Long Road to Recovery

Sex Phobia. Inorgasmia. Anxiety. Self Forgiveness. Self esteem. Trust. Asshole magnet. Female Arousal Disorder. Blame. Shame. Slut Shaming.

These are words which were tossed around in my first counseling session today.  They are all connected in a mass mental block in my head.  I am pretty sure that Cliff, my counselor, is also unsure where to start with this mess.

The first words that come to my mind: wow, have I made a mess of my life.  However, I am going to let that thought slide out of my head.  I don’t need the additional blame in me.  There is a mess, and I am fixing it.  That’s what matters.  We chatted about what thoughts have the power to do, but if guess what!? I am not my thoughts.  That’s a perspective I have never really looked at before.  We all have thoughts that are crazy, or violent, or harmful.  It is acting on those thoughts that make the thoughts into problems.  Having them doesn’t affect anyone.  He told me to see the thoughts. Acknowledge them, but not to let them fester.  Acknowledge and dismiss.  I am going to try that.

We talked about my sex issues.  Is it possible that I really am asexual?  It is now a part of the Pride Movement to be asexual – a blank hole between your legs lol (I am not sure I understood asexual to be the same thing as what Cliff was suggesting to me today, but I have often referred to myself as asexual, in that I didn’t need sex, not that I didn’t have a sex as some people do).  He, somewhat jokingly, said that maybe I should wear an asexual button and hope to find a man wearing one too.

Sex for me has long been an obligatory part of a relationship.  But, my mind and my body are on different paths, which he repeatedly (yep, I’m different alright!) called fascinating.  My body responds.  I might enjoy it. Then my brain takes control again, and bam, sexual interest is gone.  It seems very sudden, but maybe it has lead up points.  He asked if I could try an additional 30 seconds before I end it.  I said that I feel like that was when I ended up in a ball, sobbing, afraid to even be touched, the panic attacks that occurred a couple times.  He asked me what steps I could take to get to a point where it wasn’t so taboo in my head.  I stared at him blankly.  He read me pretty well.  “This is hard for you to even think about" he said, noting that the stress level on my face had changed.  He asked why and all I could say was a complete mental block of the subject.  He suggested I try playing with myself more, and increasing how long I can do it.  I told him I struggled to even bring out the toys I bought let alone use them, so I wasn’t sure this plan was going to get me anywhere.  The step between where I am and the next step is too big.  He is not a sex counselor by any means, and I am pretty sure I stumped him.

I was surprised he focused on the sex angle, where there are so many other issues.  His objective was to release the anxiety about sex over time, and hope the rest fell into place.  “You can’t be aroused when a saber tooth tiger is chasing you, and your stress level is up around those kinds of levels when it comes to sex”.  Here I am, going against “Creation”.  Animals of all sorts have sex to procreate and continue life.  I don’t even want to have sex ever.  He acknowledged that if sex hurts, it hurts, and there is no real way to get around that.  He said that if sex hurts, and if I expect sex to hurt, I might tense and stress, which makes the body less able to respond.

I know I need to forgive myself for the mistakes I made a decade ago.  I know that sex became a chore for me (for the most part), at least seven years ago.  I know that forgiving myself is the first step to healing, but I don’t know how to do it.  It is so clear to me that all of this is my fault (I know I started out saying that I wasn’t going to blame myself today, but it is like a carrot hanging in front of a horse – it is all I can think about, it is so clear to me that I did this to myself.  So, we forgive for being a sexual being (once upon a time), and for being an asshole magnet.  Sure, that sounds easy enough.  But the slut shaming in my head is so loud that I don’t know how to ignore it.  I had never used those words, but it is exactly what I do.  Good girls don’t have sex.  Good girls don’t enjoy sex.  Good girls don’t get STD’s.  Sluts do.  How do you start to forgive yourself for name calling for so long?

Play with yourself.  Let the name calling come and go, don’t dwell on it.  Except the first sign of name calling makes me stop.  Even if I convince myself its ok, I still stop from my own name calling.

I know it was only the first meeting of a long road to recovery, but I feel more hurt today than I have in a while.  I feel less able to deal with it, maybe because it is now all real.