I lost my sexuality for a year.
A love letter to Eroticon.
I’ve just spent a year living through hell. I wish that was an exaggeration. 12 months of insidious pain, climaxing in a 12 day hospital stay, and a bunch more daily meds with powerful side effects. I’m not cured – there’s a chance I may get worse, but either way I’ve come up for some fresh air. A more fleshed out description lives here.
It’s only because of a recent sex filled weekend at Eroticon that I realised just how out of touch with my sexuality, wants, needs, and desires I’ve become. The only time I can remember desiring sex as a visceral need was during my 12 day hospital stay – towards the end I joked about giving the Gent a blow job in the loos whilst pawing not so discretely at his jeans. I was only half joking – the loos are rather sound proofed for a hospital!
Part of me knows it’s because I was in horrendous pain, and my brain could barely process that, let alone process sexual desire. But I also know it’s because my sexual needs were completely ignored by doctors, nurses and the like. I was put on medication after medication that reduced my sex drive, and the doctor’s unwillingness to take me seriously until it was at a critical point meant my body image dwindled and became nothing but red hot dust. I was a ghost person barely surviving in sweat pants, baggy t-shirts, and four day old hair. I didn’t feel attractive, and I didn’t want to feel attractive. I was going through the motions of sex acts with the Gent – barely present enough to want more than a cuddle afterwards. All consensual as I do love making him orgasm through many wicked ways. A burning flame of desire did flicker from time to time – usually mid sex act, but a wrong move, or breath turned my whole world to pain.
The other reason; the medical model didn’t allow me feel attractive. Try as they might, dignity goes out of the window when you’re going on sometimes a bi-weekly basis to the doctors in an effort to make them see what you feel. In the end, I begged. The constant knock downs, sneers, and disapproving tones wore me down bit by bit. At that point you barely exist. You become a ghost struggling to survive.
It doesn’t help there’s no message that disabled people can feel sexy or even be entitled to a sex life. Lingerie is bloody difficult to get into – and out of, medications have side effects doctors don’t warn you about – like loss of libido, care companies consider only your basic needs – well, the needs they deem to be basic, and for years there has been an ever present societal message that you are not sexy.
Eroticon changed all that. I don’t know if it’s because we were away and out of the house that held so many haunted memories, or we were at a sex positive event, but for the first time in forever we tried new positions, had sex multiple times in a day, played with an obscene amount of toys, and I enjoyed it. I was in the moment – even when I was completely exhausted.
Writing this jumbled post I became a bit teary eyed, granted it could be my new ‘light weight’ status from my singular glass of wine, but I know why. My sexuality has been such a big part of me for years – for as long as I can remember really, but the past year ripped it from me leaving a shadow of a person.
2018, the year I reclaim my sexuality. Thanks Eroticon, you made me realise I’ve gained a little bit of me back.
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