Clinical and Torah Perspectives on Intimacy & Fertility

It seems the Orthodox Union and the Puah Institute are going to be addressing fertility and intimacy issues (link). I am pleased to see that they will be discussing dyspareunia (painful intercourse). Anyone who is Jewish and who either has these issues or wants to learn more about them should attend. It is taking place Sunday, April 29th.

I'm not sure if they've done this conference in the past or if this is the first time. Does anyone know?

You can see the flyer and information and pre-register/ sign up here.

Fifty Shades of Grey

You may have heard about Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James. It's making the rounds in America right about now. It's been labelled 'Mommy Porn' and is considered to be erotica that leans more to the kinky side (as it involves BDSM). It was originally published on the Internet as fanfiction starring Edward Cullen and Bella Swann, then was changed to a book about Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey.

The book itself is poorly written, bizarre and the characters (especially Anastasia) are often bland and boring. It does, however, have very steamy sex scenes. It's not the sex scenes in and of themselves that have me thinking, though- it's the semi-brutality and focus on pain and punishment that's expressed in the book. The backdrop to this is that Christian Grey is screwed up because he grew up in an abusive family, and somehow this predilection is a means of therapy for him.

Like a typical Beauty & the Beast story, Anastasia is going to be able to save Christian (we don't see it in this book but there are two more books in the trilogy). What bothered me in the book was how much of the sex was about sheer animality rather than love. I was really moved by the parts where Christian did forfeit control/ go outside of his comfort zone in order to try to give love to Anastasia and help give her the 'more' she was asking for. I like Christian better than Anastasia, but I don't like how domineering and controlling he is. I think he is just on the side of abusive personality himself.

I was trying to figure out why so many people like the book. I know the reason that I (semi) liked it had to do with the character of Christian. I am a sucker for people who are in difficult places undergoing difficult things and who are trying to go outside of their comfort zone in order to be better (in this case, for him to love Anastasia in a way that doesn't mean he also hurts her). Some of the sex scenes were hot but some of them just were too brutal/ animalistic for me. I see sex as an outlet for love, not an outlet for animality. The book as a whole actually made me reflect on what Jewish values of sex are vs. secular values. And I think that there *could* be Jews who would do the stuff that Christian and Anastasia did in a loving way, but it was clear that he was doing it in a punishing/ domineering/ controlling/ possessive/ scary way.

I like the idea of a passionate person who can be controlling or possessive, but not in the way that the characters of Edward Cullen or Christian Grey are. I really like the love story between Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf on 'Gossip Girl.' I think they are good examples of this kind of relationship. Chuck learns from his mistakes, is aware of when he goes too far and in the end wants the best thing for Blair (which is why he pays for her dowry). His focus is on what is good for her which is why he even lets her leave him for a relationship with Dan Humphrey. And I think that shows real love more than the whole Christian consistently making Anastasia come back to him does.

Melancholy

Pesach was beautiful. We had some friends and family over at our seder. It was wonderful.

I sit here now and listen as the sound of piano music wafts up the stairs. My husband is playing. It's very beautiful and melancholy.

Every time I deny my husband sexual relations his eyes look at me and they look so sad and hurt. If I had feelings left that I could feel, I would probably be pained. But for some reasons, they've drifted so far away from me. I've gone into protective mode and this is also a selfish mode.

I need to figure out a way to get who I really am back.

Fight

So we had sex recently. I had to prep for it by using the smallest dilator, then the middle one, then the largest, then the dildo. It sucked. I hate using the dilators. I cried when I shoved the large size and the dildo in.

It did prepare me for my husband, though. He went in pretty easily. He was all happy and excited about getting to have sex where it wasn't a struggle to fit him inside. I was detached, spending most of my time watching the ceiling and waiting for it to be over. I was also upset because he was being all tender (sweet chaste-like kisses) and I want him to be passionate and excited and exciting, not all tender. Tender doesn't turn me on. Anyway, he was looking forward to my continuing to use the dilators on a nightly basis and thus alleviate pain. I didn't say anything the night we had sex because I didn't want to burst his bubble.

But then I was extremely sore and in pain the whole day after we had sex. And I decided that I don't want to do the dilators, even if he says that long term they are somehow going to help. You try shoving big painful pieces of plastic inside of yourself and see how you feel.

I was upset at him for pushing me away and always putting distance between us. I said that wasn't helping us on an emotional level. So then he said: "You can't feel loved by your wife if she can't have sex, even if it's not her fault." This hurt my feelings. What about this couple?  Why can't my husband be like the husband in that story? Can't love go beyond the physical?

I know that if I don't want to do the dilators, I have to see some kind of doctor or therapist to figure out if there are any other solutions. Maybe I can try Botox. And I don't think this one fight means everything is over between my husband and me. But I do think it means that this is messing up my marriage and that he is being mean. It's mean to say that just because I don't want to be in pain that means I don't love him, even though I get that he is hurting and in pain, too. I guess we're just both being mean to each other.

Let Me Feel My Feelings

Sometimes I want to scream: "Please just let me feel my feelings!"

It is not helpful that every time I say or write something that is socially not the correct or appropriate response or not what you would expect (such as, for example, I feel violated when my husband approaches me and wants to have sex with me) so many commentators jump on me and tell me that either a) I should get a divorce or b) I have serious psychological issues.

It is entirely logical that someone whose experience with sex is that it is ALWAYS PAINFUL but who simultaneously craves and yearns for a loving intimate relationship that is sexual in a positive way feels miserable that the only way her husband can get release sometimes is via non-vaginal penetration. Every time my husband wants to get release in a sexual way, that reminds me of what I consider to be my failure as a woman and as a wife. Since I am currently being avoidant, I try to avoid feeling like a failure (that might also be a kind of coping mechanism). This leads me to not want to engage in sexual activities that are non-vaginal. I also feel used when my husband cums outside of me because it makes me think of myself as part of an I-it relationship (namely, as an object that excites pleasure) rather than an I-thou relationship (the two of us together engage in some sort of sexually blissful experience). Granted, my husband doesn't intend to treat me like an object and he does love me, but that doesn't change how I feel.

It seems sometimes like people who comment here are more uncomfortable with this whole situation than I or my husband am. I think you're uncomfortable with all the concepts involved- a non-traditional marriage/ relationship where sex is not playing the major role, the fact that sexual dysfunction exists in the first place, the fact that sometimes I feel violated even though my husband has good intentions etc. To this I say: Too bad that you feel uncomfortable, that this wouldn't be the relationship that you would want to be in and that for you this would end in divorce. My story doesn't have to end that way. Just because our life is somewhat tragic right now doesn't mean we have to exaggerate the tragedy by ending the marriage completely. 

Let me feel my feelings. Even if my feelings scare or bother you, even if they include wishing I was single or dreaming about other imaginary sexual partners. If my own husband isn't scared by my feelings, non-traditional or out-of-the-box as they might be, why do you need to be? Why do you need to judge? Everyone has ups and downs. I have good days where I love my husband and want to express that love sexually and I have other days where I am in the dumps and dreaming about never having sex again. People have to learn to let things be, to let people grow at their own pace, to let them feel their feelings. Obviously, you don't have to agree with all my decisions or points of view, but to be such Debbie Downers and spend your time informing me of the mental issues you think I have or deciding I ought to get a divorce- well, you should be ashamed of yourselves. What you should be doing is rooting for me and my husband to move on, get through this and become an even better and more loving couple together. We want to beat the odds and end up together. You should be praying that that happens for us too.

I was thinking how so many of you, if your kid said they were gay would be all like "Oh Lady Gaga Born This Way, Rah Rah Rah, Gay Pride Parade, Hurray' and you would let your kid feel his feelings, no matter what they were. Why are you kinder to someone who has discovered he's attracted to members of the same gender than you are to someone who is trying to figure out how to cope with something which is basically chronic pain in the sexual department? Would you tell a woman who was incontinent and peed herself when she laughed or had sex that it doesn't matter and she should just sleep with her husband anyway, even if she's really embarrassed because she might urinate? Wouldn't you comfort her and say you understand how ashamed she feels and how hard things must be for her? A lot of you are not getting this point: Just because there's something that to you seems to be the logical solution doesn't make it the right thing to say or the thing that the person on the other end of the conversation needs to hear. 

I want to get to the same place that you guys want me to get to, where I have sex with my husband and he's happy and it's not horribly painful for me. At the least, I want to be able to get him off without feeling upset or miserable. Telling me that I'm a bad wife, have psychological problems or should get a divorce isn't the way to get me to that goal.

Hypnosis

I hired a hypnotist to try to help me manage the pain of penetration but it seems like I don't like to be hypnotized and that I just can't mentally get into the space where it works. So although he was able to help another woman before me, I don't feel (unfortunately) like he was helpful to me.

I had sex with my husband and it hurt a lot. This is largely because I had not primed myself with dilators and suchlike.

Before that sex part, we had some bad nights where my husband tried to approach me sexually and I felt violated and angry that he was trying to get me to get him off with my hand. (I think my main irritation came when he actually took and positioned said hand.) I felt used and yelled at him that I didn't want him to touch me and that I was tired. I just don't like feeling like it's my responsibility to give him some sort of sexual release, even though on the other hand I get that things are difficult for him.

I guess I am back to having to start creating a routine of using the dilators several times a week if I ever want sex itself to be not so painful. It's so frustrating that the dilators, which are the only thing proven to work, still hurt me nearly as much as a penis would. Inflicting pain in order not to feel pain seems backwards.

I wonder sometimes about what it would be like to live a fulfilling life as a single woman, unmarried, not having sex at all and yet being very happy. I worry when I wonder this that I jumped the gun in getting married and that I got married just to find out what the sensation of sex was all about, which makes it all the more disappointing that I'm not getting to have that. (This meaning I would still have married my husband, just maybe have waited a few years rather than insisting that we should get married right away in part due to my curiosity about sex). I also entertain the fantasy that this condition might not exist if I only had sex with a different partner. Maybe if I could sleep with some other guy, I would suddenly not feel pain. (Of course, I will never know because I'm an Orthodox Jew and adultery isn't okay).

I'd like to be a happy single. Or blissed out with some guy with whom I wouldn't feel the sexual pain. Something other than irritated, snappish wife with a host of responsibilities that include the chore of sex.

Vaginismus in Deborah Feldman's Memoir!

Everyone's talking about that book that's been in the New York Post, on The View, etc, called Unorthodox: The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots by Deborah Feldman.

Honestly, the story itself isn't what interested me. What interested me is that this woman was brave enough to put her entire sex life (or lack thereof) on display for all her readers to see. Her sex life meaning her lack of knowledge about sex and her VAGINISMUS.

Yeah.

She did that.

She wrote about her vaginismus in her memoir.


I would put all the quotes from the book online except I think that would be a disservice. I think women suffering from sexual pain should buy the book and read it. So I'll just put some teasers up for you:

P.168- Finally he pokes, I think, in the right area, and I lift up to meet him and wait for the obligatory thrust and deposit. Nothing happens. He pushes and pushes, grunts with the effort, but nothing seems to give way. And in fact, I can't see what should. What is expected to happen here?

P. 172- The days after my wedding, which should be the happiest of my life, become consumed by the effort to consummate my marriage. But as each effort results in failure, Eli becomes more and more anxious, and as a result, his family exerts more and more pressure on us to be finished with it. By the third try, Eli can no longer muster any eagerness from his own body, and I cannot submit to something that isn't there.

(Then there's this weird part where it seems like she has a septum - you know how sometimes people are born with an imperforate hymen or a septum?- which the doctor explains to her as having "two hymens." The other doctor she talks to tells her she has some scarring, which I don't get, because I thought you could only get scarring from having been penetrated and cut/ bruised/ hurt. Maybe someone can explain this?)

P. 179- My feelings are such fragile, scared creatures; they must be coaxed out slowly, and by the time they get comfortable, they are sent into hiding again. Soon I cannot bring myself to reach out to my husband at all, because I dread the day when he will once again reject me...My own body becomes detached from me as well, and I can make it do things without feeling as if I am present.

I really did not like her description of vaginismus, because I think it gives the wrong impression of what is going on and that you can control it, because she describes it as being all in your head- but nevertheless, here goes:

P. 184- The therapist says she can tell from the way I squirm on the table that it's in my head. My head, she says, has more power over my body than I give it credit for. My vagina closes up if my mind wants it to, and no matter how much I convince myself I want it to open, my subconscious knows best, and it is in control. It's called vaginismus. She gives me a book to read about it. I read that the condition is most common in women who grow up in repressive religious environments.

She also talks about how she wrote about her struggle to consummate her marriage on her blog, Hasidic Feminist and how she felt like that was freeing. And she also talks about how she developed major anxiety because of the unconsummated issue and starting throwing up all the time.

Anyway, I'm really glad that someone has written about this in a mainstream and popular book. Hopefully that will raise awareness of the issue, although I'm worried people will think it only happens to people raised in very repressive environments (like the Hasidic community) when it happens to people like me, too, who was not raised in that way.

What I think was really helpful was how she showed her vaginismus connected to everything else. It caused her anxiety panic attacks, it deeply strained (and eventually broke) her marriage and it was also one of the main causes for why she moved out of one city and transferred to Upstate New York. So she showed how this condition can actually impact your whole life, not just the bedroom.

You go, girl! You're giving the whole world a wake-up call and making them a little more aware of what sexual pain means. You rock.