My husband has long ago lost interest in sexual interaction. Perhaps it’s due to the vasectomy over 30 years ago which is his excuse. Or perhaps it was my frigidity which only changed when I came up with the idea of using my past, unlocking the frozenness by imagining being raped, tied down and given an injection which forces my body to enjoy the rape — not so far-fetched because my body responded to some of what was being done during childhood, certain touches to the chest that had not yet become breasts. Of course sexual stimulation occurs for children being abused because our bodies are made that way. But that was yet another reason to blame myself for decades.
Perhaps Samuel sensed this disconnection accompanied by the change from a frozen board during sex to suddenly responding. Before coming up with the idea I wasn’t responding to him, or any loving touch. I was far off somewhere else, very still, cold and numb. When I used the memories from childhood to my benefit, and found a way to enjoy the experience, my body moved with pleasure in reaction to his touch. It was then that he stopped wanting to participate.
Perhaps it is just what he says, a nerve was injured in the procedure of the vasectomy. I don’t think so. And if so, there are still the first ten years of marriage where he was interested. Though I tried, it seldom was enjoyable. I wasn’t able to move or like any of it except the cuddling afterwards.
The natural course is not to have to envision being raped to enjoy sex. Rape is not something I could survive again. It was how sex was introduced to me; being held down. The suffocation of that and the terror of not being able to breathe made me lie still after that encounter. I might well have been bound because the terror of feeling suffocated kept me still as if I were.
So much is taken from a child sexually attacked. All attacks, especially those done with syrupy words, soft manipulations, and coercion. These are poignantly violent stripping away trust with a permanence seldom restored.
I’d maim and kill anyone who did that another or to me if I could. I would have done it then, when brothers were stealing my body for their own pleasure. I spent many decades believing that I should have done something like beat them on the head with a lamp to get them off me. At the suggestion of a therapist I really looked at a child from the ages of 8 on. That child couldn’t beat up her attacker, how could I?
Brothers stole all good things, including the simple pleasure of touch. Do not get in my space. Do not get too close. I cannot breathe when you do.