“And why,” you may ask, “is that a big enough deal that you’re writing about it, Shauna?” Fair question. I’ll try to explain…
I’m a professional sexuality educator with a passion for supporting people as they navigate the impact of life’s many transitions on their sexuality. I’m also a human who has spent the past year and a half navigating a health crisis, one which has had significant impacts on my own sexuality. There were side effects, there were relapses, there were uninsured, safe, but off label treatment choices. There was loss of libido, pleasure aversion, inability to orgasm. And there was the almost impossible to articulate sense of just being cut off from my sexual energy, which I equate with life force energy.
I want full access to my life force! But as my own recovery continues, I’m realizing that this shit takes a loooonnnng time. Every time I think “it’s almost over!” I discover that there are more layers to navigate, more integration needed, more patience required. And that goes for both healing the impacts of this wild ride of illness and treating the effects it has had on my sexuality.
I had changed my treatment specifically because of the sexual side effects. And it worked! So why was I still not engaging in self-pleasure? I had taken big risks and made tough choices to find a way to recover while still holding on to this part of myself. So now, side-effect-free, to not “take advantage” of that?…It’s like buying a really expensive car, one you really, really wanted, and then NEVER driving it. Actually, it feels more like covering the car in a sheet, shutting it in the garage and never even looking at it. I would think about masturbating, sometimes in a rather “prescriptive” way. “Shauna, you should probably masturbate. Orgasms are good for you.” Uh…that’s factual, but not exactly the relationship I want to have with my sexual pleasure.
The problem was that I still didn’t “feel” like it. Which, frankly, freaked me out. I had “fixed” the problem. Why did I still feel broken?
I’m not sure what pushed me through the ennui this morning, where I got the tiny amount of energy to pull out my vibrator and see what happened. But my body responded immediately, with ease and, yes, with pleasure. After I came, I lay there feeling the energy move through my body, savoring the sensation. Life force, vitality. There it is! My sexuality, my body’s pleasure capacity, is a resource in my healing. I know this, of course—it’s the basis of my professional practice. But this morning I was reminded of that fact in an embodied way.
That powerful reminder revealed a new perspective on what I need right now to reconnect to my sexuality. I need to rebuild trust with myself. I was genuinely surprised when I felt my body respond this morning. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that, unconsciously, I still thought it (sex, arousal, pleasure) “wouldn’t work.” My body has been liberated from the sexual side effects of the antidepressant, but their imprint on my psyche remains.
I’ve been waiting to just suddenly feel like “my old (sexual) self” again. But I’m not my old self. I’m the me who has been through a year and a half of illness and recovery, with all the incredible learning and the unfortunate baggage that comes with that. I’m going to have to accept that I’ve been impacted emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically, that just fixing the physiology of eroticism doesn’t automatically make all that go away. I’m going to have to choose to engage with my sexuality to bring her fully back online. I’m going to have to court her, as if we are two lovers coming back together after having been off on separate adventures. We’ve each been changed by our experiences but remain committed to being together. So we’ll put in the work to get to know each other again, to feel our way into a new dynamic of connection. Maybe this one will be even more fulfilling, more satisfying than before.
And I’m going to need help. Even a sexuality professional can’t do this work all alone. I’ll need to reach out to colleagues to get myself some sexological bodywork sessions or ask folks to join me in an Erotic Embodiment Practice accountability group. Like every aspect of my recovery, this is going to take time—more time than I want it to take. At least this morning I was reminded that when it feels like too much, when I don’t think I have the energy to continue to heal, access to the life force energy that I need to recharge is, literally, at my fingertips.
Photo by Leon Biss on Unsplash [IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A woman in a checked shirt sits in contemplation as she watches the sunrise through trees.]