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[Guest Post] Anorgasmia and The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

Published on August 10, 2023April 30, 2024 by Amy

It’s been quite a while since we had a guest post, hasn’t it? I’m happy to be welcoming Alessandra Fraissinet (they/she), a queer, sex-positive relationship, sex and health educator (RSH), talking about anorgasmia, the orgasm gap, and orgasm difficulties. This has come at a pretty perfect time, especially given that I wrote recently about my own struggles with orgasm and vow to never “fake it” again.

The Pursuit of Pleasure by Alessandra Fraissinet

TW: mention of depression and sexual violence

Part of my job as a sex educator is to encourage people of all genders and sexualities to follow their pleasure. To have sex because it feels good, to release expectations, to be playful, and to move away from the idea of sex as a performance. Under heteronormativity, in particular, sex can be viewed as something you do with a particular aim and, specifically, something that must lead to orgasm.

Now, there are a few things to know about orgasms:

First, orgasms are an involuntary response to a mechanical stimulus, pretty much like a sneeze. That means you or your partner(s) can facilitate the reaction by creating a set of ideal circumstances (trust, relaxation, appropriate stimulation), but that technically no one can make you orgasm except for your own body.

And just as there are a few things you can do to facilitate orgasm, some things can also make it hard to reach. Relaxation, adequate stimulation, good pelvic floor health, safety and trust all contribute to creating an ideal environment for orgasms. On the other hand, physical and psychological factors like depression, anxiety, certain medications, stress, and sexual trauma can prevent you from having orgasms either occasionally or all the time.

People with vulvas, especially cis women who have sex with cishet men, are known to have it harder: this is a well-documented phenomenon known as the orgasm gap. When discussing the orgasm gap, people most often place emphasis on poor communication between partners, male selfishness, and a lack of appropriate pleasure education.

Regardless of sex, gender or sexual orientation, orgasms can be difficult to achieve. This can result in significant pressure during partnered sex especially. Unlearning the idea of sex as a performance, and embracing it as an experience, requires us to release our expectations of a specific outcome and allow pleasure to take whatever form comes naturally in a given moment. This is challenging, especially if – like me – you live with anorgasmia: the extreme difficulty or inability to orgasm.

Anorgasmia can be primary (when you have never had an orgasm) or secondary (when you used to be able to orgasm). It can depend on a variety of different factors: excessive worrying around sexual “performance”, depression and other mood disorders, chronic pain, sexual trauma, hormonal changes, gynaecological surgery, and other health conditions can all cause anorgasmia.

Being a Sex Educator with Anorgasmia

So here I am, embodying the contradiction of being a sex educator who is not only unable to orgasm, but is also consistently failing to address what is “wrong” with their body. Here I am telling people they need to stop obsessing over orgasms and start enjoying sex for pleasure and connection… when I can rarely practice what I preach.

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t enjoy sex for the sake of pleasure and connection because I do. Because I don’t cum, pleasure and connection pretty much constitute the whole deal to me. But to be completely honest, most of the time, I am immensely frustrated with my body. I feel betrayed. And I feel like my body has failed me.

I can’t seem to recall my first orgasms – or even whether I have ever actually experienced one. My first experiences with sex were turbulent, to put it mildly. But even now, when I am having super hot sex, when I am really turned on, and when I am having sex with someone who I trust and who cares about me, I cannot ever bring myself to climax. No matter the amount of adequate stimulation I am receiving. No matter how many sex toys I’m aiding myself with.

I always come super close to it, and then… I wish I could say it’s like a deer in headlights that simply stops and goes away, never to be seen again. But the reality is that the pleasure becomes unbearable at this point, and I ask my partner to stop (or I stop if I am masturbating).

Reactions are mixed. Some people (you guessed it, mostly cis men) don’t say a word, and I am not even sure they notice. Some seem puzzled and thrown off or ask me questions. I then explain what happens to my body. While there is a general understanding, most people seem very surprised by it.

Talking About It

Telling partners about my anorgasmia can be even more frustrating than having the condition itself. Attempting to articulate what happens to my body while I’m experiencing intense pleasure without ever being able to follow through puts me right in front of the issue I’ve consistently been trying to avoid (which is another perfect example of “do as I say, not as I do”). And the reason why I avoid the issue is that actively trying to overcome it seems way too overwhelming.

There’s something terrifying about realising that you are indeed in charge of your own pleasure. Your partners can aid and facilitate it but cannot create it from scratch and give it to you. If you want to experience it, you must show up for yourself. That can mean a few different things: communicating with your partner openly and honestly and asking for what you want, making time and being intentional about solo sex, or going to therapy and facing uncomfortable truths. Sometimes all three, and more, together.

For years, I’ve refused to address my anorgasmia in the name of pleasure. Because sex feels good no matter what. Because I can still feel close to my partner. And because I firmly reject all sorts of expectations around sex. Wanting more doesn’t make me a hypocrite, though. If you take away one thing from this post, let it be this: you can embrace orgasm-less pleasure while being curious and trying to overcome your limitations. I deserve powerful, earth-shattering orgasms, and so do you.

“You deserve pleasure” has become a popular catchphrase in sex-positive communities, and rightfully so. But to internalise this message is difficult. And if you’ve been struggling with depression, low self-esteem or sexual trauma, taking charge of your own pleasure can feel overwhelming and out of
reach. There’s no quick fix and no magic wand, but there is important work to do.

If you would like to support me in bringing more amazing guest writers to the site, the best way to do that is by becoming a supporter on Patreon. You can also chip in by buying me a virtual coffee!

Header image for post on CBD lube by Hattie Gladwell

[Guest Post] How CBD Lube Changed My Sex Life When My Body Forgot How to Orgasm by Hattie Gladwell

Published on June 24, 2021April 29, 2024 by Amy

Today’s guest post comes from Hattie Gladwell (she/her,) a freelance journalist whose work I have been reading and enjoying for a while. This is her first piece for C&K.

I loved this story because struggles with orgasm are so, so common, especially for cis women and other people with vulvas. The limited cultural narratives around sex can make us feel that we should all be having the most amazing sex, all the time and without ever talking about it.

Those same narratives push the idea that if we’re with the right partner, sex and orgasm will be easy and effortless, and that any use of additional tools (such as toys or lube) indicate failure. But as we can see from Hattie’s story, those things can be game changers in the best possible way.

Enjoy!

Amy x

How CBD Lube Changed My Sex Life When My Body Forgot How to Orgasm

I was in a sexless relationship for almost six years. It was difficult not just physically, but mentally, too. I wanted an intimate relationship, but sadly he wasn’t interested. Of course, I thought it was me. That something was wrong with me. I changed how I looked constantly to see if maybe he’d start loving me again, but the relationship had been dead for years.

When we first got together, I was able to orgasm easily and quickly. Multiple times. Having an orgasm had never been a concern to me. I’d always had a good sex life before the relationship, and during the first year. But everything changed, and I don’t know why.

When we finally broke up and I walked away from the stale relationship, I met somebody new quickly. My family and friends warned me that it was too early, that I needed to heal. But I had already done my healing over the last six months of the relationship—because I knew it was coming to an end.

It was incredible to have sex with someone new. I mean, it was incredible just to have sex again. But, I couldn’t orgasm. It made me feel bad because I didn’t want my new partner to think it was him. My body just forgot what an orgasm felt like, and I couldn’t do it anymore.

When I tried to get there, it was even more impossible, because I was putting myself under too much pressure. It wasn’t until I decided to “re-discover myself” alone, learning what I liked and didn’t like, and what made me tick, that finally, I came to climax again.

I decided to show my partner what I liked, and it worked—but it still took me up to an hour to get there, and sometimes I couldn’t at all. It was frustrating and I felt resentment towards my ex because I felt like I had no control over my body.

I could only come during mutual masturbation. Never during sex. Which is annoying, because I want to reach orgasm when my partner does. It feels more intimate. It makes me feel closer.

That’s where the CBD lube comes in.

There are lots of CBD lubes out there, even though not that many people know about them. Of course, most people have heard about CBD and the common belief that it helps with chronic pain. But it can also help with sensitivity of the vulva, as it is absorbed through the tissues.

I was sceptical, but decided to try Dani Pepper’s “O” orgasm enhancer.

It comes in a bottle that looks just like regular, non-CBD lube, and is transparent. It’s made using organic and natural ingredients, and is water-based, meaning it’s okay to use with latex.

I sat down with my partner and talked about using the lube, and he agreed. He was just as adamant about getting my orgasms back on track as I was.

That night, we had sex. But before we did, we did what we usually do, and he tried to get me off. I decided to do it during mutual masturbation because I wanted my body to get used to the CBD lube in a way that I knew might just make me come.

He put the lube on me, and within 15 minutes I started to feel more relaxed. I wasn’t worried about climaxing. I decided that it didn’t matter if I didn’t orgasm this time—I could always try again.

But I did come. Quickly. Intensely. The most extraordinary orgasm I have ever had.

It lasted for at least 10 seconds, and afterwards, my legs were shaking and I couldn’t speak through breathlessness.

What I also loved is how calm I felt afterwards. I continued to feel this really relaxing sensation. Sex afterwards was amazing because, even though I can’t come through penetration still, it made us both feel accomplished. Knowing I’d “got there” meant there were no frustrated vibes after having sex—or masturbating for an hour.

I always use the lube now; every time we have sex. It’s my go-to, and I of course have more than one bottle at a time so that I can keep myself stocked up.

CBD lube, and specifically Dani Pepper’s orgasm enhancer, has been a game-changer for me. Not just because of the incredibly intense orgasms, but because it has brought me closer to my partner sexually. I feel like our sex life is way more intimate now, and I never feel like I’m missing out. And I won’t ever again.

About the Author

Hattie Gladwell is a journalist and editor from Sussex. She is passionate about raising awareness of mental health issues, and mainly writes about sex, relationships, parenting and mental illness.

Product recommendation is the writer’s own and is not an affiliate link.

Header image for a post on medication and sexual function

What to Do if Medication is Messing with Your Pleasure

Published on September 18, 2020July 5, 2024 by Amy

Unfortunately, sexual side effects are incredibly common with numerous types of medication. Antidepressants including SSRIs and MOAIs, blood pressure medications, and certain hormonal meds are just some of the commonly prescribed drugs that can affect sexual function.

The impact can include loss of arousal, erectile issues, pain during sex, and anorgasmia. Obviously, not everyone who takes medication experiences these issues and not everyone will experience them to the same extent. But they are super common.

Please note that I am not a medical professional, so I have kept my advice here in the realm of sex and relationship advice, not medical advice. If you have any medical concerns or queries, go to your doctor.

With that disclaimer out of the way, what can you do if medication is messing with your sexual pleasure?

Talk to your doctor

You shouldn’t have to choose between medication that helps you, and a happy and pleasurable sex life. You should be able to have both! If you’re suffering from sexual side effects, talk to your doctor.

A good doctor will work with you to find a medication solution that helps you without damaging your sex life. If your doctor dismisses you or doesn’t think sexual pleasure is important, fire that doctor and get a new one if you possibly can.

Sex matters to many of us. It’s a quality of life issue. You deserve to get medical support and be taken seriously.

Expand your definition of sex

If you can’t or don’t want to change your medication, you can get creative to enjoy a healthy and fulfilling sex life. Are you defining sex as just one thing? Too many people still think “sex” refers only to penis-in-vagina or penis-in-anus penetration.

If you’re not able to do those things right now, or finding them less pleasurable, expanding your definition of sex can open up a new world of fun. What if sex didn’t have to involve penetration? What if sex didn’t have to involve orgasm?

You might also find that taking the pressure off, by focusing on things other than penetration or orgasm or whatever you’re struggling with, will actually make it easier for those things to happen. Pressure and stress are huge desire-killers.

Experiment with toys

For example, if you have a penis and are struggling with erectile issues, why not try a toy like the Hot Octopuss Pulse? This innovative toy is designed to work equally well on a flaccid or hard penis.

If you’re struggling with loss of sensation or reduced sensation, a very powerful vibrator can help. When I suffered from anorgasmia due to antidepressants, it was a wand vibrator that finally broke through the block.

If erection struggles are at play but you want to do penetrative sex with your partner, it’s completely okay to use a strap-on! This can give you the sensation of fucking without the pressure and stress of wondering whether your body will cooperate.

Communicate

I know too many people who have struggled through sex that was not pleasurable, or was even painful, because they didn’t want to let their partner down.

However, a partner who loves and respects you will want to understand your experience and support you. Talk to them about where you’re at and how you’re feeling.

You deserve great sex, and great (partnered) sex is a collaborative process. So be honest with your partner and share your experience. If you want their help, ask for it. If you just want their patience and understanding while you adjust, ask for that too.

Fight self-blame and shame

There’s no shame in what you’re going through right now. Sexual problems are still hugely stigmatised and, unfortunately, so are certain types of medication (such as antidepressants). However, please try to avoid getting into a shame cycle or blaming yourself.

If you’re struggling with shame, reach out to others who have had similar experiences, ask your partner for reassurance and support, or talk to a therapist.

You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about!

This post is part of my #SexEdSeptember series. If you find my work useful, you can help me keep doing this by buying me a coffee! This post contains affiliate links.

Pill bottle. For a post about discovering my denial kink

Masturbation Monday: Discovering My Denial Kink

Published on February 17, 2020May 10, 2024 by Amy

Eventually, my Masturbation Monday pieces will probably move back into the realm of erotic fiction. But for now I’m not really feeling it so much. While thinking what to write this morning, I realised – I can’t believe I’ve never written the origin story of my main, ultimate, One Kink To Rule Them. So let’s talk about how I learned I have an orgasm control/denial kink.

Content warning: this one talks about mental health and makes brief mention of abuse in a relationship

An unfortunate side effect…

SSRIs can be brilliant. They can also be the fucking devil. For me, they were both. I was 21 and in my final year of university when my mental health took an extreme downturn, almost entirely – I realise now – as a result of being with a seriously abusive partner.

After a couple of weeks on citalopram, it actually did help. Somewhat. It mellowed out my extreme anxiety and took the edge off the worst of my depression. But it also had another effect: it made it impossible for me to orgasm.

I didn’t own any sex toys at that point, and always masturbated with my fingers. I first realised that something was wrong during a solo session where, whatever I did, I simply could not get myself over the edge. The same thing happened when I had sex with my then-partner. Things that usually worked just… didn’t. It was like there was a thick blanket between my cunt and anything that touched it, dulling sensation and making things that had previously been reliable orgasm triggers just feel… sort of nice.

Discovering denial…

I eventually broke through this orgasm block with a high-powered vibrator, and things got better after that. (Temporary anorgasmia is, it turns out, a known side effect. And I’m sure that part of the problem was psychological – worrying about whether or not you’ll be able to come is hardly conducive to great orgasms.)

But the weird thing was that, on some level, I kind of enjoyed it.

I didn’t enjoy not having the choice. I didn’t enjoy the fact that my body seemed to be betraying me. But the lack of orgasms itself? Yeah, I realised a few times that I was definitely getting a kick out of that. The frustration was, in and of itself, powerfully erotic. Finding myself constantly horny, almost always thinking about sex on some level, getting soaking wet so damn easily. The way that I’d still be aroused and unsatisfied after a sex session, and have to stop myself from squirming too much as my Dom slept peacefully next to me. Feeling my clit twitching, demanding attention that I knew wouldn’t be satisfying.

I vividly remember the first time I reached a hard edge. I was rubbing my clit harder and harder, feeling the wave of orgasm rising, sure that this was the time I’d be able to get myself over the edge. But it just… hit a certain level and then stopped. There was no peak, no satisfying spasms or clenching, no relief or release. I did it again and then again, trying in vain to push myself over the edge. I had to stop eventually because the overstimulation was starting to hurt. But that awakened something in me right then. Something that has played, to a greater or lesser extent, into the overwhelming majority of the sexual fantasies I’ve had in the years since then.

After breaking through the SSRI-induced orgasm issue, I mentioned this to my then-partner and asked if we could play with it. We did. I’m not ready to write about sex things I did with him in a positive way – honestly I’m not sure I ever will be – but suffice to say that getting to explore this kink was one of the few good things that came out of that time.

How did you discover your favourite kink?

Masturbation Monday is a meme created and run by Kayla Lords. Click the logo to see what everyone else is getting off to this week! If you enjoyed this piece, please consider buying me a coffee to show your appreciation.

When a Man Can’t Reach Climax

Published on October 12, 2018April 29, 2024 by Amy

I replied to this question from a lovely reader privately, but he kindly gave me permission to reproduce his question for the column as I suspect there are lots of people who could benefit from this advice. He asks:

Any ideas for a cis guy who can’t reach climax? I experience a loss of sensation due to my ongoing illness and the medication I have to take. Sometimes using a high-powered vibrator like my wife’s Doxy helps, but only occasionally. I still enjoy sex and try not to worry too much about orgasm, but you can understand this is very frustrating. Sometimes I just don’t want to bother. There’s so much information out there about premature ejaculation, but not much about loss of sensation or inability to climax for men.

This is such a great question, and one that is so rarely talked about. As you correctly identified, there’s tonnes of information for cis guys who orgasm too quickly, but very little for those who struggle to get there in the timeframe they’d like… or at all.

First, I’m going to give you the obvious but necessary advice. Try, if possible, to relax and not stress about it. For a lot of people, making climax the express goal of sex or masturbation stresses them out so much that it makes it even MORE difficult to get there. And remember, you can still have loads of sexy fun without orgasm and even without a hard penis.

Secondly, if you haven’t already, please talk to your doctor. I don’t know what medication you’re on, but anorgasmia and difficulty orgasming is a hugely common and problematic side effect of many medications, including common antidepressants such as SSRIs. (Ask me how I know!) Sadly, many medical professionals don’t take sexual side effects seriously. But sex is an important part of life for many people, doctors need to take these side effects seriously. There may not be another medical solution, depending on the specifics and what your condition is. But it’s an avenue worth exploring if you haven’t already.

Third, I’m going to make a couple of toy suggestions for you. You mentioned using the Doxy wand can sometimes bring you to orgasm. How are you using it? If you’re just pressing it against your cock, that’s awesome for a lot of men but you might also wish to try using an attachment. My partner absolutely loves the Hummer. The advantage of an attachment like this is that it transmits the vibrations all over the penis, rather than concentrating them in the one spot where the toy is sitting.

I also highly recommend you check out the Pulse by Hot Octopuss. Unlike the Doxy, this “guybrator” is actually not a vibrator at all. It uses PulsePlate technology, an oscillating mechanism based on proven medical research. It’s the same medical technology that is used to help men with spinal cord injuries to ejaculate. It can be used on either a flaccid or erect penis. Tests have shown that it can induce climax even while the penis is flaccid! Of course, no toy is perfect for everyone, but given that this one was based on devices designed for those with little or no sensation, I think there’s a very real possibility it will be a great option for you.

This sounds like a really frustrating situation for you. I really hope some of this advice is helpful. I also really hope that seeking further medical advice specifically around the sexual side effects of your medication gives you some answers.

Today’s advice column is kindly supported by Hot Octopuss. Using any of the affiliate links in this post to purchase toys sends a small commission my way and helps support my writing and sex education work.

A man with his head in his hands for a post about the Hot Octopuss Sex Not Stigma mental health campaign

Sex Not Stigma: Using My Sexuality to Manage My Mental Health

Published on October 10, 2017July 16, 2024 by Amy2 Comments

Content note: this post discusses mental health struggles in detail and includes slurs and a brief reference to suicide.

Today is #WorldMentalHealthDay. Thousands of brave people have spoken out about their struggles with various mental health conditions. Personally, I live with depression, PTSD and anxiety.

I use a whole litany of tools to manage my mental health. I take medication, I’m working with The Best Therapist Ever, and I’ve learned to effectively regulate my physical and mental energy levels. I’ve also consistently found sex, masturbation and kink to be really useful and positive items in this toolbox.

#SexNotStigma

It is ridiculous to me that today, in twenty-freaking-seventeen, that there is STILL such stigma around both mental illness and sex. They are two of the great taboos that plague our society.

As a woman, admitting that you like to have sex can be a radical – and dangerous – act. Speaking up about a mental health struggles is risky and brave for anybody to do. Words like “crazy” and “psycho” are thrown around with abandon. People with mental health issues are routinely portrayed as dangerous. Services that actually help us are thin on the ground and getting cut left, right and centre. Being a woman who talks about sex and is also open about her mental health. Ohhh, boy…

I’ve had my promiscuity chalked up to my mental health conditions more times than I can count. (“Poor girl, she’s acting out sexually because she’s depressed” at best, or “crazy whore!” at worst.) Interestingly, the same has also been true in reverse (“you wouldn’t be so depressed if you’d stop sleeping around!”) But that’s not how this works! I’m a proud slut[1] AND I have a mental health condition. One did not cause the other and ceasing one[2] will not “cure” the other.

The #SexNotStigma campaign aims to break taboos when it comes to talking about sex, including that surrounding sex and mental health. This post is my attempt to add my voice to that vital conversation.

I wrote recently about how I don’t think “don’t play when you’re depressed” is useful or realistic advice, and today I want to expand on that and talk about why, far from being off-limits when I’m low, sexuality has probably helped save my life more than once.

Sex: intimacy, connection, love.

Some people want to be left alone and can’t bear to be touched when they’re depressed. My experience is usually the opposite. I want to be around the people I love and trust, to connect with them in deep and profound ways. Sex is one of the ways in which I connect with some of the important people in my life. Therefore, honestly, fucking my brains out (or at least fucking my sadness out for a while) is one of the best ways a partner can help me when I’m struggling.

Sex reminds me, viscerally and in the moment, that I am loved. For me, mental health wise, a really good fuck with someone I love is basically a cuddle on speed. Throw in a few dozen orgasms (yes, your girl over here is SUPER multi orgasmic) and you will see a marked improvement in the happiness of your Amy.

Sex helps me to focus on all the joyful things – pleasure, love, connection, vulnerability, sensation – in a world that’s fucked.

Sex literally reminds me that there’s so much to live for.

Masturbation: the ultimate self-love.

Self-loathing is a feature of my depression and an unwelcome visitor that likes to pop in from time to time. I’ve learned that the best way to combat it is to be excessively kind to myself – the way you’d be kind to a partner, friend or child who was in pain. Sometimes I take myself out for coffee and cake. Sometimes I give myself permission to stay in bed, read and nap – take a “mental health day,” if you will. And sometimes, I masturbate!

Aside from the obvious benefits of all the happy chemicals that are released at the point of orgasm, masturbation is a means of reminding myself that I am worthy and deserving of pleasure. And on the occasions when romantic rejection or the ending of a relationship triggers my depression, masturbation reminds me that my sexual (and loving!) relationship with myself is the first, last and most important one of my life.

Who needs that git who dumped me when you have cutting edge sex toys, am I right?

Kink: freedom in bondage.

Submitting to a safe partner can be really positive for me when I’m feeling low.

Kink, especially pain play, pulls me out of my head and into my body. It’s hard to be sad when all I can think about is the hand spanking my ass! It’s grounding. It makes all the noise in my head go quiet.

Submission makes me feel useful. When I feel worthless, a well-timed “good girl” can do wonders. To know that I am pleasing somebody else, that I am serving them, gives me a purpose. It reminds me that I have value.

Kink gives me permission to be vulnerable. Play gives me chance to cry if I need to, to scream if I want to, to get pent-up emotions out. It releases me from the responsibility of decision making, of caring for myself or anyone else, even if only for a short time. It gives me permission to just be.

Discovering new paths to pleasure.

Mental illness can impact sexuality in many ways. In particular, feeling very low can make it difficult to get in the right headspace to enjoy sex or orgasm. Certain types of common antidepressants including Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) can also cause erectile dysfunction and anorgasmia. When I first started taking citalopram – a common SSRI – I lost my ability to orgasm for a month.

Was it hell? Yes. Did it also teach me something valuable, namely that I kinda have an orgasm denial kink? Also yes. While this is something I prefer to be voluntary and not drug-induced, going through this experience taught me something really valuable about my fetishes. So there’s value in that.

Problems such as ED and anorgasmia suck (if you’ll pardon the pun) but they also force you to get creative. I finally broke through my month-long dry spell with a high powered vibrator. That’s how I learned that I love really intense vibration! If your cock isn’t getting hard in the way you want it to, you might discover other routes to sexual bliss that you’d never have previously considered or bothered to try.

Integrating the two.

I’ve come to terms, over ten years of having a formally diagnosed mental health condition, that it’s not going away. It’s with me for life and I am better off learning how to manage it than hoping it will disappear. Just like a diabetic would take insulin every day, I take my antidepressants to keep me healthy. (Conceptualising my illness as being exactly comparable to a physical health issue – BECAUSE IT IS – has been surprisingly empowering.)

I’ve also grown into my sexuality in the last ten years. From a girl who was terrified to admit, even in a whisper, that she liked girls and might want to be spanked, I’ve grown into a woman who owns her desires and explores them unapologetically.

And, crucially, I’ve learned to integrate these two things. When my bisexual, kinky and non-monogamous identities ceased to be sources of shame, my mental health directly improved as a result. When my condition started to be properly managed, my sex life improved instantly. And when I learned to use my sexuality to enhance my mental health, I gained a tool that has saved my life.

[1] Yay, reclaiming slurs!
[2] Because you can totally choose to stop being mentally ill, right?

This post was kindly sponsored by the lovely folks at Hot Octopuss, a fantastic and innovative sex toy company who are committed to tackling taboos around sex. Check out their brilliant range of products and their blog, where they talk sex, health and stigma.