A few days ago I got very angry about our intimacy continuum. Very ANGRY.
Think of line on a chalkboard as the intimacy continuum. At left end on the line of a ‘normal’ intimacy continuum are things like holding hands, talking and communicating, shopping together and similar. At the other end, the right end, of the continuum are things like showering together, lovemaking, wild fucking in the laundry room or whatever place is convenient because you can’t stop; you both want it NOW! A good, even great relationship has the whole continuum.
Of course with her current moratorium on sexual relations, we’re limited to a short section on the far left end of the continuum. I miss the closeness and actually she does too. She has told me that.
Sue was watching the tube as I was walking past the living room. I stopped and in a loud voice, amplified by my rising anger, I said something like, “You know, this is BULLSHIT!! I don’t like the situation we are in and I’m ANGRY, DAMMITT!!!.” My outburst was unplanned. I don’t know who or what lit the short fuse on my 1000 lb. frustration bomb, or why they did it at that moment.
She looked at me but said nothing.
“I’m NOT MAD at YOU! You understand that, RIGHT?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. “I’m mad at YOUR DAMN ABUSERS and your MOTHER, TOO! They are the ones that put us in this situation. It’s not YOUR FAULT! It’s their fault. I’m sick of it.”
In both our childhood homes, speaking your mind and expressing anger was dangerous – physically dangerous. Emotionally dangerous. It was an unspoken rule, enforced by people twice our size and three or four times our weight.
I made sure Sue understood I was not angry with her. I said again it is her abusers I am angry at. Nothing broke; I didn’t kick the cat, no one hurt, no one was in any danger. She said she is “intellectually” angry at her abusers too, but she doesn’t feel it as an emotion. I think in time she will. Some things can’t be forced