When the eating disorder raged, sex was a huge challenge. It has been de-prioritised, sometimes impossible to carry out. Quite simply because my psyche could not see it and because I had physically shut down completely.
Orthorexia
I have been in focused recovery for orthorexia with bulimic and anorexic tendencies for almost a year now. Orthorexia is when health becomes unhealthy; that is, mentally consuming and, in my case, dangerous to my body. My everyday life consisted of exercise, calorie counting, meal planning, food rules and anxiety.
You can read online that eating disorders cause "low sex drive", but no more in-depth than that. And eating disorders are to blame for much more than low sex drive. They cause sexual frustration, bodily disorientation and it is impossible to navigate around your desire - it is easier to just shut it down.
Body and head
Throughout all my years in the clutches of the eating disorder, I have had a boyfriend, the same boyfriend. So therefore sex has been a natural part of everyday life. Especially because we were young and the hormones were at their peak. But for me, that changed when I really developed an eating disorder. While everyone else was busy exploring their sexuality, mine was dwindling more and more. I couldn't be present at the act itself, and I simply didn't feel like it. I didn't even want to feel like it. I actually think sex was pretty disgusting. It reminded me of something I didn't take a stand on at all; the body and its signals.
For me, sex requires me to be in the moment. But I was so used to living in my head and I had learned to disconnect it from my body completely. I could not feel my desires or my limits, because I had taught myself not to be present right now and here. I couldn't bring myself to decide how I actually felt. I couldn't bear to feel my body - or look at it for that matter.
Eating disorders and body dysmorphia often go hand in hand. I couldn't stand my body. I couldn't stand my boyfriend looking at me with lust. I simply could not see what he saw. If we finally had sex, my head was in a completely different place; "no my stomach looks so fat now", "I should definitely put on weight so my breasts get bigger", "okay, so if we have sex now, it means we don't need to again for a while" .
Opposing thoughts, always in limbo and an eternal internal discussion. And if it wasn't because I was completely mentally absent, I was always tired. I couldn't take it. I froze. I was terrified. All sorts of things that washed over me as soon as the mood set for sex. I. Mighty. Not. I didn't have the resources to go there, in an intimate and living space. My life didn't happen there. It was far too vulnerable.
A locked pelvis and puberty vol. 2
I was also always sick. Cold, something with the stomach or something else. I developed IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) in response to too high a protein intake and too high a stress level. Nor something that directly helps the desire for sex - or to show off naked - when you run around with a bloated stomach. My estrogen levels were too low, my period was missing as a result of too much exercise and too little calorie intake. My body slowly shut down.
I had excruciating coccyx pain, which I tried hard to get rid of through physical therapy and chiropractic. I had back pain. I had a pain in my hip. Every time we tried to have sex, it hurt. First in the coccyx, then a burning, stabbing pain along the labia. Doctor. Gynecologist. Specialist. "Vulvodynia" they said. "Well", I thought. With a feeling of clarification and a little joy that it was not my eating disorder that was to blame for the pain. Every time we tried the slightest touch, it hurt. I despaired. Felt like my femininity was destroyed. I didn't have my period, I couldn't have sex, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't function.
When I then began recovery for my eating disorder, I also contacted a urogynaecologist (a gynecologist with a special focus on the investigation and treatment of diseases of the vulva, ed.). She examined me, heard my story, massaged me, gave me exercises and I probably followed her words. "I wouldn't have offered you help if you hadn't been ready to get it," she said. "Okay, alternatively", I thought.
I was there 3 times. My tailbone pain of 4 years disappeared. The burning sensation when touched disappeared. My body slowly opened up again. My pelvis locking up and causing pain in my coccyx and hip was a defense mechanism. I wasn't able to take care of myself, so my body tried to do it for me. If I hadn't been mentally ready to open up, that "opening" of my pelvis would have been impossible.
I practiced yoga, practiced a lot of solo sex, read erotic novels, began to look at my boyfriend with new eyes. Slowly, as my hormones stabilized, my period returned. It was a huge milestone for me. I knew that it was from here that the unfolding of life took place. I practiced breathing. My breathing muscles had been so tense because I was only breathing very shallowly, just to survive. I slowly felt my body and my budding sexuality. I had to go through puberty vol. 2. I had to get to know myself, my limits and my desires again. Who am I without an eating disorder? How is my sexuality? What do I like? And how is my cycle?
I have had to learn to listen to my body and its signals again. I have had to learn what size sex is, what it is for me, the importance of it and how it should work. I have learned what pleasure is, both sexually but also in connection with food and social gatherings. I have learned how closely body and psyche are connected, and how important it is to feel what the body is trying to tell you. I still have periods when my sex drive is hugely influenced by my psychological point of view, like most others I would think. But now I know that it is not because my body is on alert. It is not due to a psyche that is on the verge of cracking. This is due to completely, ordinary, everyday drum space. And it's damn nice.
-S
