I wept, not because they touched my heart, but because there is no more beauty to be found in me and I am forever broken, used up, and lost.
They came to church this week--married two weeks. I watched as she returned his adoring glance. They sat close together, making certain that every decently possible part of their bodies could be in contact. They arose in turn, confessing undying love, secure in the fact that they were meant for each other, looking forward to the rest of their lives...and each declared the sweetness of coming together pure and untainted, expressing physical love for the first time--no comparisons, no regrets, no need to forgive...
Something angry twisted inside me. I felt the same frantic, gnawing feeling in my stomach that was present as a teen, when well-meaning instructors told us to save our purity for one who would do the same. How could they possibly know that at 13 years of age, I knew more about the perversions and violent possibilities of sex than they had ever imagined. Purity was not even a distant dream.
My spouse remained clean as instructed. But instead of the promised reciprocal, he received me. No joyful celebratory union for him. No sweetly beautiful virgin bride. Just second-hand merchandise who could fill a book with knowledge about sex positions, anal sex, oral sex, and how to use sex to hurt...icing the cake, of course, would be fun trivia about lesbian sex, but I didn't see how that could be remotely interesting to him.
In a gesture I could never comfortably imitate, I watched her cuddle against his side and briefly touch her lips to his neck. Unable to stop watching, I wondered how it would feel to come together in a blinding flash--no fear, no remorse, no self-loathing. My desperately active brain visualized them cuddled together in the loving afterglow--no tears for this beautiful couple. Imagination forced me to see them ecstatically entwined without fear or hesitation, and I felt dreadfully cheated. And today, after years of practice, when I know there is nothing to hurt me, I am still afraid...
I have heard sexual interaction described as a basic need, simple and pure. I am aware of the purpose it serves as it binds couples together and provides cathartic tension release. I know of its potential procreative power.
I also know of terrifying sexual violence. I have felt its savage power tear me from the inside. I have felt violated in places that should have been exclusively my own. And there are times when I am too tired, too sad, and too weak to reconcile the fact that those acts are unrelated to the loving touches offered by the one I love.
I watched that couple...I listened to their innocent words...and I wept, not because they touched my heart, but because there is no more beauty to be found in me and I am forever broken, used up, and lost.
posted by Samantha @ 9:40 PM
4 Comments:
At Thursday, March 08, 2007 8:56:00 AM,
Kengo Biddles said…
"... because there is no more beauty to be found in me and I am forever broken, used up, and lost."
I doubt Darrin believes this, and neither do I. You are radiantly beautiful, not ignoring the trauma you've seen, but focusing instead on the person you've become, the steps you're making, the powerful woman, mother and wife you are.
But you don't necessarily want commentary, so delete this, if you wish.
At Thursday, March 08, 2007 9:58:00 AM,
SG said…
This comment has been removed by the author.
At Friday, March 09, 2007 1:56:00 AM,
G'pa Bob said…
Dearest Samantha,
I hope that you have already heard the following because if you have not then you will think me an idiot - and, just in case, I apologize in advance.
"All things work together for the good of them that love God" and "I will consecrate thine afflictions" seem impossible to reconcile with your reality. What would it be like though if that really happened; if thine afflictions became consecrated?
Hopefully, a time will come when you can see something great in your life that could only come because of having been through great affliction. That will be the moment of consecration. At that moment your little girl will know that her experience is appreciated and she will joyfully run to you and fill this hole in your life; this broken, used up, and lost feeling. You will welcome her. She will disappear as a fragment of your life. You and she will integrate. You will feel and be complete and warm every minute of every day from then on.
As always, I state that this does not in any way excuse the offender - "Offences must come but woe unto the offender."
I pray that this great part of your life will soon become apparent.
Love,
G'pa Bob
At Monday, March 19, 2007 4:12:00 AM,
Hirkimer said…
Second hand merchandise? I'm not going to say that it isn't believed to be true. Not by the Lord's standards, of coarse, and would also put the spouse in the same catagory as the Lord. But everyone else seems to hold that second hand standard. Society, the abusers, those close to us, imediate family, even church leaders (as in your example). As though we are responsible for others actions and so we must pay their dept. And so we hold in our feelings until they explode in gross transgression and sin. But if the Lord tells me that I'm not second hand, than why do I feel this way, why does the world treat me this way? Perhaps most importantly, will I ever feel any different?
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