Lost Intimacy
I have been known to wonder what it would be like if I lost my wife to some accident or illness. It seems like a morbid thought, but less macabre and not so uncommon, you might hear the phrase, “What would you do without her?”
Well, with Cyndie living in Boston, I am getting a chance to find out.
Our intent was to use FaceTime to keep in contact across the miles of distance. We’ve succeeded a couple of times, leaving the connection open while we each went about our separate business, creating a feeling of being together. It worked pretty well for that. Unfortunately, Cyndie’s schedule isn’t providing very many opportunities for this kind of connecting. More often than not, we have been spending our days out of contact. I am left to fend for myself.
It takes a toll. No doubt about it, when days go by and you don’t talk with the person who would otherwise be your most intimate relationship, there is a loss of intimacy. I find myself inclined to put up a protective barrier in defense. After a while, I don’t want to talk with her. It is so counter-productive to the ultimate goal that it seems ludicrous, but that is the natural reaction that occurs to me.
This is a classic example of depressive thinking. It is dysfunctional, but the unhealthy mind presents it as a logical, helpful defense.
If I was feeling a lack of intimacy in my childhood, and it felt natural to create a protective barrier in defense, it would explain how I now feel so comfortable with this reaction. I’ve had years of practice. It feels right, not talking to the person closest to me. My father taught me well. He was a master at shunning my mom.
It is a goal of mine to invert the pyramid of dysfunction that passes from generation to generation. I want to be healthier than my father, and I am hoping to imprint better health on my children to equip them to become healthier than me.
I need to go call Cyndie.
Relative Something 
I am thinking you are very thoughtful and clever to have linked some of your feelings with the experiences
you had when you were small. Life patterns are all around us – it is fascinating to me to have a strong
reaction to something and then ask myself why…often you are reacting to something that happened a long
time ago – which is why it is so good you linked back to your Father.
Every so often I get stuck or overreact for too long and I have a wonderful fellow who illuminates me for myself. Let me know if you’d be interested in talking to him about all the changes happening with you at the moment – he really is as good as a hot bowl of soup…no wait a minute…he’s even better than that!
pam xo
Pam Knutson
January 24, 2012 at 10:13 pm
Much appreciated, Pam! It’s all connected. And, really, so within reach, if we are willing to become conscious to it.
johnwhays
January 24, 2012 at 11:42 pm
Hi John
It is a beautiful sunlit afternoon here and I am relaxing, taking it in, enjoying the moment. What a wealth sunlight is – as you know when it makes your incredible words on image revelations possible!
The title you give to this post is Loss of Intimacy. What if this experience were about the exact opposite? Cyndie has placed all her confidence in the John W Hays she fell in love with, the one unshackled and free; the one who creates timeless pieces from balancing the rocks of time together – the one that knows no fear but recognizes the limitless bounty that is extended to us. She goes it ‘alone’ knowing you are there, her greatest friend and ally, focused on realizing your common dream.
I’d say you are discovering a new dimension of intimacy – something I’d like to emulate.
Ian Rowcliffe
January 21, 2012 at 9:07 am
Priceless are the words you share, Ian! And I think you are correct; I believe we are on to a new dimension of intimacy. Interestingly, it is to be born of our temporary distance apart. It feels like the wealth of sunlight!
Thank you.
johnwhays
January 21, 2012 at 12:32 pm