Into-me-see

Okay, so I've been dragging my feet trying to finish this post for a few reasons.  First I was sick, then I had some personal stuff going on that bummed my writing flow.  Then I got stuck 'cuz it's a little outside my comfort zone.

So one of my "Alamoms" (and...coined) is from El Salvador; she was the one who volunteered to lead my newcomer meeting on my very first day in the program.  When I once confided in her that my husband was not affectionate, and that we were rarely intimate, she told me in her thick accent:

"Ah, reemember - 'eenteemahcy' meens 'een-too-mee-see'."

Intimacy = Into-me see.

At a rehabilitation center meeting shortly thereafter, the counselor, a recovering alcoholic himself, repeated these words of wisdom when I used the group to explain that my husband was stonewalling me at the moment, and that any physical contact was unthinkable.  I mean forget sex, but even hugging, kissing, anything.  I'd settle for an accidental boob graze.

"Yup a lot of us know about that, don't we?  'Intimacy' means 'into me see' - and he doesn't want to see what's going on with him right now.  And he doesn't want you to, either.  You see, when our integrity is out on you, being around you causes us pain, and then we resent you for the pain that you cause us.  Doesn't sound like it's makes sense does it?  But to alcoholics and addicts, it makes perfect sense."

Sometimes I wonder, what is it that he is so afraid for me to see?  For him to see?

The last couple of weeks with my husband have been pretty...good.  Knock on wood.  There have been some bumps, but for the most part it was as if I had come back from my trip on that teeny frighteningly small plane like it was Delorean, and was transported back in time to the husband I once dated.  He was easy and breezy, he laughed at my jokes (always a plus) and made jokes of his own.  He smiled.  He was attractive again.  It had been 2 1/2 months.

So one night we um, yanno.  Twice.  And the next day, too.

And that first time, he was like Tom Hanks' character from "Cast Away" at an all-you-can-eat steak buffet and I was a big, juicy rib eye.  No more spearing fish for you, Tom.  And here's some mashed potatoes and gravy.  And a hot fudge sundae to top that off.

It was the most connected of a time we've had together in...?  It wasn't mechanical, penciled-in, boring.  We told each other we missed each other.  We said other things too, but that's as close to dirty talk as you guys are getting.

Intimacy isn't just physical touch.  For me, for many of us, and I dare say in general, it's communication.  When we haven't had sex in a while, it feels like in some way (a really important way) we haven't spoken to each other.  We haven't been recognized, we haven't been heard.

As they say in the program, "This too shall pass."  I know the pendulum can (and usually does) swing the other way.  But for now, I'm going to let go of my resentments, my hurt, my fears of the future, my severe sciatica pain, and go up to give my husband a kiss.