All my friends tell me that I’m a gentle, delicate person.
I’m not sure if that a good or a bad thing.
I have a smooth relationship with my family.
We travel together.
I do well at school.
I never caused any trouble, even as a teenager.
My brother is my friend, and I love my family very much.
I feel that they’re perfect in comparison to other families around.
They never fight.

A very decent man proposed to me.
His family are really good people.
We’re similar in everything, in terms of education and language skills.
But I must admit, I am really shy.
I mean I can’t stand it when one of my friends says a curse word, even if jokingly.
I blush and start shivering.
My friends understand that and they don’t curse or joke like that in front of me.
When I first met him and we went out, he touched my hand and I shivered.
Just like I was saying, the same feeling.

We got engaged, and then married.
My mother never talked to me about anything except on the day before the wedding.
It was the first time we talked about boys.
She was very calm as she told me what to do and that I shouldn’t upset him.
Do I have to? I mean what am I supposed to do? I was really scared.
The world I knew didn’t include any of that.
People just loved each other and that was it.
But the stuff she told me—I didn’t know any of that!
My husband is such a sweetheart, and I didn’t want to upset him.
When we were on our honeymoon, he touched me and I broke down crying.
He tried to calm me down and things went on,
I really love him.
I had never dated anyone before him, of course.
But all my friends are guys.
I even went to a co-ed school.
I remember when my husband and I were still engaged, and he touched my hand and I shivered
“You’re a very delicate girl. There aren’t a lot like you” he told me then.

Frustrated, I went to see a doctor who could help me,
I went to see more than one doctor but most of them laughed at.
“You’ll get used to it,” they said.
They made me feel like I was making a big deal out of it.
I mean, I was struggling with this problem.
This was my future and the future of my marriage we were talking about.
I also don’t know how to easily talk about how I feel to strangers.
All this and they laugh at me?

My mother? My mother is a whole other story.
She, too, thinks that I’ll get used to it.
She barely even talks to me about it.
She doesn’t understand that I sleep surrounded by a ridiculous number of pillows.
Not because I’m scared of him,
But because I feel more comfortable that way.
I’m not sure who is to blame.
Is it me, her, the doctor, or who?
I get so scared to the extent that I sometimes get a nervous breakdown from overthinking.
I wonder if he still loves me.