Yep, we’re going there. This post probably will make you uncomfortable, but since so few people want to talk about this, I’ll do it.
Let’s get a few things out of the way before we start:
Content Warning: There is a brief reference to sexual trauma/assault.
Cringe Warning: I talk about my sex life, including and primarily my sex life with Phil. I don’t get into erotica level details, but I am talking about sex. If the thought of me in sexual situations makes your skin crawl, you should probably click away now … also never have a conversation with me.
My Sexual Orientation: It has been fluid over the years. Shame and societal pressure has caused me to lie and try to force myself to be straight or at the very least to “pick a side.” As of writing this my preferred label is “Queer” but if you’re uncomfortable using that word, I’m more along the lines of bisexual/pansexual with a preference towards females and non-binary people. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure out my sexuality and that should be a post of its own.
Alright, let’s get into it.
How Sobriety Has Affected My Sex Life
I’m a slut. Yes, I just said that; I am a slut. You would need your fingers, toes, and eyelashes to count the number of people I’ve been with. That being said, I know sex, I know good sex from bad sex, I’m pretty damn good at sex, and I know what I like … or so I thought.
Everyone tells you that “your hormones get all crazy when you first get sober,” but I always heard this from men or directed at men. They would talk about hypersexuality and male impotence. I never once heard anything about how sobriety affected female sexuality, but to be fair, in most cases, the group would be primarily male or even entirely male except for me. I don’t know why it was never even mentioned, they mostly talked about men controlling themselves or being able to get it up with their partner again, but nothing about what happens to women and what we could do about it.
When I first entered my IOP I refused to give up marijuana, my therapist was ok with this early on and called it “harm reduction.” So I kept smoking pot and occasionally taking a few extra pills “no big deal” I thought. During this time my sex drive and sexual ability were excellent, in fact, my usual Friday night was getting stoned, listening to some music, doing some weird shit, taking a bath with a bath bomb, and masturbating (hey I warned you this was going to get TMI!) I had no issues ever.
Then as I got further into treatment my therapist asked me to stop using cannabis, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, I mean I was having pretty damn great Fridays, but I really wanted to recover, so I did. (Side Note: before this, she obviously found out about the pills and immediately had me stop) I did get a somewhat distressed feeling when I quit but didn’t notice anything significant.
Then, over the course of a few days, I noticed I could not for the life of me reach orgasm. I was aroused, but couldn’t get anywhere, and it was making me so frustrated. It felt like all day I’d be aroused but couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I wanted to punch a hole in the wall I was so frustrated! This continued, and I was trying just about everything you can do alone just to reach orgasm. I was using every little thing that turned me on, using toys, using high powered vibrators, I was reaching the point of overstimulation. Some days I would eventually get there, but it would take 2 or more hours of extreme stimulation, to the point where I was numb or sore after, my entire body was aching! That’s how much I had to put into it. Here’s the worst part of it though; at first when I did finally reach orgasm they were great, as they usually were, then time went on, and they became less and less enjoyable. It became just a thing my body did, like a cough, or a sneeze, no pleasure or enjoyment. I don’t even know how to describe an orgasm that gives you no pleasure. It was awful because I felt like I had to spend the 2 hours of overstimulation to reach a climax that felt boring on a regular basis because otherwise I’d be frustratingly aroused all day. I wanted to scream.
I intended to talk to my addiction therapist about this at our next appointment, but before that time came I relapsed with opioids and benzodiazepines (yes, a very dangerous combination, I’ll write about that later.) During my relapse, my sexual ability came back, it almost made me not want to quit, but I knew I had to. When opioid withdrawal hit I obviously felt horrible and was so sick, but I’m going to tell you something gross; I was so sick I had my tub mat and some towels laid out on the bathroom floor for me to sleep on all day, after the first day passed I was obviously still too sick to leave my bathroom but my sex drive was still crazy high, so I was literally lying on my bathroom floor and masturbating in-between puking my guts out. Sexy.
After my relapse and withdrawal, my sex drive and sexual ability were really high. During this time I felt great sexually even though this when my whole downfall and needing rehab was happening. While I was in rehab they put me on 450mg of Wellbutrin, that’s the highest dose you can put someone with a history of an eating disorder on (due to my lowered seizure threshold.) I had been on a lower dose of Wellbutrin for a while, but once they raised my dose, my sex drive went through the roof. A 14-year-old boy had nothing on my sex drive; it was insane. My fiancé was coming to visit almost immediately after I was discharged, so I was obviously excited. I may have I given myself carpal tunnel syndrome while in rehab, thank god for private rooms amirite haha!
The day Phil was coming I was so goddamn horny I thought I was going to explode, I remember texting my friend “If Phil does [one of the little things that turns me on], I’m going to fuck him right in the airport! I don’t care how many watch lists that will put me on.” so we’re talking that level of excitement. When he finally got through customs and we drove home, everything felt pretty normal. We got in the house, brought his luggage upstairs, and settled in a bit. Finally, it was time to make a move on him. Things were going ok, but slowly my sex drive plummeted. I thought maybe I was tired, or maybe all the driving to and from the airport stressed me, or maybe the Naltrexone sickness was turning me off, but for the past couple weeks it didn’t matter how awful I felt, my sex drive was still at 300%. I tried to shake it off and keep going but absolutely nothing turned me on, I completely flatlined.
Once we were actually having sex, it didn’t feel that good to me, and it wasn’t just bad sex (a slut knows when it’s just bad sex,) something felt wrong. I had this horrible feeling deep in the pit of my stomach; I realized that what I was feeling was fear. I was actually scared that I was having sex. Yes, me, the slut, was terrified of having sex with her fiancé. I thought “this is someone I love, this is someone I’m attracted to, I shouldn’t be scared of having sex with him, I should be loving it!” absolutely nothing helped me shake the feeling. I think Phil could tell something might have been off and wasn’t having that great of a time either, but most likely chalked it up to his 13 hours of travel that day and my fresh out of rehab brain. We ended up stopping and giving the “I think we both need rest” excuse.
I got up to get ready for bed in the bathroom; my heart was racing, I felt dizzy, I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. I calmed myself down and just tried to think of what could have caused this. Was it something he said? Was it something he did? And so on. Once I ruled all those out, I stood in front of the mirror and wracked my brain for an explanation. Finally, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had never in my adult life had sex 100% sober, not once. To make it worse, I had never had sex with a guy while sober ever.
My first emotion was fear, then came embarrassment, then came a deep shame, all these emotions were running through me at the speed of light. I couldn’t have a breakdown now; I couldn’t process this realization now. I washed my face and reluctantly got back in bed with Phil. No amount of love could combat the level of shame and fear I was feeling, all of Phil’s cute little sayings and actions he does while we’re together in bed just made me feel cold. I asked to go to sleep and rolled over not facing him; I didn’t even want to give him a goodnight kiss. I spent quite a bit of time lying awake trying to calm myself down and tell myself, “but it’s Phil, you love him, having sex with him sober is no big deal!”
I questioned my sexuality, again. My drug use got severe at 15, and I didn’t realize I could possibly be attracted to guys until I was 16. When I was 17, I was raped, this incident eventually snapped me into hypersexuality. Not long after the rape happened, I lost my virginity to a person who at the time presented as a female lesbian. When I lost my virginity, it was an “interesting” situation, so I was 100% sober and knew I liked it. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to have sex with a guy, but I thought I might as well try it with someone I was comfortable with but would never have to see again if it went badly. I was so nervous that night, I was strung out and drunk, it was hard to convince the guy I was sober enough to consent. I enjoyed it, and after that I just went on a “let’s fuck as many people as we can” spree. This lasted years and the entire time I was using drugs.
So there I am, lying in bed next to my male fiancé who I love, wondering if my attraction to guys was really only the drugs talking and I was, in fact, a lesbian. After all, most of the fantasies I was having were about girls. I was panicking, I loved him, I was going to marry him, but I wasn’t sure I could have sex with him. Ever since I started trying to get sober, I’ve had many nervous breakdowns trying to figure out my sexuality. This is something I still can’t really pinpoint, and that night I lay there in a sullen state not sure what to do or say.
Everything felt brand new to me, I hadn’t experienced the world in a sober state in nearly a decade. Colors looked different, fabric felt different, music sounded the way I remembered but lost years ago, was this just another thing I had to get used to? I wasn’t sure if I should tell Phil all of my feelings. I did end up telling him that I felt like I just lost my virginity, and in a way, I kinda did. I was so sick for the rest of his visit that he didn’t really try much, and when we did, we didn’t get far. I was still completely flatlining sexually.
During the last day of his stay, I had my sex drive come back, it took all the way up until the final hours of his stay (as in, we were late to the airport) for me to make a move and try to have sex with him. I was attracted to him, I wanted to have sex with him, I was ecstatic I could feel these things again. When we got to it, he mostly wanted to give me oral, and I got off that way, and it was great, but once we moved to vaginal sex, I had the same freakout I did the first time. Nothing felt right, I felt like I had never done this before.
After he left is when the real problems began. This experience’s effect on my confidence; I am so self-conscious, I feel awkward, traumatized, and unsexy. I have no confidence; I had no idea so much of my self-confidence was based on my sexual ability. To go from feeling like I could be the hot, sexy, cool girl to feeling like an awkward, shamed virgin curled up on the floor made me cry. I spent time in front of the mirror doing ridiculous things like strutting around, and striking poses, trying to find my confidence again since this is obviously a problem with my job since, I have to be, you know, confident. I can’t look like a nervous chihuahua.
My sex drive flatlined again for a while, I couldn’t find any of my sexiness or confidence in me. Once my sex drive came back, I had the same issue with climax and frustration as before. I felt feel embarrassed all the time, but it’s more than embarrassment, and it isn’t shame, I don’t know what the right word to describe it would be. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, I feel like I just went through something traumatic, I feel in shock all the time, I don’t want to look at people or talk to people, I want to hide. Plus, questioning your sexuality on top of all of this when you’re 25 and engaged, is pretty rough on the mind. I can’t even play the part of someone who has an inkling of confidence, so I haven’t been able to work. I feel like shit.
This is something I’m still battling, I’m still having a breakdown, so I don’t even know how to end this.
Sorry for the TMI? You’re welcome for the TMI?
Note: I know I love Phil, and I know I’m still physically attracted to him, I’m just going through some shit.
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