This is Jill’s first Sinful Sunday since December. With the exception of that and the previous year‘s Christmas tree photos, this is the first Sinful Sunday in more than eighteen months featuring Jill that was less than two months old at the time of posting. Needless to say, I’m optimistic about what the future holds.
See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!
Someday I hope you’ll
Want to hold me as much as
I want to hold you.
Are you ready? Get set…Go do TMI Tuesday! 🙂
Jack’s Answers
1. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, your future, what would you want to know?
I don’t think I’d truly want to know anything. While I am definitely curious about my future, and the true purpose of this practical-joke-on-the-world that is my existence, I would hate to learn details about what is to come for me up to and including my ultimate fate and have it shape or influence my actions.
2. What do you value most in your sex life?
The fact that it allows me to connect and experience intimacy and pleasure with more than one person. Sex with Jill is great – the current lull in our sex life notwithstanding – but I’m not the sort of person who can be happy with just one partner.
3. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
Things that will or even might result in loss of human life. Note my use of present tense; I’m not necessarily saying that one absolutely cannot joke about past tragedies or loss of human life, though without significant passage of time such jokes are less likely to be smiled upon by one’s audience. No, I refer to joking about one’s intention to carry out such an atrocity. Case in point: Recently a man – likely a transient – walked into a place of business in our city and told staff he was planning to carry out a shooting at a local school. And while there was no reason to believe this person was serious or – for lack of a better word – sane, the matter was obviously taken very seriously. As of this writing the individual has not been apprehended, and local schools remain on heightened alert.
4. If you had to move to a state or country besides the one in which you currently live, where would you move and why?
I like Oregon. There’s no sales tax.
5. Are you too nice?
Yes. Way too nice. I’m not sure why, though I’m thinking my tendency toward extreme empathy for others has something to do with it. Lately I’ve been trying to balance my instinct to be helpful and to give disproportionately of myself with my introversion, laziness, and self-interest.
Bonus: Falling in love is _____ . (one word only)
So hard on the knees. Sorry, too many words. The best thing ever. Damn it, did it again. Exciting as hell. No, that won’t work. Fucking great. Whoops! Fantastic.
Jill’s Answers
1. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, your future, what would you want to know?
I would definitely be curious and want to know, although I don’t think I’d actually find out. I like the surprise and making my own choices for the path ahead.
2. What do you value most in your sex life?
I value the sense of connection and intimacy. Feeling safe and secure to be myself and enjoy myself without being judged.
3. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?
Disasters and other tragedies that result in the loss of human life.
4. If you had to move to a state or country besides the one in which you currently live, where would you move and why?
Ireland, Italy, and most other places in Europe. I’ve been to many of them, and I’m familiar with the customs and way of life there.
5. Are you too nice?
I’m definitely too nice, but I’m working on that.
Bonus: Falling in love is _____ . (one word only)
Wonderful!
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
My late-night showers are pretty lonely these days.
See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!
TMI Tuesday, let’s get real.
Sexy Secrets
Jack’s Answers
1. Do you have a special place you like to have sex regularly?
I don’t have sex regularly.
2. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done? The scariest?
The hardest thing has been living day-to-day for the last year and a half, pretending everything is fine with my marriage. The scariest is happening right now, i.e. continuing to persevere not knowing what my life will look like in a year, or even six months.
3. Are you annoying?
Probably. Who am I kidding? Yes.
4. A person whom you’ve had “the hots” for a very long time tells you they are super attracted to you. You spend a few hours together and the sexual attraction is overwhelming. You are dying to have this person as your lover. At the moment you are highly aroused, and he/she wants to have sex with you in a church, would you do it?
I’d like to think I wouldn’t; after all, I absolutely do not want to be the subject of the sort of scandal that might result from being arrested for public indecency. But I’ve never been one to decline sex, especially not now that I’m getting laid maybe a dozen times a year.
5. While in the middle of the best lovemaking of your life, if your lover asked you to squeal like a dolphin, would you?
To the extent that I have the slightest idea what the squeals of a dolphin sound like and could imitate that sound on demand, yes. I wouldn’t hesitate if it excited my partner.
Bonus: Are you good in bed?
When it comes to many aspects of my life – parenting, cooking, writing, professional acumen, organization, and various other skills – I come off as self-effacing or even self-deprecating. But one thing of which I am certain is that for many of the women with whom I’ve had sex I am one of the greatest lovers they’ve ever had, if not the greatest. I’m modest about a lot of things, but never that.
Jill’s Answers
1. Do you have a special place you like to have sex regularly?
I enjoy having sex outside, typically on our balcony on a warm night. I have also had sex in a public park (after dark, with no one around), and it was exhilarating. I love feeling the night air on my naked body.
2. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done? The scariest?
The hardest was probably giving birth. There was a period of thirty minutes when I thought, “I just can’t do this.” But then it occurred to me that no one could do it for me and I did it. The scariest was taking my two-year-old daughter to the emergency room when she fell and hit her head, cutting her eyebrow open. While there, Jack and I had to hold her down as they stitched her up. It was scary and awful.
3. Are you annoying?
I’m sure I have my moments. But I always try to be friendly, helpful, giving, and loving. I hope most people think of me as a good friend.
4. A person whom you’ve had “the hots” for a very long time tells you they are super attracted to you. You spend a few hours together and the sexual attraction is overwhelming. You are dying to have this person as your lover. At the moment you are highly aroused, and he/she wants to have sex with you in a church, would you do it?
I probably would if the church was empty.
5. While in the middle of the best lovemaking of your life, if your lover asked you to squeal like a dolphin, would you?
I’m not sure I could do that on demand. But at the height of orgasm I have been known to make some interesting sounds. I’ve even surprised myself!
Bonus: Are you good in bed?
Yes. I focus on pleasing my partner, and I can usually let go and just enjoy the moment.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
TMI Tuesday – No Frills, I’m on the road again.
Jack’s Answers
1. What food(s) is your city/country known for?
Our city may have more authentic Mexican taquerias per capita than any other city on Earth. I have no idea if that’s actually true, but I’m definitely going to go with Mexican food. Living where I live has spoiled me for great cuisine; we’ve also got an abundance of fantastic Mediterranean and Asian restaurants, but I’d say that more than either of those, quality Mexican food is the major culinary selling point.
2. What should people do when visiting your city?
Come over and have sex with me. This really just applies to women, but hot guys might be interested in my wife.
3. What do people do when they come to your home?
Recoil in terror at the mess.
4. What should people expect when they visit you?
A mess. Didn’t you read #3? Okay, that’s not exactly true. We always clean up before company comes (which happens seldom). I guess what people can expect is good conversation and great food. Pretty much everyone who comes over is treated to that.
Bonus: If you were chair who would you like to have sit on you?
A hot sexy woman. It’s up to her which part of my body she sits directly upon. (I vote for my left kneecap!)
Jill’s Answers
1. What food(s) is your city/country known for?
I would say Mexican. There are lots of taquerias and sit-down Mexican restaurants in our downtown area alone, let alone in the rest of the city.
2. What should people do when visiting your city?
In our specific suburb there isn’t too much to do. However, San Francisco is close, and many of the sights there happen to be must-sees. The Golden Gate Bridge, Ghirardelli Square (of Ghirardelli Chocolate Company fame), Pier 39, Fisherman’s Wharf, Lombard Street, Alcatraz Island, the Exploratorium, and so many others are all worth your time.
3. What do people do when they come to your home?
They visit with us. Drinks and conversation on the couch, followed by an amazing dinner, homemade chocolates (my specialty), and occasionally really hot sex (also my specialty).
4. What should people expect when they visit you?
A great time with wonderful people, of course.
Bonus: If you were chair who would you like to have sit on you?
A hot, sexy man.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
As soon as the elevator door slides shut you lean over to me. I feel my body react to the closeness; it’s been awhile since you’ve made such a move toward me. Too long, in fact.
As we begin to descend, your mouth reaches mine. We kiss passionately, voraciously, savagely. It is the culmination of two months of loneliness. Of hurt feelings. Of frustration. Of – what’s the opposite of fulfillment? Of that, whatever it is.
By the time the elevator stops moving, we are just getting started. The door opens to the cold, empty garage, and I press the button for the top floor. It shuts, and we rise through the elevator shaft. As we do, I kiss and suck your neck, my hands caressing your curves. Your arms are wrapped around me, and I feel a spark as I think back to times when this kind of thing came easier for us.
The elevator stops on the top floor. I open my eyes long enough to peer out into the corridor. No one is waiting to get on, and good thing, too, because they’d be getting quite an eyeful. I press the button marked G, and when the door shuts we resume.
My hands slide under your top, and I exult in the familiar sensation of your skin beneath my fingertips. I’m not ready to sneak my way into your bra just yet, but we’ll get there. For now, I want to feel the electricity that I know exists between us. It’s the best.
By the time the elevator nears the bottom level of the building, you are sucking wantonly on my tongue as my thumbs caress your nipples through their cover. When we reach the garage it is once again empty; this is typical for ten AM on a weekday. I hurriedly jab a button on the panel, sending the elevator back up to the top floor.
The door closes slowly and I work my hands into your bra, feeling your excited nipples between my fingers. I roll them gently at first, then pinch them. You purr as you feel the pressure, and we start to ascend once again. Though we both know that we’ll have to stop if someone boards the elevator, it’s the furthest thing from our minds.
By the time we get to the top floor, your top has been pulled way up, your tits are out of your bra, and the elevator isn’t the only thing that’s on the rise. You can feel my arousal pressing against you, and reach down to knead it lustfully. I hump your hand slowly, rhythmically, hoping you’ll unzip my pants and take it out. It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything like that.
I press the button for the garage, and before the doors have even closed I’m sucking your nipple. I listen for the chime that signals an unexpected stop to take on new passengers, but for the most part I am focused on the task at hand. At any rate, the chime never sounds. As we move slowly, deliberately down the shaft, I’ve got my hands on your breasts, drawing both to my mouth, hungry to taste as much of you as I can.
We slow things down as we approach the bottom floor; I wonder if you’re going to suggest we wrap it up and get to the day’s errands. But you don’t, and I waste no time before pressing the button to return us to the top floor. Rather than getting back to your tits, I unbuckle your belt and slip my hand into your jeans. My fingers brush aside your soft cotton panties, and my heart thunders as the anticipation all but overwhelms me.
Your arousal is evident as my fingers move rhythmically inside you; you moan quietly, as though afraid of being heard even here in the confines of the elevator. After a moment I pull my hand out of your pants and bring it up to my mouth. I miss the taste of you on my tongue, and even as I return my hand to your panties and strum your delicate labia, I wish I was devouring you instead.
As the door opens onto the empty corridor at the top floor, you whisper “Fuck me.” Though I can scarcely believe I heard you, it isn’t something I need you to say twice. Before the door has shut, my jeans are open and I’m hurrying to free my erection. You reach down to help and my cock springs out, landing in the palm of your hand with a dull thud. It’s throbbing, aching to fill you, and as I press the button marked G, you turn away from me, yank down your jeans and panties in one single motion, and brace yourself against the wall.
In an instant I am buried deep inside you, my hands grasping your ample hips as I fuck you for all I’m worth. My pelvis jackhammers against your ass, each thrust stroking your G-spot. I reach up for your hair and pull your mouth to mine, kissing you hungrily. Then I return my hand to your hip, holding you steady as I move in and out of you.
This time when the elevator reaches the garage, we don’t even bother to stop what we’re doing. The door slides shut and I press the button for the top floor. As we ascend, you bend all the way over, your hands on the cold stainless steel floor of the car, and I move my hands to your ass, spreading you open and thrusting ever deeper. The sounds of our bodies moving in unison are conspicuous and intense, and they fuel our arousal. I reach around to your clit and circle it with my fingers even as the head of my cock continues to goad you toward climax.
We reach the top floor and keep going. Down to the garage again without stopping or even slowing down. Back up to the top floor without the slightest concern for discovery, and then when I reach for the button I’ve been pressing for almost half an hour now, you smack my hand away and press the one for our own floor. After a moment, the doors open to the familiar corridor that leads to our unit, and we pull up our pants and exit.
Looks like our errands will have to wait.
Have at it–TMI Tuesday fill-in-the-blank fun.
Fun Fill-ins
Fill in the blank. Have fun, be creative.
Jack’s Answers
1. _____ call.
Port of call.
2. _____ to me baby.
Talk dirty to me, baby.
3. _____ and _____.
Steak and baked potato.
4. Sex bloggers are _____.
Sex bloggers are my kind of people.
5. _____ really need to _____.
You really need to be in my bed.
6. You should be _____.
You should be in my bed.
7. I have never been able to ____ long enough.
I have never been able to keep it in my pants long enough.
8. Do you wanna _____.
“Do You Wanna”, by Modern Talking
9. My _____ get mad at me for _____.
I can’t think of anything for this one. I considered doing as Jill did, and putting “daughter” in the first blank, but I don’t think she really gets mad at me for anything. When she exhibits a negative reaction to some aspect of my parenting, I don’t think she’s mad, really. It’s more like she’s hurt, disappointed, or just wallowing in unnecessary drama and unfulfilled entitlement.
10. When my alarm clock goes off, I _____.
When my alarm clock goes off, I am disappointed.
11. I look forward to _____ this year.
I look forward to the midterm elections this year.
12. _____ is one of my favorite toys.
Your body is one of my favorite toys.
Jill’s Answers
1. _____ call.
Booty call.
2. _____ to me baby.
Run to me baby.
3. _____ and _____.
Cuddles and kisses.
4. Sex bloggers are _____.
Sex bloggers are exciting.
5. _____ really need to _____.
I really need to travel more.
6. You should be _____.
You should be happy.
7. I have never been able to ____ long enough.
I have never been able to relax long enough.
8. Do you wanna _____.
Do you wanna hop on a plane?
9. My _____ get mad at me for _____.
My daughter gets mad at me for saying no.
10. When my alarm clock goes off, I _____.
When my alarm clock goes off, I hit snooze.
11. I look forward to _____ this year.
I look forward to time off this year.
12. _____ is one of my favorite toys.
My Eroscillator is one of my favorite toys.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
As you are likely aware, either from my tweets, our TMI Tuesday posts, or this January blog post, Jill’s and my relationship has taken some hits in the last year and a half or so. We are having trouble connecting, at times emotionally and especially sexually, and she doesn’t seem able to feel joy as she used to.
It’s been like this since October 2016, around the time of Rye’s visit. (I later found out that what I refer to in the linked post as Jill’s “stressful day at work” was actually the onset of severe depression, which I believe is largely to blame for our disconnect.) There have been good days and not-so-good days, days when I have hope and days when I wonder if we’re actually going to survive as a couple. There have been periods of weeks – months, even – wherein we have no sex or intimacy whatsoever, and then there are times when I catch glimpses of my wife as she used to be, such as last Thursday morning when we had sex in a moving elevator.
One thing I definitely can’t say is that the excitement is gone from our marriage. Unfortunately, while the thrills are still plentiful, they are born of uncertainty, of precariousness. They come with an unwelcome dose of trepidation and anxiety. These are not good thrills. This is not the excitement for which I strive. I want the sort of exhilaration one gets when one rides a roller coaster, not the kind of fear one experiences when the brakes fail on an icy mountain road.
Fortunately, my built-in internal optimist is inclined to see these difficulties as just temporary. After all, Jill and I have been happy together for more than a decade. And while it’s true that people change – I know I certainly have – I’d like to think that there is more potentially keeping us together than forcing us apart. I’m not willing to give up, obviously. And I’d like to think my wife isn’t either.
When somebody I care about is experiencing a difficult time, my instinct is to try and fix it, or at the very least reach out to them and ascertain the nature of the issue in the hopes of helping somehow, even in a small way. I understand that this isn’t always what the other person needs, but it’s simply my nature. I find it difficult to rest, or even just exist, when something is amiss in this fashion. Empathy is sometimes more a curse than a blessing.
After Jill came home from work several consecutive weekday afternoons clearly overwhelmed emotionally and napped or otherwise withdrew, I asked her about it. She claimed it was work-related, and I reaffirmed my availability should she care to talk about whatever was bothering her. I assumed that when whatever it was had passed, she’d be back. After all, just a month before, we were the happiest we’d been in ages. Our sexual connection was at an all-time high, as were our intimacy levels. So I let her have the emotional space she needed.
It wasn’t long before I realized it was foolish of me – reckless, even – to have given her this space, though I didn’t see that I had any choice at the time, and I still don’t. She maintained the distance between us, and even allowed it to widen. As I realized that what was happening to my wife looked an awful lot like depression, my own – long dormant almost to the point of being completely gone – returned with a vengeance. It seemed as though my depression was feeding off of hers. Having dealt with it for years, I was used to it, but I didn’t like it one bit, especially since Jill had always been my rock, the person who elevated me and helped me to see the positive. That side of her was essentially gone.
In April 2017, after a couple rebuffed attempts to talk about the distance between us, I forced a conversation. She told me she was essentially done being married to me – albeit in more diplomatic terms – and wanted to separate, if not divorce. I was shocked and hurt; this wasn’t something I ever would have expected to hear, and while I can acknowledge that after almost a decade of marriage I might have grown a bit complacent, I’m not one to take for granted anything I truly value.
Although I reeled from the declaration that she wanted out, she subsequently dialed it back a bit. She was conflicted, for sure, but I don’t believe Jill is any more capable of being a single mother than I am of being a single father. That is not to say that she lacks the strength; she’s probably stronger than I am in that regard. But without support, there’s only so much one person is capable of doing. Raising a child costs money. It takes time. It takes patience. We both rely on each other, much like tag-team wrestlers. When one of us is just done and needs a break, we know the other will be there to pick up the slack.
I don’t believe I’m a bad husband. Trust me, I’m usually so full of doubt and self-loathing that if there was a chance that I might be a bad husband, I wouldn’t have started this paragraph the way I did. So I have analyzed the quality of my husbandry*, moreso since Jill and I have been at this impasse. I have considered that everything that’s happening may be entirely my fault. But I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not. I give my all to my marriage, just as I give my all to raising my daughter, to my other relationships, and to my friendships.
*Yes, I realize that “husbandry” doesn’t actually refer to the quality of any given husband. Just go with it.
In light of that, the fact that my wife has considered, occasionally or even momentarily, that I’m not the right person for her hurt me: Who in the world could possibly be a better partner than I am? And I realized that it wasn’t even that she wanted another partner; our open relationship allows for that. No, as I interpreted it, she would rather have been alone than married to me. And that shook me to my very core. Despite my reasonably-informed belief that I’m not a bad guy or a bad husband, I began to second-guess myself. I began to doubt that I really was a good person. Or maybe I generally was a good person, but not to my wife. It was certainly possible, if – at least in my mind – unlikely.
The Jill I’ve been living with since fall of 2016 isn’t the same Jill I married. She’s still the center of my world. I still love her, and I still find her wonderful. Still worth living with. Still worth dying for. But she doesn’t feel like the happy woman I dated, the open, expressive woman with whom I had a child, and lived for nearly fifteen years. And I understand why she might have changed, to an extent. She’s older now; her life perhaps hasn’t shaped up as she always thought it would. She married a guy with social anxiety, depression, and a need to sleep with – and love – women who are not her. My wife has questioned and challenged her upbringing and values, and – completely by choice – entered into an open, polyamorous relationship after decades of conforming to traditional notions of love and sex. While our relationship is still open, I suspect this still provides conflict for her.
(Jill has pretty much always known that I am inclined toward non-monogamy. Though it was not one of the first things I told her about myself when we began dating, I didn’t hold it back for very long once our relationship became sexual. And it’s something I mentioned frequently, in a variety of contexts. In other words, it was a consistent if not constant facet of my personality. Though it is, at least in some circles, a surprising or controversial thing, I wasn’t afraid to bring up my desire for openness with Jill because she was and is the most intelligent and mature person I had ever dated; if she couldn’t handle it, there was no hope.)
I need to state for the record that I am not blameless for the tension and lack of connection between Jill and I. After all, I gave her more space than I should have, for longer than I should have. Rather than checking in frequently and attempting serious, in-depth conversations in the hopes of maintaining the connection and getting to the bottom of whatever was troubling her, I met her withdrawal with one of my own. As I stated earlier, I didn’t see much choice: Attempts to pry or otherwise bridge the gap would have caused her to pull back even further. So I kept my distance until I couldn’t stand it any longer.
Although I was quick to assume the blame – perhaps fear that it was all my fault prevented me from making much effort sooner – I did investigate on my own. I researched emotional issues in perimenopausal women. I Googled everything I could think of. I talked to anyone who may have been able to enlighten me. I asked my Twitter followers for help.
It should be noted that one of the possibilities I considered is that Jill was still coping with a personal rejection that had occurred around the time her depression reared its ugly head. My wife dislikes rejection – obviously; does anyone out there thrive on it? – and as a result can be slow to put herself out there, to open herself up to unnecessary risks, and to try again if it doesn’t go well. It’s understandable; I’m the same way at times.
I hesitate to go into detail, because I am certain that if the person I’m about to reference knew the effect his rejection had on her, he’d feel terribly guilty. To make a long story short, after several months of being sexually involved with the man I’ve referred to as H, and hoping for a more significant relationship than just a sexual one, she was told that he would never have the same deep, emotional feelings for her that I have for his wife (and vice versa). To his credit, H was as earnest and careful with her feelings as I suspect any man has ever been during such a conversation. He didn’t reject her out of malice, didn’t treat her cavalierly, didn’t express ridicule or even condescension for her feelings, didn’t ignore her until she got bored and went away. And he certainly didn’t want to stop fucking her. He let her know where she stood, and while it wasn’t what she wanted to hear, short of committing to an emotional relationship he couldn’t handle, I have no idea what else he might have done.
He and Jill are still friendly. They communicate on occasion, if not frequently, and have no problem seeing each other socially when the situation dictates. But they haven’t had sex since October 2016, and I suspect Jill has no intention of changing that anytime soon. Still, despite their détente, I still wondered if what transpired with H was the cause of the tension between Jill and I. Was she lashing out at me because, for fear of damaging relations between our respective families, our children – who are similar in age and enjoy a one-week-out-of-the-year in-person friendship – and most importantly myself and H’s wife, she couldn’t lash out at him? I ran this idea by Jill a few months back, and she considered that may have been the case, but it’s not as though acknowledging the possibility changed anything.
Not long after, my therapist mentioned that the cause of everything – Jill’s depression, the deterioration of our sex life, the emotional disconnect, and literally every change that I’ve noted in the last year and a half was almost certainly due to changing hormones. Now, what I know about women’s bodies could fill a relatively short magazine or a large pamphlet, but I can admit to knowing exactly jack shit about hormones, especially in women my wife’s age. Apparently it’s a common thing in women approaching menopause, and doctors – male doctors especially – rarely make the connection. So one day, out of the blue, I brought it up. But Jill didn’t seem swayed by the new information, and anyway, it didn’t change anything.
Last month, Jill mentioned that the birth control she’d been using wasn’t doing a very good job regulating her periods. My instinct was to suggest she stop taking it and switch to something better; I am aware that there are numerous varieties of oral contraceptive, and most of them contain some ratio of estrogen and progestin. I also know that not every pill is right for every individual. Clearly my wife had been prescribed a pill that had wreaked havoc on her hormone levels. Rather than tell her to switch pills – by now you must know I’d never tell any woman what to do with their body – my brain went a different route. I had to know, so I asked her when she began taking this particular birth control.
She didn’t hesitate before speaking: “October 2016.” It was like I’d been reading a sprawling, richly complex novel and now, in the final or penultimate chapter, all the pieces finally fell into place. I couldn’t believe it!
Well, of course I could believe it. It was beyond obvious. But I was also flummoxed at just how obvious it was. And disappointed that I was the only one who’d made the connection. The only one who’d done any investigation. The only one who cared. I understood the effects of depression; when my own was at its nadir, I was incapable of seeing answers that were right in front of my face, or of hunting for them when they weren’t so obvious. I was upset that my wife hadn’t considered that the issues plaguing her (and plaguing our marriage) were serviceable, and certainly not a fait accompli.
Trying not to show the satisfaction I felt over realizing my wife’s depression was likely not my fault, I suggested she talk to her doctor about prescribing a new pill. She dismissed the idea, and passive-aggressively – almost defeatedly – said she’d just stop taking it. Once again, I know almost nothing about hormones, but I doubted whether it was a good idea to stop taking something that may affect one’s thoughts, mood, or behavior without consulting a doctor, and I told her as much. Still, within a couple days she had ceased taking it, and she seemed okay with that decision. As of right now, she’s not yet replaced it with a new oral contraceptive.
I’ve learned that it could take months for her hormones to return to previous levels. Some of the people with whom I spoke reported at least six weeks. At least one woman said it took her nearly a year. I’ve waited more than a year without any idea as to the cause or how to fix it; another year – with a likely end in sight, or even just hope in my heart – is certainly doable.
