A Rough Start: Emotional/Verbal Abuse, Limited Intimacy by Madi

We would see each other for about 30 mins each morning and then we would get home around 8 with homework still yet to be done. I knew that we wouldn’t be able to spend every second together, and I respected that C had to study a lot.

All of that being said, I couldn’t help but feel like he was growing more and more distant. For some reason, I began to blame myself. I became obsessed with perfection. I would make sure to keep the house spotless, make dinner every night, and go along with whatever plans he had.

A lot of the time, this included me just sitting next to him for hours while he watched sports on the TV, not even bothering to hold my hand or snuggle next to me. I was doing everything right, but things still felt so wrong.

It seemed that no matter how hard I would try, I would always mess things up. When I folded the laundry, it was the wrong way and he dumped the entire basket on the floor annoyed. When I did the dishes, I didn’t dry them off enough. When I replaced the toilet paper roll, I put it on backward which led to him reprimanding me. When I made him waffles on weekend mornings, I was waking him up too early. When I would try to plan out dates, I was not considering his input enough. When I would surprise him with a small gift, I was financially frivolous. And it went on and on and on. I couldn’t do anything right.

Obviously moving in with someone always has its hiccups. I had heard stories of couples arguing over the “right” way of doing everything and learning the art of compromising during the beginning of a marriage. Surely this wasn’t that different, right?

Being very religious, C and I had waited until marriage to have sex. It was an entirely new embarkment for both of us, and I was eager to explore this new form of intimacy we could share. That being said, C had little to no interest. In fact, the entire time we were married, C initiated sex less than five times. If I pursued him, he would reciprocate, but he never seemed to be interested in pursuing me. About 3 weeks into school, C began to complain of discomfort while we were intimate.

Being concerned, I called a doctor and scheduled an appointment to see if anything was wrong. C was convinced that he had a UTI, but I was skeptical that that was the case. After his checkup, the results came back, and everything appeared to be normal. The doctor said there was no reason he should be feeling any pain, and he suggested that we just “take time off for a bit.” To my surprise, C eagerly agreed that he thought that was exactly what we needed to do. I respected his discomfort and pain, and I planned to wait for him to initiate sex after that. I knew he would know when he was ready, and I didn’t want him to feel pressured in any way.

Well about three weeks later, C still had not made a move. I was bothered, and I finally worked up the courage to ask him if he was feeling better and up to trying to have sex again. He told me he thought he was ready, but it wasn’t a good time at the moment. Still trying to be understanding, I told him it wasn’t a problem. That night though, I got home early from work, cleaned up the house, got dressed up, lit some candles, and waited to surprise C when he got home from the gym. I was so excited to be able to feel close to him again, especially with him acting so distant over the past month or so.

C walked in around 8:30, and I called him in letting him know I was in our room. In my head, I expected him to be elated that I was home early and had done all of this for him. I wanted him to rush over and kiss me and tell me how much he loved me and how lucky he felt to be with me. I was not prepared for what happened next.

C actually just walked in, dropped his gym bag on the floor, nonchalantly looked me up and down, and told me he was going to take a shower and that he would “take care of that afterward.”

And just like that, he left the room and jumped in the shower. My face flushed with shame, embarrassment, and rejection. I slowly wiped away the tears that streamed down my face and crawled into my pj’s.

I used to think that I was beautiful, that I was desirable, but now, not even my husband wanted to be with me. I wasn’t enough. C came out of the shower and didn’t even mention the fact that I had gotten ready for bed instead of waiting up for him. He didn’t even come over to talk to me. He just got dressed and went into the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal.

I didn’t leave the bed that night. I cried myself to sleep, and he knew. I’m not sure if he just didn’t care enough to even ask me what was wrong, or if he honestly didn’t know how to handle the situation. It felt as if I was invisible, and I was living with a stranger.

This aversion to intimacy continued up until the end of our marriage, and I carried the shame of not being desirable. A few times I asked C about his lack of interest, but his answers only exacerbated my anxieties. He would tell me he felt like I was a slob around the house and that everyone else got to see me with my makeup on, my hair done, and all dressed up, but he only got to see the homely version of me.

He said it was difficult to come home and be attracted to that kind of appearance. He also told me he would prefer it if I didn’t walk around our house in just my underwear because it wasn’t a “good look.” When I asked him what he meant by that he just said it’d be better if I put some clothes on.

I slowly began to resent the body that I had once loved. He would critique my stretch marks on my legs, point out that my thighs jiggled, and constantly police and comment on how much I was eating. All comments were made in jest, but I couldn’t help but notice a deeper meaning. I had not gained any weight since we had gotten married, but he told me he thought I should start going to the gym more and began having me go with him at 5 am every day to run and workout.

I was so confused. When I looked at the scale, the numbers were dropping, but when I looked in the mirror I couldn’t help but still be disgusted with myself. It seemed that no matter how loose my clothes were becoming, I was still not good enough for C.

If I’m being completely honest, this is still something I struggle with today. No matter how much time passes or how much I have grown emotionally, I can still hear him joking about the imperfections of my body. It’s something I have to continually work on. After C, I had to learn to love myself again. I had to learn that I never have to apologize for taking up space in this world, even if someone tells me that I need to shrink every day.

Read Madi’s story from the beginning or to the end at https://medium.com/@mystory.mytruth