Deep Breath… I’ll Never Be Ready to Share This…
Orgasms save me from myself
*Trigger warning – mental health, body dysmorphia, demons*
*Blog Update – This post was chosen as an Elust 106 Top 3*
I have been completely rocked to my core this month. As you can see I haven’t written a blog post since the 7th April.
*Inserting that trigger warning again- see above*
I do the #30DayOrgasmFun to boost my mental health – I’m overjoyed some folk join in and find it positive and fun – see the original post here with lots of fab links to all sorts of experiences (good and bad, but joyfully, mainly good!).
My mental health has always been a fucking troublesome pain in my soul. Always. I have a whole other blog to write one day on invasive thoughts and how I only worked out this year that I actually have pretty serious OCD – but not the neat and tidy kind, the invasive chaotic WTF kind. Lucky Me – but that is for another time…
This post is about how my mental health intertwines with my physical health.
Before I go on, I feel brave enough to post this because of Kayla Lords and her powerful, raw and honest blog, I’m Not Ready To Love My Body . Please read it.
So about half way through my #30DayOrgasmFun – which was going well, I was going through some old photos and came across these:
I can’t begin to tell you how it affected me. I broke down and shook. When I think back to my feelings at the moment the photos were taken, I could cry (and I have). The love of my life had just given me that beautiful lingerie and I was trying it on. I have to explain, my mind and body are cruel to each other. It’s only by seeing this photo with the benefit of years in between that I see now that I really do have body dysmorphia.
In my mind back in that moment, I felt I was a hideous creature, I’d seen a bloated body being hauled out of the Water of Leith and that’s how I saw myself. A purple mottled monster, swollen and distorted. Not like a person at all. More like a strange walking cadaver. I rarely looked in the mirror and destroyed any photos of myself. I’m not sure how these remained. I *knew* how I looked, I didn’t need a photo to record or witness the horrors.
I have been grieving the loss of that vibrant youthful beauty that I had and didn’t know. I fucking hate that demons infiltrated and multiplied in my cells and synapses. Fuck that torment. That self-abuse. How it must have broken the heart of my lover who bought me beautiful things and I awkwardly tried them once, then hid them, pulling on the baggy black jumpers and DMs.
Then sometimes out of nowhere, I would say fuck that and pull on my feathers and tiaras, high heels and mini-skirts and rock the partaaaayyy. Those were exhilarating times but came with a crash.
So why did I gravitate towards erotica, a thing that involves loving your body, being loved, talking about touch, sensuality and all the ways our bodies intertwine?
Well, through all my mental torment, from when I was a tiny girl, there’s one place where I feel absolute zen. One place I feel content, happy, at peace. And that place is my orgasm.
When I feel the darkness flitting at the periphery, I often forget my place of safety. My libido drops, the shadows gather and I go cold.
The worst thing about having mental health issues is that at the very end of everything, medication, therapy, whatever, there’s no magic wand. You have to go to the place deep inside and pull yourself out. You are the one that has to do that. It’s a fight.
It was never suggested to me that orgasms could be as a therapeutic option. That’s why, last year when I had a mood dip, I remembered one of my books, Taking Flight, is basically all about how Oxcytocin is a magical thing that connects us all at a very deep, profound and spiritual level, that I thought to myself, that’s it, I’m prescribing myself daily orgasms to lift my mood.
For me, it works. But because self-sabotage is a huge part of my problem, I fall off the orgasm wagon a lot. I know it’s good for me, I absolutely LOVE it, so therefore, I stop.
That’s why I went public with the 30 days, being careful not to call it a challenge – I know we are a lot of fragile souls and orgasms are hard enough for some people without the added pressure of calling it a challenge FFS. But if I went public, I would be more likely to keep going.
I’m posting this today and I am shaking as I write. Should I hit ‘publish’? This blog is meant to be a place you come to escape your lives and indulge in some erotica and maybe peruse some sexy images. I want you to come here to feel looked after and happy. I want you to leave feeling happy and fulfilled (with having perhaps purchased a sexy book or certain saddle style vibrator 😉 ).
So my 30 Days Journey has been quite profound this year. For a few days after I found the photos, I did not touch my body at all. But a week ago I decided to start again. And I can say with absolutely no doubt in my mind that orgasms heal me.
Orgasms soothe me, make me feel whole.
Orgasms save me from myself.
And I want to thank everyone who has taken part and used the #30DayOrgasmFun hashtag – it brought me back to my place of peace to see you all there.
I want to also say that joining body positive projects like Sinful Sunday and Exposing Forty’s photography project has also given me love of my body and I am so grateful that I found this place on the internet.
The header photo is one of my favourite taken by Ms Exposing 40 – she is truly a champion of body positivity and a woman I love and adore inside and out.
Love you x x x