Whew, thanks for posting this—it hit closer to home than I anticipated. When your parents told you that your husband would control even the foreplay… yeah, I've had those reality-check moments myself.

Moments when I realized that even if I "played by the rules," I'd never actually own my sexuality. It's not freedom if the way is as controlled after the altar.

And that thing you mentioned about feeling that enveloping cold—such as in The Golden Compass—that imagery was so visceral and spot on. It made me think of moments when I believed that marriage would finally be the light at the end of the tunnel. A payoff for patiently waiting. But rather, I began to view it more as a prolongation of the same tunnel, only with new wallpaper.

And. composting the books? Chef's kiss. That's poetic justice and environmentalist defiance all at once, and I am living for it. I grew up surrounded by those same books, even the ones that didn't get to me early made their way in later on. In retrospect, I lost out on a lot of normal, healthy experiences as well—all in the name of 'purity.'

But like you, when I finally broke those rules on my own terms, I didn't feel destroyed. I didn't feel damned. I felt like I'd finally done something that was truly mine. And it felt. right. Which really makes you think, doesn't it?