Written by Kimberly Green
Messy Marriage Team Writer
When I was a little girl, we had a brown crocheted blanket that lived in the family room, ever available to warm you on a chilly night. For me, this blanket had many uses. It was a glamorous gown for playing dress up; a fortress; an island where I was safe from sharks that lived in the carpet; chestnut hair that flowed to the floor. It kept me warm and comfortable, protected me, and allowed me to pretend I was someone else for a while.
Many afternoons I could be found sitting with my backside in a laundry basket, legs dangling out, with that blanket stretched over my head, “hiding.” I was invisible in my safe place where I couldn’t be criticized or judged. I could watch the world through the tiny stitches, but no one could “see” me.
Throughout my adult life, I have worked at self-acceptance and tearing down walls.
I have made progress in not taking things personally nor judging myself based on my fears of others’ opinions. But there are some places inside of me, so deep, that make up the very fabric of who I am, a place only my husband can go, where he runs into a little girl sitting in a basket with a blanket over her head.
In the bedroom, I want my blanket. I want to see my husband, his body, his face. To taste the saltiness of his skin and feel his magnificent hands. I want to know what he feels and see that his whisperings of love and enjoyment are genuine. He isn’t merely being polite because he’s “scoring.” I want the assurance that I am getting all that no one else gets. But I am selfish in that I don’t acknowledge that he wants the very same thing—to be trusted implicitly, and gain access to a level of intimacy reserved only for him.
Far beyond just offering my body, stretched and scarred by children, surgeries, too much food and too little exercise—sucking in my gut the minute the clothes come off. But I want to reach that level where I confess my desires and express my pleasure. I somehow fear that through verbalizing those things, I will no longer be comfortable, protected, and able to pretend I am someone else for a while.
If I hide in the dark, beneath my blanket—often woven with fears, misguided religion, pride, or entitlement—my Beloved may only be disappointed at what he can assume, not disappointed by what may truly be there.
The things only God can accept and understand because He is God.
I realize that in withholding my own thoughts, wants, and delights, I hurt and reject my husband and tell him “I don’t trust you.”
So……. the lights come on, the blanket comes off, and those anxieties and passions so neatly restrained break loose and I am naked and completely vulnerable. I instinctively suck in my gut another inch, maneuver my jaw in an attempt to disguise my triple chin–>—then breathe, let all of that silliness go, and completely entrust myself, to this beautiful man I have been given–>—a man who needs me to allow him to be the husband God intended; a comforter, a protector, and someone I don’t have to pretend to be someone else for.
He can SEE me.
And though we may sometimes fail one another, and I’ll still try to hide from the world, he always has a spot next to me in a laundry basket, legs dangling out, with a blanket stretched over our heads.
What keeps you from giving yourself completely to your spouse?
What have you done that has helped you overcome your sexual inhibitions?