I've talked before about how when I left the church I didn't realize how much of the church was still left in me.
When you are raised in a religion like the one I was raised in everything, and I mean everything, is tied back to the church. It's just your mode of thinking. Constantly.
I can remember a youth group meeting once and talking about secular versus religious music and how we should all be listening only to religious music. That the secular stuff was bad for our souls. I countered with the fact that sometimes even though it wasn't meant to be, the secular stuff could be religious and speak to us that way. I said the song Starry Starry Night was one. And I wasn't the only kid in my group who had had the same experience listening to that song.
Clearly the song is about Vincent Van Gogh. And listening to it now that's (mostly) what I hear. But there is still a part of me that remembers being 15 or 16 and hearing it and thinking this is about Jesus.
Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
And the end:
They would not listen, they're not listening still
Perhaps they never will
I mean I totally could make that fit with Jesus. And the taking your life could be his sacrifice on the cross, it's sort of taking your own life when you know it's coming and don't stop it and...
Well yeah, it was a stretch but the fact that I wasn't the only one of us who did, and did it with other songs as well, shows how deep that conditioning went. Everything we did, every thought we had, was supposed to be for the glorification of God and when we fell short, which of course we would, weren't we lucky we were forgiven?
Guilt, shame, and saving us from ourselves. Great conditioning.
And at times it still rears its head. But now usually in things that piss me off. Like if I get an outsized reaction to something I can almost always find it's tied to the church.
I'm going to tell you two different little stories here and they are totally tied, trust me. You'll probably see it but maybe not. And also, I'm going to get really personal about my sex life, so if you don't want to hear about that at all, which I don't blame you, who wants to hear about their friend's sex lives? You can back out now and it's all good.
When Katie was born it was a rough delivery. Long labor. Forceps used to crank me open to get her out. Stitches. Then my milk didn't come in. And her bilirubin was really high so we had to keep going back to the hospital for tests. And I was not prepared for what being a mother was going to be like. The constantness of it. I mean, I knew, intellectually that once the baby is born you are always responsible for them. But there is a difference between intellectual and physical.
I was exhausted.
I think Brent got a week off for New Daddy leave and then was back on rotating shift work. Twelve hour shifts. I was the primary parent. He stepped in when he was home. I loved when he was on mids. He would come home around 2 in the morning which was close to a feeding time for her so he would take care of that and I could sleep through that whole stretch. Ahhh...
Before Katie was born we had a lot of sex. Like often multiple times a day sex. We were young. He would leave for six months at a time so when he was home we felt the need to make up and stock up. And did I mention we were young? And poor. Like it's not like we had a lot of other entertainment things we were going to go do. We stayed home and did each other for free!
Once Katie came along things changed. We did have sex but it was sporadic. But like I mentioned, the birth was rough. Not only was there healing that had to happen from her birth but during that time I also had to have surgery on my anal sphincter. Which makes it sound like we were having anal sex, but no, not due to rambunctious out of the box sexy time, it was due to other issues, but it did make the whole area really painful. The idea of putting a penis inside of me was not high on my list. I could barely tolerate a finger before my vagina would spasm and lock down. It was not great times.
I was exhausted and touched out from constantly tending to Katie. My whole vaginal region was in pain. I was emotionally just tapped. And if all of that wasn't enough, I felt guilty about it. It was my job as a woman to take care of the house, take care of the kid, and make sure I was attractive to my spouse and giving him sex whenever he wanted it.
Because that's what I had been taught.
Seriously. It was in our pre-marriage counselling. I should keep track of the clock and make sure I was ready to greet him when he got home from work in an attractive outfit with the kids and house in order. That I needed to make sure I showed him that he was my priority as soon as he walked in. Instead I was lucky if I had changed out of my sweats and didn't have spit up down my back. And my priority? My priority was the child who needed attention. Or the laundry that was about to topple over. Or the sheer exhaustion that was going to take over. Sex? Sure...let me get back to you on that.
I knew I was failing. And I worried that he would leave me because of it.
Eventually it all evened back out. Katie started, if not sleeping, at least staying in her bed during naps and one glorious afternoon I put her down then quietly tiptoed out to the living room and said the very romantic, "We have an hour. Wanna go?" I am a sexpot, what can I say?
And after that first really difficult year sex got to be more regular again. The times of multiple times a day and not leaving the bedroom for a weekend were not on the horizon, but multiple times a week were back on.
And yet the guilt of that first year still persisted.
Until one day Brent was talking to a friend of ours in the kitchen during a party. I was eavesdropping from the doorway because as I was about to walk in I heard Brent say, "You know I say this with love, but you're an asshole." I had to hear why.
The gist of it was his wife had just had her 6 week check up after having the baby and our friend was mad because he was expecting to get laid that night. And he didn't. She said that the doctor had given the okay but that she didn't feel like it. And he was really mad about it. He was ready for sex. Brent told him he was an asshole. That it didn't matter that he was ready for sex. He hadn't pushed an 8 pound person out of his body. And that his body hadn't changed. And that he wasn't being called upon to feed said person multiple times a day. His body was still his body and his wife's body was now a co-op. And when SHE decided she was ready for sex, then that's when sex would happen. Until then grab some lotion and shut up.
He also suggested that instead of whining about what he wasn't getting maybe step up more and help out so she got some rest and a break and that if he was very lucky if she was feeling well rested he might reap other benefits from that. (Now you see how the middle of the night feedings he took over not only helped him bond with Katie, gave me some extra sleep but also provided him with bj benefits, I had the energy for some sexy time, but not the desire to have anything in my nethers touched) And then he said, but she doesn't owe you shit.
I love that man.
Today a friend posted a joke video where a guy says he's going to give his partner a rose for everytime she "put out" during her pregnancy and he handed her a bunch of plain greenery. Oh my god, what an asshole.
Now, look, I get it, she was filming so it was a setup. I get that it was supposed to be a joke. But...
Because I was raised in the church what I saw was an asshole who felt like he was owed something he didn't get. She didn't put out. She didn't give it up. She didn't do her duty. She didn't...
Dude...
Now I don't have any idea if it was a high risk pregnancy so she couldn't. If she was just uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to. Or if she just didn't want to have sex with this asshole. But the video clip "joke" made me angry. It came across as shaming her.
As a serious note...compatible sex drives are important. One of the best lines I've heard about sex in a relationship is that it's like oxygen. You notice it when you aren't getting enough. But the way to rectify an imbalance in sex drives is with open communication and possibly therapy. Not with a belittling joke made at your partner's expense for laughs from strangers.
Don't belittle your partner.
Don't expect that you are due sex.
And as another helpful hint, making fun of your partner, making them the butt of a joke, that's not going to get you laid at all.
And it pisses me off on a larger scale because I was raised with the opposite belief. That it was her job to make sure he was still getting laid during that time. That her responsibility was to make sure HIS needs were met. The religion I was raised in gives women the you are secondary message on a constant basis. It's in the God is the head of the Church and your Husband is the head of the family message. The not so subtle messaging that your husband should be like a god in your house. Unquestioned and adored. And, obviously, can have sex whenever he wants. And if you aren't doing it then it's your fault when he leaves.
Not his fault for not being better at it.
Not his fault for not taking things off your plate so you have the energy for it.
Not his fault for not seeking out help to get you both on the same page about it.
It's your fault. No roses for you.
It wasn't a funny joke, to me. It was in bad taste. It belittled his partner and made him look like an asshole. But what made me react the way I did was that it was a message that was drummed in my head for so long that I spent a year deep in guilt after having Katie because I wasn't feeling, or looking, or acting, sexy so I was clearly a bad wife.
I was being an asshole to myself.
And this guy was being an asshole to his partner.
He had lotion. He was okay.
And he could have made a video of that for Only Fans and maybe made a few bucks for his baby's college fund. Win win.
Asshole.
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