On Intimacy 

by Betty Schram

“Dying is easy.” he sneered. This was his response to my declaration of loyalty, and how the very end of me wouldn’t be satisfactory. 

This was more than another argument, it was the fight of my life, I knew that. But when I realized what I thought was the fight for my marriage had become the standing of the line for my dignity, everything I’d understood from my foundation and philosophy to protect, and protect always, became unseated.

In what I’ve come to refer to as “one of my lives,” I was married to a Marine for the entirety of his enlistment, and then two times more those years in our “after” life.

In his unaddressed dysfunction, he would stab holes in our relationship, bleed it out, then subsequently I would patch those holes in my attempt to be the functioning unit on behalf of what was supposed to be a team of two… but we were ineffective. Ultimately, I chose to euthanize the very thing for which I’d been in the fight of my life. Captain goes down with the ship, after all. Loyalty above all else. Ending something I would have died for was a pivotal moment, a sharp knife that cut to a place so internal I had no idea it existed.

Faulty but insulating programming I’d uploaded in my youth said, “Be the sacrifice. You’re durable, stronger than the others. You can sustain it. Be the sacrifice, after all, this is love. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” The trouble with faulty programming and wounded messages is that they are often easily validated and thus quick to assimilate as fact. I carried these messages into my adulthood and applied them with noble intentions and disappointing results.

As long as I can remember, the term intimacy was almost too soft, too gooey, too uncomfortably proximal to tolerate. It was too close.  I’d learned close meant liability. I couldn’t protect myself if they were too close. I would be vulnerable, and that was unacceptable. I would rather sacrifice the body than jeopardize the heart. You can absorb a hit and sustain it if you’re wearing armor. It was a simple matter to separate my body and mind from my heart, encase it in armor and carry on indomitable and, unbeknownst to me, limited.

I know now that I had a fundamental misunderstanding of the word intimacy. I had believed intimacy to be equivalent to vulnerability. I have come to understand they function independently of one another. 

In a former life, I argued I would die for him, to which he replied, “Dying is easy.” I contend that as someone who so badly wanted to live, dying absolutely was not easy. My sacrifice wasn’t enough.
I was willing to die for him, but not willing to let him further run amuck in my heart. This was not intimacy, it was loyalty misplaced.

As I stepped into the process of rebuilding my life, I began to consciously choose to “reprogram” out of the faulty thinking with which I had interfaced so long. I was unwilling to continue to live limited, and that meant separating the concepts of vulnerability and intimacy. 

While vulnerability was a risk, what if you found your Worthy? There had to be a sweet spot, a boundary to protect the line and welcome the Worthy. What if, instead of taking down your armor and hoping blindly that the exposed would not be exploited, what if you were to maintain a healthy armor… and invite the worthy to join you within it? 

I met him, my Worthy. I have had the honor and privilege of protecting and being protected. I have engaged the visceral courage intimacy demands: not to live with my armor downed, but to invite my Worthy to join with me in it. Intimacy is dwelling within that trust he has already earned, and to reciprocally be worthy of his intimacy as well. Intimacy is a savage loyalty, honoring the value in one another. I guard my gate, he guards his. It is a raw nerve experience- and I will gladly take the gratifying, exhilarating raw nerves of intimacy over placing myself in a position of vulnerability. Where I see vulnerability as liability, I understand intimacy to be protection, freedom, honor, exclusivity, and value.

I had never considered the concept of “feeling safe within my emotions,” until I met him. In a previous life, that phrase would be met with guarded cynicism. I have learned you can go into the world with your armor up, and I contend to a degree you must, but in your home and intimate relationship, you don’t need it. In your home, the conversation is different, the sex is different, the posture of your heart is different. You’re safe. You’re home. Intimacy is home.

Armor misused becomes a cage, and your heart a hostage. That is not living fully. Armor has a place; wear it against the world with the unworthy. But for the ones who are worthy, let them in your armor with you. Be exclusive. Curate the excellent. Live fully and courageously. 

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” I still live by and would die by this- and now do so with the discernment to choose to apply it to those who are worthy.

I’m still indomitable, but I’m also fully alive. Intimacy has become freedom.

_____________________________

This first appeared in The Havok Journal on February 21, 2024.

Betty Schram is an allied health professional, model, and actress. Fitness of mind, body, and spirit are of great value and continual endeavor. 

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.