How does grief affect your sex life? How does it affect intimacy when you’re hurting?
On Mondays I like to take a reader question and try to answer it on video (and I’ve had great fun filming some upcoming ones with my daughter Rebecca!).
But today’s a significant day for me. Today my son Christopher would have turned 22, had he lived.
And recently I had a reader write in about grief and intimacy. I read her whole question on the video, but to summarize:
A few years ago we lost our baby girl when she was only 36 days old. Our oldest was 19 months at the time. A few years later we had a stillborn. We went on to have two more healthy children, but we also had a miscarriage. I know that you say grief comes upon you in waves, and I’ve certainly experienced that. But for me, grief and sex are really intertwined. It makes our sex life really difficult. Any suggestions?
That’s a hard question! I related in the video something that I shared in The Good Girl’s Guide to Great Sex, about how making love ended up being very healing for me the night that my son died. And that was not something that I had expected (and I didn’t mean to tear up in the video!).
For those of you who don’t like to watch videos, or who want more info, let me summarize some of what I said about grief and intimacy.
We tend to experience grief differently. This month we’re talking about personality types (really how the MBTI relates to marriage). Every Wednesday we’re looking at a different facet. But my personality type loves talking about our thoughts and figuring out plans and ideas by talking out loud. Feelings, however, are different. When I’m feeling grief, I tend to put a wall around myself and like to be by myself.
My husband, on the other hand, is far more extroverted with his feelings. He has no trouble sharing them. And that means that we don’t always help each other the best.
Sometimes a couple may simply process grief differently, and that has the potential to pull you apart.
It’s important, though, to recognize that making love can actually be a healing part of grief even if you don’t talk about what you’re feeling. You don’t need to talk to touch each other’s pain. And often we carry our pain in our physical bodies. When we can share that, it can be tremendously freeing, if you’re not able to vocalize what you’re thinking.
So I’d say: even if you can’t talk about it, don’t shy away from each other. Try to even say just one sentence aloud, and then hold each other, and don’t be afraid if it goes further than that. Deep intimacy tends to fuel desire, but that doesn’t mean that you’re ignoring grief and just getting sexy! No, it means that you’re trying to connect on the deepest level. You’re truly making love. And that’s okay.
My son Christopher’s handprint.
My son Christopher’s footprints
Some other posts on grief and intimacy that may help you today:
- Grief: You Don’t Just Get Over It (do we understand what grief looks like over time)? This was the post that the reader was referring to in her question, and the analogy about the hole in the floor came from a comment on this post, too.
- Why I’m Okay 20 Years After My Son Died. A little more about my own journey with grief
- 10 Ways to Nurture Your Marriage Through Grief
- How Big Is Your Umbrella? My little book to help people process grief. It tells my own story of loss, but it really focuses on the things that we yell at God when life is difficult, and what God whispers back. And the ebook version is only $2.99!
- Fit2b.us – The exercise program I was referring to in the video that helps you release some of the physical tension that grief can cause in specific areas of our bodies. It’s very calming and soothing. (Fit2b has a ton of great videos on exercise and activating your core and dealing with tummy issues, but it also has a video specifically for grief, though the whole program isn’t designed just for that).
My favourite picture of me with my son.
I hope that that helps you today. I don’t know how I’m going to spend my day yet. Hubby and I may go for a drive in a beautiful part of the county near where we live, or may go for a hike (though it’s stinking hot). But I’m going to try to not pull away from him today!
Our family around Christopher’s grave in 2017. Keith and I with our two daughters and their husbands.
What do you think? Have you ever gone through a period of intense grief? How did it affect your intimacy with your spouse? Let’s talk in the comments!
Sheila Wray Gregoire has been married for 25 years and happily married for 20! She loves traveling around North America with her hubby in their RV, giving her signature "Girl Talk" about sex and marriage. And she's written 8 books. About sex and marriage. See a theme here? Plus she knits. Even in line at the grocery store.
Thank you.
Sheila, Thank you for this post.
Almost 14 1/2 years ago (14 years, 4 months and 4 days; but who’s counting) I kissed MY son Christopher on the forehead, told him good-bye and that I loved him. He was 19 1/2 years old.
My husband and I handle the grief of Christopher’s passing the same way (alone) but for different reasons. This has put a lot of distance between us.
It may also be important to note that, between Christopher and our other child, there were 13 miscarriages (over a 16 year span). The floor is a minefield of holes, and we both seem to prefer to just close the door and avoid the room all together; or stand in the doorway alone.
I have attempted to push myself to reach out but he carries so much guilt from Christopher’s passing, he reacts as if I am attacking him. I am not sure how to close the emotional divide.
I’m not saying they didn’t have a rocky road dealing with it together or individually, they still do. But my parents taught me something without saying a word. 12 years and one month exactly my older sister died, unexpected and tragic. She was 27. I was 21. I remember coming downstairs the morning after, and my parents door was cracked open to their bedroom, I had never seen my parents in bed before together. They always had their door locked shut and we’re strictly private. I couldn’t help seeing in as passed quietly downstairs to get in my car to go be alone somewhere. As I looked in I stopped amazed. I was young and surprised that my parents were laying in bed together in each other’s arms, mom in a nightie. They way they were holding each other as my mother cried quietly and Dad looked beyond grief sticken, will always stay with me. They were just laying there in each other’s arms unaware of the time. It told me a heck of a lot more about marriage than words. And it showed me, a somewhat flashy 21 year old, that married intimacy is something powerful, something of God.
It’s a different cause of grief, but in our marriage, I found a need for sex to find healing. We had a very strained relationship with our older son, and he told us he was moving away. I’m not one to easily express emotions. This news tore me up and I felt this knot of grief that nothing could break through. Weeping, praying, talking, nothing could break that pain. I finally realized that I needed my wife, more than I had ever needed her. I asked her if we could make love, although I must admit it was a lot more physical need than making love normally is. Wise woman that she is, she understood my need, and after we had sex, I was finally able to break through and get past the wall that surrounded my heart.
By the way, I understand the grief of miscarriage. We went through that, too. Unfortunately, the dad is often overlooked in the grieving. In some ways, my wife handled it better than I did. This was 28 years ago, and it still hurts.
Shelia! You always have such great information to share. I wish I had found this YEARS ago. When my father passed suddenly about 4 years ago, it started a downward spiral in our marriage that led to my husband having an affair! I grew so much during that time and now I blog about the experience but at that time, I would really have loved to have a better understanding of what was happening to me and to us. Thanks for this awesome post!