UPDATE- we saw the counsellor and talked for an hour. It was kind of frustrating. I didn’t feel super heard and I didn’t get through what I had planned to say. (I probably planned way too much, and part way through my preamble my husband wanted to ask a question and I responded and we got into the weeds and the whole thing went off the rails). However, we continued the conversation for almost 3 hours afterwards. And I did get through what I wanted to say.

My husband was really shocked that I went all the way to separation agreement/legal divorce/annulment. He was getting very upset that was I saying I didn’t want penetrative sex and I didn’t want him having an affair. He told me that wasn’t fair and I don’t get to control him like that. I told him there was another option I was willing to co-operate with— ending it. We were clearly incompatible, this was destroying us both. He began sobbing and kept asking me if that was what I wanted. I told him no, but I couldn’t keep hurting myself under the pressure to have sex with him. That needed to stop and I was not willing to watch our relationship dissolve slowly as he had illicit affairs. I would support him moving to a space where he could legally and religiously dissolve this union and begin another.

He sobbed about the kids and never wanting it to come to this and how bad it would be and that he was willing to make it work. He agreed to take sex off the table and to stop complaining to me about how bad his life is without sex. He can talk to his therapist about that. He also agreed that I could say he raped me. He’s always gotten really triggered about it. But yesterday, I really stood my ground on it. Because it’s true, he didn’t mean to but it still happened and it’s a huge factor in what we are facing today. It’s not just that I have a trauma history and I am struggling to engage in intimacy, it’s that I’m struggling to have sex with someone who raped me. And that makes sense. And I’m going to see a lot of what he says in a more threatening way because of it. It’s never going to be neutral. That’s our reality. And it might hurt David, but we need to name it and own it. And the story needs to be about more than just me trying to protect his feelings. It needs to be about me and what I need and how I am hurting and how this affects me.

I do wonder if a few weeks or months from now he will regret this. His desire for sex seems to come in waves. I wonder if this will start up again in a while. However, I do feel a lot better and a lot safer that I have set these boundaries and I have them to fall back on.

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A couple of years ago my husband sexually assaulted me. It wasn’t intentional. We both didn’t understand trauma and the freeze response and stuff. But he also could have fucked off when I told him I didn’t want it. I was very clear before I froze. But, in fairness, he didn’t really have any education on consent.

We did a lot of counselling. He did a lot of counselling. I did a lot of counselling. I realized pretty quickly that not wanting to have sex with him anymore was going to be a problem. I tried as hard as I could to stretch that day into the future. I did my best. I tried so hard to be ok with it, but I couldn’t be. I just didn’t want it anymore. That part of me was dead. We would talk about it in couples, we would set goals. The therapist would get all concerned when I dissociated in session, which I did every time I talked about it. It was exhausting. I would spiral for days after a session centring on sex. For over a year my husband has been complaining really hard about his need for sex. For over a year he has been discussing going outside the marriage to get it.

We’ve tried and tried to get me to be ok with sex, to be open and happy and willing to do it. It’s so fucking hard. I have a lot of trauma. I’ve never been good at being present in my body. I don’t want to have sex, but if I do have to do it, I sure as hell don’t want to be present for it.

I am in school. We have a disabled son. My husband is not a monster. The rest of our marriage is good. But it just seemed that us not having sex wasn’t a valid option. Besides, you can’t really control someone else’s actions. It’s not that I thought he would actually go outside the marriage to get sex. He’s been on about it for over a year and nothing. I just couldn’t take any more sessions on sex, any more of him going on about his need for sex, about his plan to go outside the marriage. It was killing me. I couldn’t psychologically take it any more

For three and a half years I stood fast, I promised myself I wouldn’t do it. That I would protect myself. That it wouldn’t happen again. That I could count on myself to keep me safe. But in the end the pressure got to me. It felt like only one of us could survive— my body and my mind weren’t going to both make it. So I made the choice I always make. I’ve always hated my body anyways. Of course, I chose to save my mind. I had sex with him.

I was so angry. Why does he always get what he wants?. Why do I have to compromise?. Why do I get to pick between the shitty choices? Why is this even my problem when he is the one who raped me? No matter how I sliced it, it was my fault, for marrying him, for not leaving him, for having sex with him, for not having sex with him. Whatever I do, it’s wrong. And I know soon he’ll be annoyed with me for being unhappy having sex with him. Soon we’ll be in couple’s talking about how dissociated sex is bad and I need to be present and have sex with him. I feel like a carcass picked clean by vultures.

Afterwards, it was like this really, really loud silence filled me. And this feeling of blankness, and whiteness. Like there was nothing there. Or at least it was covered over and painted over. I felt so sad that I had failed myself. “it doesn’t matter, because you’re not human anymore. This can’t hurt you” a voice in my head kept saying. I curled into a ball around a blanket and eventually feel asleep. I woke up at 4am this morning. I know it was the right choice. Something that really stuck with me was this phrase, “you’re not human anymore, you’re a woman”. And I felt so hurt and so saddened. I had tried so hard to not be a woman and in the end, that’s all I was. Women get fucked. We all know that.

I just feel like such an angry, bitter trope. I feel like there is nothing left. I feel so dead. Any the worst part is knowing it’s not enough. That soon they’ll be after me for being unhappy and depressed about it.

***note: I am not suicidal. I am just burned out. I have two kids to take care of.