Making a Habit

When my husband and I moved to central Illinois nine months ago, I realized that most of the necessities (groceries, shopping, and medical care) were a half-hour drive from our home.

I dreaded that drive for months.

For one thing, it was boring. There isn’t much to see between our town and the town I had to drive to: two cemeteries, one even-smaller-than-ours village about halfway there, one stop sign, two curves, lots and lots of farm fields, and a flat landscape. (I took the picture above one time when my husband was driving. When I say it is flat, I’m not kidding.) During the times of day when I go there, there’s hardly even any traffic to pay attention to.

The drive was also pretty frustrating for me. I didn’t know my way around town, so while I could get to town okay, part of my drive always had me trying to remember the map in my head and remember which street or driveway I had to turn into. I feel unsettled when I don’t know where I’m going, and this drive unsettled me a LOT.

Quite often I was driving my father-in-law to an appointment, which meant he was in the car with me. He always knows his way around, so I knew I would get to where I was going—but I didn’t like not knowing myself. His company filled the car with lots of information I didn’t know how to process. As we moved along, he would tell me who used to live in the various homesteads, which houses he’d worked on when he was doing construction to supplement his farm income, where the township hall was where his parents had met, which farm implements people were using that he had used, and all that mattered about every piece of John Deere equipment that he saw.

While his information helped pass the time, it also served as a constant reminder of all the things and people I didn’t know.

A Habit Is Made

Over time, I got used to the drive. It was still mostly boring, but I no longer had to carry a mental map. The drive required less mental effort than it once had—and I discovered that it was a good opportunity for me to think, ponder, pray, and dream. With very little traffic on the road, I felt pretty alone—and since I am an introvert with very little alone time in my life, I began to see that the drive was giving me a chance to process some of the struggles I was having.

The drive had become easy. It was still a little predictable and boring, but I realized I no longer hated it. It had become a bit comfortable, even.

Then last month, Big Guy woke up with kidney stone pain and I had to drive him to the emergency room. We’d had heavy rain all afternoon, and it wasn’t letting up. His pain had increased throughout the day. We knew he needed medical attention, so we got into the car and headed to town.

With the heavy rain, I could barely see twenty feet in front of me, much less the flat landscape. Through the side window I saw high water in creeks that I’d never even noticed before.

As we approached the one stop sign on the drive, we discovered that the entire intersection had flooded; we had to turn around and look for another route. Every side road we tried had a creek that had overflowed its banks so we couldn’t get through. We finally figured out which road would have the best chance of getting us there. We barely made it through at one spot, and as I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw the water cover the road just after we passed that spot.

We had to take the long way, but we got back to the main road and were able to pick up our route.

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A few days ago I drove to the grocery store again. As I passed my field that used to be owned by my father-in-law’s late aunt and uncle, I realized I was happily humming to myself.

Happy? Me? While driving that boring route just to go grocery shopping?

Much to my surprise, I realized that I was feeling quite happy. I was enjoying letting my mind wander a bit and then think in depth about a few things. The skies were a gorgeous blue. The fields were looking good, and I recognized some of the farm implements that I saw along the way. I knew I would have things to report to my father-in-law when I returned home.

Even more than that, I was also enjoying the landscape. Instead of focusing on the boringness of the flat landscape, I found myself looking far away at the horizon and enjoying the stands of trees and the grain elevators from nearby towns where I now know some people. I also made note of the water level as I passed over the creeks. (Occasionally I even take a side road just to see how relatives’ fields are doing.)

Making New Sexual Habits

By now you’re probably wondering what this has to do with marriage and sex.

One of the things I was thinking about on my trip to the grocery store was about how my outlook about the drive had changed so much, even though the drive itself is no different than it was when we moved here nine months ago.

The drive to town has become a habit, and it reminds me of my efforts to make sexual changes.

The sexual changes I made were also about making new habits. I changed habits of thinking, responding to my husband, and participating in sex.

Both in my sexual changes and in my drive, I’ve learned several lessons I’d like to share with you.

1. It is harder to make a habit than it is to keep one.

At first, new things can seem super hard. There’s so much to pay attention to, and even if it isn’t boring, it might be really hard to understand why some people say they enjoy the thing you’re struggling to do.

But if you continue the effort to make the habit, one day you’ll realize that the habit has been made. Now you’re only keeping it. The things that used to require so much effort and attention are not so automatic that they barely occupy any of your mental space anymore.

2. Rising waters can teach you new paths.

It is not fun having to figure out new ways of doing things when you’re thrown a curve. However, navigating these times can show you things you hadn’t noticed before. You may learn some new ways of doing things that will come in handy in the future.

Since I began to make sexual changes ten years ago, we’ve encountered a lot of bumps and floods. We’ve faced issues with our kids in their teen and adult years, we struggled with employment and finances, we lost my mother-in-law, we changed churches, and we moved a couple times. With every encounter with the rising waters of life, we had to adjust some things in our sex life—and for the most part, we’ve done just fine. Some aspects of our sexual connection are the result of new routes to enjoyment that we discovered only because our usual pathways weren’t working for a time.

3. Once the habit is in place, you can enjoy the experience.

Nine years ago I was driving to work, thinking about a lovely recent sexual encounter my husband and I had enjoyed. I realized that I was humming to myself in the car—and it hit me that it was because I was enjoying my sex life with Big Guy. The sexual habits had become so automatic that I no longer had to exert effort in trying to do all the new things. Instead, I could just enjoy our experiences and look with anticipation at the sexual landscape in front of us.

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If you are just starting to make new sexual habits—or are considering doing so—you may dread the journey in front of you. It may look like a lot of frustration and effort, without much for you to enjoy.

I want to encourage you to keep at it.

Making new habits IS hard—but then it isn’t. And one day you just may find yourself enjoying the sexual landscape in front of you, too.

Image credit | Chris Taylor

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I want to let you know about TWO awesome webinars coming up. Click on the images for more information.

Oral Sex for Him

Our Sex Chat for Christian Wives podcast team is putting on a webinar for wives about giving your husband oral sex.

Helping Your Wife Want to Have Sex

J Parker and I at Knowing Her Sexually Ministry are hosting this one for the guys. Ladies, if you want to want to have sex, ask your husband if he’d be interested. (This webinar is free for member of our KHS community.)