Last night, when my hairy, handsome husband snuggled up and kissed me goodnight, I cried. I knew I had to write this because his response to my tear-filled words was so unexpected.
All I wanted was to have the man I love hold me, but I couldn’t stop sobbing. I wanted to be present in that intimate moment, but my mind reeled out of control.
Through sniffs and sobs I managed to get out, “Do you feel like I tricked you?”
“What are you talking about?” he laughed.
“Do you ever look at me, even when you aren’t meaning to, and think to yourself that this isn’t what you bargained for and you feel trapped?”
I had intentionally scooted my body to the farthest edge of the bed and was no longer able to hold in the ugly cry I usually save for the bathroom floor so no one can hear me. I was shaking.
“Babe,” he replied softly. “I am so sorry you have ever even thought that about yourself. I am so proud of you, and I have never felt like I am anything but grateful to be your husband.”
“But I didn’t look like this when you married me.”
“You were beautiful then and are even more beautiful now.”
Friends, I didn’t know what to say. In the nine years we have been married, I have had two kids, three houses, four jobs, and gained over 100 pounds. You read that right.
To me, I would rather be inside a sleeping bag under our sheets so I can spare my husband the horror and disgust of having to touch a body that shames me daily. By avoiding intimacy with him, I feel that I am saving him from something.
But, sister, I am not. This is my deep-seated hurt. He is making himself available to me and I need to be able to accept his love and affection. I need to allow myself to really believe that he still finds me attractive and funny and worthy of his love.
Your hurt may look like something much different than mine, but I have many beautiful, dear friends who struggle with being open, vulnerable, and intimate with their spouses because their pain creates an impenetrable wall.
It is okay to allow ourselves to feel real and genuine love in our current broken situations.
So, thank you, hero husband, for loving me in spite of the ways my wild brain twists reality and truths to detour me from your insatiable ability to love me anyway. You are incredible. I am grateful. I am not fixed, but I am healing.