Intimacy has been on my mind a lot lately. Not the kind of intimacy found in the bedroom (although equally true there), but rather the intimacy that exists between spouses or partners. The knowing looks, the inside jokes, the pure depth of knowledge about the other person and their thoughts and dreams and wishes and traumas.
During the first 7 years of our marriage, I thought that Handsome and I were “intimate” with one another. I told him everything. EVERYTHING. I didn’t keep secrets. I thought he was the same, but after Porngate and round 1 of the Flame, I learned differently. He told me only what he wanted me to know. He image-managed quite well.
We are supposed to be doing an exercise now where we share a “transparency of the day” with each other. The share is supposed to be something that wouldn’t be obvious to the other person and, ideally, something that wouldn’t otherwise have been shared. It could be something like “It hurt my feelings when you _________,” or “It made me happy that you _______.” It could be sharing a trigger or a childhood wound or something we’re grateful for or an insight developed. The intent is to get Handsome more comfortable with intimacy and vulnerability, but I have benefited from participating too.
These things aren’t hard for me unless my share might hurt Handsome. As mad or disappointed as I sometimes get with him, there is a part of me that views him as fragile and wants to protect him. I could share all day otherwise though.
For Handsome, these shares are usually visibly painful. A surface level share might be fine, but if he digs deeper they are obviously stressful. He’s not only unaccustomed to sharing what’s on his mind, it pushes him towards fight or flight mode. He intellectually understands that connection is the opposite of addiction, but building that bridge of intimacy feels scary and threatening. If he is like that with me, you can imagine what he’s like with others in his life. It seems such a shame to me that no one really knows him, but it is because it’s so incredibly hard for him to share himself.
There was a point where he told me that he shared “everything” with the Flame. I know now that wasn’t exactly true. He shared the private details of our life with her, for sure, but he never let her see who he really is. He heavily managed his image with her too. She had no idea he drank daily and used sex to numb himself. He never told her about his childhood traumas or his debilitating fear of abandonment. He kept his feelings of worthlessness to himself.
That’s the fascinating thing to me. I know those things… the intimate secrets. He knows that I know those things. I’m still here. I didn’t run away. I have stayed the course even when it would have made perfect sense to leave. In spite of that, it’s still hard to the point of discomfort for Handsome to be vulnerable and open up to me. I’m well- versed in the explanation: the closer we get, and the more intimate we become, the more I trigger his fear of abandonment. Intellectually I understand the concept. Emotionally, it breaks my heart. It must be very lonely to walk through life thinking, feeling, and believing that you are only safe in solitude and secrecy.
Will had to overcome this too. Our therapist calls it IA…Intimacy Anorexia. There is a book by Doug Weiss (Intimacy Anorexia) which addresses this and it was very helpful. Hang in there, my friend. It gets better. ❤️
Thank you Leigh! I appreciate the reminder that the light at the end of the tunnel is real. ☀️
Totally. I was completely emotionally intimate with Rog. I had NO idea he wasn’t reciprocating. I only started to understand that after 25 years.
The kicker is, I can’t make myself fully vulnerable and fully intimate with my new partner. I’ve known him well over two and a half years now. And it’s lovely. But without the full intimacy I thought I was good at. That came naturally.
He changed me. And much as I have had great therapy, and lots of self awareness, I know it is permanent. I will never be that vulnerable again.
Thanks to WordPress gremlins I’m just seeing this. I’m so sorry.
Betrayal trauma has definitely changed my ability to attach/ bond with my husband as I used to. I have my guard up. Things are fine, but I don’t see that carefree connectedness returning soon. I don’t really think it ever will. 😔
“It must be very lonely to walk through life thinking, feeling, and believing that you are only safe in solitude and secrecy.”
More than most peope will ever know. The envy is palatable.
Writing and putting it out there really helps, but it is still largely anonymous.
Reminds me of this poem by Walt Whitman:
WHEN I peruse the conquer’d fame of heroes and the victories
of mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
Nor the President in his Presidency, nor the rich in his great house,
But when I hear of the brotherhood of lovers, how it was with
them,
How together through life, through dangers, odium, unchanging, long and long, Through youth and through middle and old age, how unfaltering,
how affectionate and faithful they were,
Then I am pensive—I hastily walk away fill’d with the bitterest
envy.
Envy is on the mark. My husband admits to being jealous at my relationships with friends and family. (I work hard at maintaining those relationships though. He thinks they “just happen.”) It matters to me that these people know me.
You get bonus points for the American Lit tutorial!
“It must be very lonely to walk through life thinking, feeling, and believing that you are only safe in solitude and secrecy.”
For me, this is the only way to live anymore. I’ve gotten comfortable, I’ve opened up, I’ve trusted, I’ve felt safe, and in every instance I’ve been betrayed spectacularly. It does feel lonely sometimes. And I’ve slipped and shown people a glimpse of what’s behind the mask. But now it’s all ugly under there and it has made me more aware to keep it under wraps. I want what’s under to be beautiful again, but I will never again share. I miss out on intimacy, yes, but I also miss out on the soul crushing pain and because of that, my solitude is a net positive.
Anyway, that’s how it is for me but I’m not in the same boat as your husband so I can’t say how it compares.
I can completely understand how you got where you are, Jack. Hopefully you have a healthy outlet for all that angst to set it free so it doesn’t take a toll on your health. Your kids need you to be healthy.