3.7.2019
Craig comes from a family of origin that was very open about sex. Because of his parents’ frankness, he gleaned that sex could be a healthy and enjoyable part of marriage. And because there was no obvious hiding or embarrassment associated with his parents’ sex life, Craig never cast it as something to keep hidden or secret and therefore by association, shameful.
My background, however, was different. We didn’t talk about sex unless it involved condemning something in the media, a new risqué movie, or whatever happened in the media in relation to a criticism. When it was time for the “birds ‘n bees” discussion, that never happened. (Leaving me to the “wisdom” of my peers and my own speculation.) In the days before my wedding when I asked about birth control methods, I remember some vague advice to the effect of “you’ll figure it out.” So I entered marriage with the subconscious assumption that sex shouldn’t be discussed: I think I considered it so intensely private that it wasn’t acceptable to say those types of words out loud. And therefore, because it was kept so secret, guilt or shame was indirectly attached to sex also. Again, all this was a subconscious response. I didn’t have the maturity or tools to look at and analyze all I was formulating and feeling.
What a surprise that our significant differences in perceptions would one day force an oncoming crash like a locomotive hitting faulty track! And little surprise that when we struggled with different issues over the years in relation to sex, heaven forbid we would actually TALK about the core problems. Know the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results? Goodness, was that ever us. But we muddled through, finding a level of satisfaction with our sex life. It wasn’t over-the-top amazing, but whose is, we reasoned? And over the years, we also managed to somewhat tip-toe through conversations about the mechanics involved. But the feelings that hovered around pre-, during, and post-sex? Those were barely mentioned—it was if they didn’t matter.
Then came The Miscommunication.
If my emotions could’ve been graphed, they would’ve resembled a slowly building crescendo. As the weeks went by, feelings of worthlessness, emptiness and isolation finally caused me to ask Craig for that two-week reprieve I mentioned earlier. I needed a break to somehow find me again: Summoning all my courage, I asked if we could refrain from having sex until we’d figured out what was going on in my head and heart. Craig immediately looked wounded, but he agreed. We would figure it all out at Fairhaven. No problem.
We just needed to get through a couple weeks before our trip, right? How hard is that? I honestly never suspected how quickly our relationship would spiral downhill. And finally, crash.
By the time we pulled over to the side of the road to make that monumental decision, I felt more distanced from Craig than ever before. He was totally shut off from me, and the loneliness that produced felt like a tomb. Even though we agreed to keep going to Fairhaven, I wondered, “Will we ever truly heal a breach this vast? Will we ever be intimate, best friends again?”
At this point, healing us felt…impossible.
Connecting More Deeply
Honestly, my feelings of shyness and embarrassment make me want to skip this section! When I finally convince myself we’d be doing you a disservice since we promised to be real and vulnerable, I think, “Do we have to jump in all at once? Or can we wade in slowly?” Yeah…I know. The subject of sex and a slow, measured entrance (like entering a freezing pool) aren’t realistic!
In an attempt to be the most helpful, let’s look at what Craig and I did wrong. And therefore, how you can benefit from our mistakes.
- We failed to adequately discuss our backgrounds/family of origin on this subject
The process you need to work through:
*As best you can, describe your home’s atmosphere surrounding the subject of sex
Did your parents set aside a time to discuss sex with you?
Did your parents use the correct/appropriate terminology?
Were your parents noticeably uncomfortable or mostly at ease when discussing?
What feelings and thoughts did you glean from your parents’ sex life?
Were you allowed/encouraged/discouraged to ask questions?
(Please note that blaming your parents doesn’t help you at this point. Grant that your parents did the best they could for the people that they are. And then forgive, if you need to, and focus on what you can do, now!)
- We neglected looking at and then sharing with each other how our families’ feelings and thoughts regarding sex had significantly impacted us
Attempt to discover for yourself and reveal to each other:
*Being as open as you can, describe how your feelings and thoughts were formed because of the atmosphere of your family of origin
Do you find it extremely difficult/upsetting/embarrassing to talk about sex?
Are you relaxed/uninhibited/comfortable when discussing sex?
Are there other situations/experiences from your background that have impacted you? Positively or negatively?
- We talked openly about nearly everything—but neglected to communicate our feelings around and about sex
The task to commit to:
*Decide to attempt unpacking any taboos/uncomfortable topics/unmentionables under the heading of SEX
What topic have we never had the courage or incentive to tackle?
What do I think we’ve neglected (consciously or subconsciously)….and need to discuss?
Do we have an “elephant in the room” in relation to sex?
Leader’s Corner
Maybe it’s time to re-visit how we as Christian parents discuss sex with our children. Leaders, use this as an opportunity to encourage parents to be pro-active, bold, truthful, and approachable. Do some research for materials that you can recommend. And point out that any discussion must include a frank conversation about the internet—it’s increasing availability and aggressive efforts to ensnare children and any who are vulnerable.