Day 501
It would seem that I have lived in two sexual extremes in my life. I spent most of my years burning a long fuse of ubiquitous sexualizing of every situation, and have now lived a little over a year wondering where my sexual desires went.
Ever since disclosure to my wife, I have searched for the good parts of those desires. I have often been filled with such love and gratitude for her that it feels like desire, but it never really seems like a sexual thing. But then I have to stop and wonder whether I have any idea of how a real sexual thing would feel.
Both extremes are failures. I have no desire to live a life without passion, yet I must strive to be content in this space for this season. I believe my desires for her will return, or maybe become something new. I have to believe that, and I really do.
In some ways, there is more pain in not being able to be who I want to be today than there was in failing at who I thought I wanted to be yesterday. At least it's a more conscious pain.
Sometimes I tell myself I can fake it until it happens, but I've learned that such thinking is often another level of deceit in the most intimate of relationships.
I would rather wait for health to mature slowly than to solve the consequences of my dishonesty with more dishonesty. It just seems so damn inefficient!
–JR
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together
To everything
There is a season
–The Byrds, ”Turn! Turn! Turn!"
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