Tag: anxiety

Header image for Destiny Marshall guest post on losing your libido on antidepressants

[Guest Post] When Your Antidepressant is Anti-Libido by Destiny Marshall

Published on by Amy

Remember the fantastic guest post about navigating OCPD and sex back in October? I’m delighted to welcome writer Destiny Marshall (she/her) back again today with another post about antidepressants and libido – a struggle I know all too well! This post was inspired by, and forms a companion piece of sorts, to Karen Colby’s personal essay about losing her libido in her 50s and then finding it again in her 60s.

Over to Destiny!

Amy x

When Your Antidepressant is Anti-Libido by Destiny Marshall

Sometimes, we have experiences but don’t give serious thought to them until something or someone else draws our attention to them. That’s what happened to me when I read Karen Colby’s post about her sex life on Coffee & Kink. When she mentioned coming off certain medications and regaining her sex drive, I suddenly remembered my own experience with psychotropic medication.

For a bit of background, I grew up in purity culture, and it wasn’t until I was 20 that I had sex for the first time. Even before then, though, I knew I was really into sex. I had a multitude of crushes, and I was an accomplished flirter. Feeling guilty over my “sins” didn’t stop me from making out often.

Sometime after starting university, I broke out of purity culture. That was when I started actively considering having sex. The first time didn’t cause stars to fall from heaven, but it was beautiful and I knew I wanted to do it often. Once I started, there was no stopping me. I was sex-positive before I knew the term existed.

In 2020, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, clinical depression, and generalised anxiety disorder. My psychiatrist wanted to place me on medication. I was hesitant, because of some vaguely negative view of psychotropics. But I was at rock bottom, thanks in part to the coronavirus pandemic, and I needed help to get myself up. I was prescribed an antidepressant, and soon afterwards, an antipsychotic. And so it began.

I daresay that no doctor ever hands you a prescription and says, “Here’s to wrecking your sex life!” (though I haven’t seen enough of them to be sure.) In my experience, the only drugs worse for my sex life than those associated with mental illness were hormonal contraceptives, but that’s a whole other blog post.

I lost a great deal of control over my body while on the medication. I no longer had any say over when I wanted to sleep, because I was sleeping most of the time. I bloated up like a ball. My dreams got weirder and weirder. My already healthy appetite felt like it was on steroids. Worse still, I nearly had an aneurysm thinking I’d got breast cancer when I started secreting breastmilk (a side effect of risperidone that nobody tells you about). But, perhaps, no side effect got to me more than the loss of my sex drive.

At first, I didn’t notice what was happening. It started as feeling a bit disconnected when sexting with my then-boyfriend. I thought the physical distance between us was the matter, and I’d feel all spicy once I was with him again. But the anticipated spiciness still failed to come through when we got together in person. I couldn’t find my enthusiasm any more. I admitted to myself that I was having a low libido moment, and assumed things would be better next time.

I started getting worried when the next time was a lot worse. Here I was, with a person I loved and was crazily attracted to, and I didn’t want to kiss him. I didn’t want to be touched by him. I finally had a lightbulb moment and linked my libido dip to the drugs I was taking. It felt a bit comforting to know I wasn’t losing my love of sex out of the blues, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

I tried to fight my way back to being a sex lover. The disconnect between the great sex I’d had in the past and my present fumbling self was disconcerting. I tried going into a performative mode to keep my reputation alive, but it just wasn’t working. I didn’t feel like sex, and that was that about that.

Tired out, I surrendered. When sex partners asked what was up, I let them know I was on medication and as a result, was no longer in the mood. I started thinking that, perhaps, I might never like sex again. I started wondering what all the fuss about sex was about. Porn nauseated me. I forgot how it felt to touch myself.

On the flip side, I was feeling better mentally. Trading sexual pleasure for peace of mind seemed like a perfectly good bargain. Despondency soon gave way to acceptance. I had lost my sex drive to my drugs, and that was alright. I settled into my non-desire for sex. It wasn’t the end of the world.

I was on the meds for two years. I got quite a lot better. But the side effects had still not really worn off, and I was becoming weary of them. After two years, I did some research and weaned myself off the meds, since the psychiatrists wouldn’t listen to my consistent request to be taken off them (medical gaslighting is a real thing). I can’t remember what I expected, but my sex drive didn’t come roaring back. For some time, things were as they were. It didn’t help that I was far away from most of my sex partners.

But slowly, my desire was returning. I started off returning to masturbating. I was thrilled to feel horny again, even if slightly. When I had been with myself for a bit, I finally wanted to be with another person again. My hormones were still finicky, so the road to libido restoration was slow and bumpy. But it did happen.

I’m glad I got off the meds. They had done their job when I needed them to, and I was doing well with therapy. I’d gotten to the point where their side effects were beginning to outweigh their benefits. The medical community has a long way to go in listening to the patient, so it helps to be in tune with our bodies, to know what they need at each point and to honour that.

Looking back at the experience, I wish I gave myself more grace and didn’t feel the need to force a desire that wasn’t there. It’s alright to not want sex all the time, no matter how sex-positive you are. We needn’t place sex-god(dess) expectations on ourselves, and we have no business shouldering other people’s expectations, either.

Sex drive isn’t a constant. It dips and peaks, based on several variables. But what we can make a constant in our lives is being true to how we feel at any given moment. The best sex we’ll ever have is the sex we really want to have.

About the Writer

Destiny Marshall is obsessed with the interconnectedness of mental health and sexuality. When she’s not writing about that, she works on her meme scientist ambitions and gets to know her bed better.

Header image featuring a woman sitting on a sofa with a cat on her lap and a book by her side. For a post on tools I use to manage anxiety and depression

5 Tools & Strategies I Use to Manage Anxiety and Depression

Published on by Amy1 Comment

Like so many people, I’ve had mental health challenges since childhood. Anxiety of some kind is my near-constant companion, and fluctuating bouts of depression come and go in waves. Learning to manage anxiety and depression is an every day part of my reality, and something I’ve got pretty good at over the years.

In this post I wanted to share five of the tools and strategies that work for me. The same things may or may not work for you. We’re all different! If anything here resonates, take it. If not, find what works for you and do that.

Disclaimer: I use all these tools alongside support from professionals, including prescription medication and regular therapy.

Crafts

I am not a person who can meditate. Sitting still and trying to “just be with my thoughts” makes me want to crawl out of my own skin. Apparently this is pretty common for people with ADHD. What I do find meditative, though, is doing things with my hands. Crafts are amazing for this because they are just complicated enough to draw my focus, while also allowing me to mull things over in my mind and process.

Fibre crafts such as knitting, crochet and embroidery have played a central role in getting me through the most devastating breakup of my life and pulling me out of the resulting depression-pit these last few months. (You can’t ill-advisedly text the person who broke your heart if your hands are full of yarn, after all!)

Stories

It’s perhaps not surprising that, as a writer, one of the main ways I understand the world is through stories. Absorbing stories – whether through paper books or ebooks, audiobooks, TV, films, or other media – is absolutely essential in keeping my brain relatively healthy and functional.

When I need hope that there is still love out there for me, I reach for sweet sapphic romances. If I need to draw my attention away from spiralling anxious thoughts, an absorbing thriller that keeps me guessing can distract me. Redemption stories remind me that we can bounce back from our worst failures, utopias allow me to believe that the world can get better, and if all else fails it’s just nice to get lost in someone else’s world for a while.

My Weighted Blanket

I just recently tried a weighted blanket for the first time after hearing about them for years. Some studies suggest that the deep pressure provided by weighted blankets might help to promote relaxation, alleviate anxiety, and help people to feel calmer. Extensive anecdotal evidence also suggests their effectiveness.

All weighted blankets are slightly different. Mine is the size of a single quilt and weighs in at 15lb (just under 7kg) and is filled with glass nano-beads that apply pressure evenly across the body.

I have always found touch, pressure, and intense physical sensation to be helpful in pulling me out of my head and grounding me in my body. This is one of the reasons I like to get a massage when I’m feeling really stressed or anxious. I believe it’s also one of the reasons I like BDSM. The weight of the blanket is another way to apply firm, pressured touch to my body. Personally, I’m finding it a highly effective (not to mention cosy!) addition to the array of tools I use to manage anxiety and depression.

Extroversion

Does this sound counter-intuitive? There seems to be a pervasive assumption that people with anxiety, depression and other mental health struggles are always introverts. This just isn’t true. I have found that tapping into my extroversion is amongst my most powerful tools in helping me to manage anxiety and depression.

Extroversion is about craving connection with others and loving social interaction. Getting into extrovert mode and going out, even when part of me just wants to curl up with my cat and a strong gin, helps me to feel like a part of the world again. It reminds me that I can be fun, I can be engaging, I can chat and laugh and dance and flirt and feel happy, even if just for an evening.

Sex & Kink

I’ve probably fallen into the trap of using sex and kink to alleviate mental health challenges in not-very-healthy ways in the past, from attempting to use BDSM as a form of self-harm (FYI, no safe and reputable Top/Dominant will ever knowingly help you to do this!) to sleeping with people I probably shouldn’t have just because I wanted to feel loved and desired.

Fortunately, I’ve come a long way and I can now integrate sex and kink into my mental health toolbox in a much healthier way.

Having an orgasm, whether through masturbation or sex with a partner, can elevate mood and relieve stress. Connecting intimately with a partner can increase feelings of closeness, belonging, and being loved and cared for. Intense sensations from BDSM can be grounding. Getting into subspace can quiet the noise in my head. Getting into the flow of rigging a rope harness can be focused and meditative in much the same way as a craft project. And so on.

How do you manage anxiety and depression or other mental health struggles? Feel free to share your favourite tools and strategies.

Thanks to Simba for gifting me their weighted blanket! All views and writing are my own.

A man with his head in his hands. For a guest post by Ruby Bell on anxiety and sex

[Guest Post] Anxiety and Sex: How Panic Attacks During Sex Led to Me Getting the Help I Needed by Ruby Bell

Published on by Amy

I knew I wanted Ruby Bell to guest blog for me the moment I read one of her several brilliant posts for Girl on the Net. Thankfully, she agreed and pitched me this fabulous piece. You know that, here at C&K HQ, we’re all about the filthiest, sexiest smut… but we’re ALSO all about talking frankly about mental health and all the other complications of life. I’ll hand you over to Ruby, who is going to tell us all about panic attacks and sex. – Amy x

My partner has me against the wall. He has me blindfolded and he’s using a very powerful vibrator on my clitoris. These are some of my absolute favourite things… so why am I moments away from having a full-on panic attack? 

Living with anxiety isn’t easy, but it is something we all know a lot more about these days. It’s brilliant that people are talking more about mental health, and most of us are feeling a little less intimidated about sharing our true thoughts and feelings with those we love. Despite all of this progress, it doesn’t make having panic attacks any easier for those of us who struggle with them, and having panic attacks during sex is a part of anxiety not many people talk about. It’s certainly not something I ever expected to have to deal with. 

So, let’s talk about some of the science behind the madness of our minds. The release of oxytocin during sex magnifies emotions as well as promoting trust and empathy with your partner. This suggests that it can encourage a release of feelings that may have nothing to do with what is actually going on in that moment. Maybe you’ve had an argument with your mum recently. Maybe you’ve had a fucking awful week at work or maybe your mental health has just generally been suffering lately. Now you’re in this safe place with the person you trust the most, and all of these things are coming out. It’s quite common for some people to cry during sex, and this can easily go from a few tears to a panic attack if you suffer with anxiety or depression as well. 

The first time I had a panic attack during sex was only the second or third panic attack I’d ever had, which meant I hadn’t yet learnt how to spot the signs of an attack rising or how to calm myself down and prevent it from getting any worse. I barely even knew what a panic attack was! This ended up with me having a pretty out of control, I-can’t-breathe, sobbing-my-heart-out kind of panic attack in front of my (still pretty new at the time) partner… who is standing there enjoying edging me, watching me writhe and squirm with a thick hard cock as he does. 

Fortunately, he dealt with the situation even better than I ever could have asked for. He turned the vibrator off, he removed my blindfold, and when I replaced it with my hands to try and hide my embarrassment he pulled me close to him and held me against his chest. He asked if he had done anything wrong. I sobbed that he hadn’t, that I was enjoying it and I didn’t know why this was happening which actually panicked me even more. He told me it was fine, he told me to breathe and he walked me around the house reminding me to keep breathing. At the time, I thought it was strange and a little comical that two semi-turned-on people were walking around the house together, completely naked for no apparent reason as my face dripped with tears and mascara and my chest heaved with heavy, struggling breaths. I know now that the walking helped to ground me. It helped distract from the panic as well as allowing me to feel close to and loved by my partner. 

I’m lucky – now that I have worked on my mental health and my panic attacks in particular, if one does start to rise in me I know how to calm myself down and can reign it in before the main symptoms begin around 90% of the time. But having panic attacks during sex did two wonderful things for me – although I didn’t know there was anything wonderful about it at the time of course.

First of all, it changed the dynamic of my relationship completely. Up until the point of that first attack, my partner and I were still holding back things during sex and I was being careful not to come across as overly emotional or ‘crazy.’ Looking back, it was probably the reason that first attack manifested itself – I hadn’t been honest with my partner about the feelings I was having in our relationship and I was hiding who I really was, which is never a good thing. This attack led to me and my partner connecting emotionally on a whole new level that we never had before. I learned that my partner was not just the tough guy exterior that came across. Showing my own vulnerability and opening up to him allowed him to do the same with me, and this led to us having a much stronger relationship in the long run. I now know I can talk to my partner if I’m feeling anxious, depressed, panicked or anything else. I can tell him if I don’t even know what’s causing those feelings and we can deal with it together.

The second thing that first attack during sex did for me was make it clear I did have a problem that needed to be addressed. Up until that point I had struggled with my mental health for years without ever really facing it. I had several extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms which were in fact making things worse, and having my partner walk me around and remind me to breathe led me to learning how to deal with these feelings effectively. From that experience, I learned coping techniques that I still use today. Having that outburst in front of another person meant I had to face what was going on. It meant someone else could see that actually I wasn’t okay, I wasn’t coping. This led to me getting the help and support I so badly needed, as well as working on my communication regarding my mental health overall. 

I hope that anyone else dealing with panic attacks during sex – or at any other time – takes it as a sign that they need to deal with the emotions causing these attacks. Listen to the fact that your body has felt comfortable enough to open up fully in front of the person you are making love with. I think we all need to listen more to what our bodies and emotions are telling us. And perhaps if we take the time to stop and listen to ourselves, then there is a good chance things won’t ever need to get as far as a panic attack.

Ruby Bell writes erotica and is passionate about sharing her filthy sexual experiences and fantasies. Her sex-positive writing also includes mental health, self-care, and educational pieces. She wants to spread both arousal and information! She’s a sucker for BDSM, chubby women and growing her own herbs and spices.  

Ruby is a brilliantly smutty writer who has shared her work on Girl On The Net’s amazing blog a number of times over the past few years. You can check out some of her work here (warning – very NSFW) and keep yourself up to date on what she’s doing at @absolutely_ruby on Twitter, where you’ll find upcoming articles, occasional audio porn, and whatever else pops into her head. Ruby is also currently working on her first novel with hopes of publishing next year. 

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 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.

A banner ad for sex toy company Hot Octopuss, who sponsored a post on sex and mental health