My Whole Sex Life

I’m freaking out. I was awake at 4:00 a.m. this morning, obsessing about whether or not I might have a sexually transmitted disease. I’ve never had a STD before – probably through blind luck, although I’ve tried to be careful and use safer sex practices. I’m generally pretty comfortable with my level of caution versus erotic fulfillment, but this morning my anxiety has been through the roof.

I probably have some reason to be concerned. I have had some recent exposure through a couple of different vectors. The likelihood is small, but my ability to perform risk assessment is nil at the moment. When I start to worry, it’s a runaway train – my brain picks up speed until my entire being is consumed, careening out of control. I am a mess of what-ifs. The trust I have in my partners and our system means little in this state of fear. I feel paralyzed.

With any other health concern, I would approach it head on with medical care, information, and treatment. If, in fact, I do have an STD, I will deal with it this way as well as with full disclosure to current and future partners. However, in my fear befuddled state of mind, I’m having troubles calling the doctor’s office. A little bit of the hesitation is not wanting to have to explain, a bit misplaced shame about having a STD. Since no amount of internet research is going to tell me if I have anything or not, I’m going to have to deal.

Why does adding sex to anything make it terribly difficult? I totally lose it whenever I think something might be wrong with my cunt. I think that it’s related to being a survivor of sexual abuse. I don’t tolerate non-sexual pain or discomfort very well. I’ve worked hard for years to feel like I own my body and my sexuality. I don’t need some STD to go messing everything up. I think it’s also that transmission of a STD is often a breach of trust in a relationship.

I have often seen people disclose STDs in a very positive way. Until the early hours of this morning I wouldn’t have said that I believed that STDs were at all shameful, but when I suddenly applied the concept to myself, I ached with shame. I felt dirty and contaminated. I worried that no one would ever love me again. I winced at the necessity of hiding my sexuality, never dating again.

It’s not the first time I’ve had this freak-out, but I hope it’s the last. I’m trying to take the positives out of this situation. I’m feeling the seriousness of potential STD exposure. While I could cope with anything I had to, I really like my life. Sex should be about pleasure, not fear. Time to re-evaluate safer-sex practices with my partners and their partners. Time again to get tested for everything. I can handle this.

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” -Oscar Wilde

With Mother’s Day coming up, my family has been asking what they can do to celebrate me. Honestly, I feel honored, loved, and cared for pretty much every day. I know that I hold a special place in my family. I’m not one to turn down breakfast in bed or some hand drawn cards, but what I really need is some quality time by myself.

My children are my top priority. After that, I take time each week to have a date with each of my partners. Everyone works together to take care of the house and I have my own work. I do have some time for myself built into the system, but it often gets filled up with doctor’s appointments, shopping, cleaning, or meetings. Sadly, when I get time to myself in the evening, I usually fall asleep.

I do masturbate regularly. It means a lot to me to be able to give pleasure to myself at any time. I’ve realized though, that I am not giving myself the kind of attention that I would give to a partner. Quick and easy orgasms in the shower or at bedtime have immense value, but what if I were to actually make love to myself with deliberate intention?

So, for all of the moms out there – actually, EVERYONE – I offer a suggestion: schedule a date with yourself. Nourishing your own sacred sexuality is a gift that stays with you forever and not only benefits you, but everyone you love.

Here are some tips to get you started:

1. Find time and space to be alone. It’s important to give yourself several hours. If you can’t manage to be alone at home, or if being at home is too distracting, consider other creative solutions – renting a hot tub room, finding a totally private spot in nature, getting a hotel room for the night, or borrowing a friend’s home. Make sure that your children are in capable hands and that someone else will be responsible for anything that comes up.
   
2. Set the stage. Creating a special mood can enhance your experience. Putting clean sheets on the bed or lighting some candles sets this experience aside as something special. Play music that feels sexy to you. Get anything you might need (like drinking water, vibrator, or massage oil) readily available. Go naked, or wear something that feels sexy.
3. Relax. If you are anything like me, this might take a while. Turn off your phone. Step away from the computer. Do something that will help you let go of the daily stresses, whether that’s taking a walk, having a glass of wine, or sinking into a bubble bath. Focus on deep, even breaths, releasing tension with each exhale. Think about the things that make you happy.
4. Fantasize. Start letting out those private thoughts that get you turned on. Is there a movie star who makes you swoon? Some sex act too kinky to admit to your partner, but it gets your juices going? Bring it out! For this date with yourself, anything is possible.
5. Experience sensation. Wake up your skin. Start at your toes and work your way up, barely brushing over your erogenous zones. I like to keep my underwear on for this stage because the indirect stimulation to my genitals drives me wild. Use fingernails, feathers, massage oil, a wartenberg wheel, or whatever feel good and exciting to you. Pay attention to your whole body.
6. Build the energy. Slowly pay more attention to the areas that increase your arousal, like nipples, pubic area, and asshole – circling away and returning over and over. Listen to your body and your emotions. You want to prolong your pleasure as long as you can stand it.
7. Go for orgasm. This is a perfect time to introduce lube, a vibrator, a dildo, or whatever gets you off. You still want to draw out your pleasure, but now you can give yourself permission to focus on those areas that will lead to orgasm. Hold love for yourself in your heart and let it infuse your whole being. If you can stand the tension, bring yourself right to the edge of orgasm and back away again. When everything feels right, let the orgasm spill over.
8. Release. Just let go. You can send any residual stress out of your body on each wave of pleasure. If it feels good, try to prolong your orgasm or pause for a moment and start over at building to a new release.
9. Take care of yourself. You can give yourself aftercare. Give yourself plenty of time to bask in the good feelings. Let love for yourself seep into your skin. This is when I feel closest to the divine. You could go back to gentle sensations or drift into a few minutes of lucid dreaming. Drink water or eat a snack if you need to feel more grounded. Or jump up and run around naked. Whatever it is that makes you feel in love with yourself, do it now.

I don’t always orgasm when I make love to myself and that’s okay. When I’m by myself, I don’t have the stress of a partner who really wants to make me come. My only objectives are to love myself and experience pleasure. It’s a perfect time to explore the things that turn me on and develop a stronger understanding of my body.

As a mom, it’s sometimes hard to feel like I own myself, my time, my body. I don’t often get a chance to make love to myself, but when I do, I feel better all over. I challenge you all, but especially the moms on this Mother’s Day, to give yourself this gift!

His hand was in my cunt. I was guiding the vibrator on my clit. His other hand strayed to my nipples. This is the easiest way to make me come. We had just done extensive 69, letting the energy cycle and build as we explored each other with hands and mouths. We fucked doggie-style, his balls slapping my clit as he used my hips to thrust himself deeper inside me. It’s one of my favorite positions, but I wasn’t quite ready to orgasm when his release hit. So he flipped me over and went for my g-spot.

Like I said, the g-spot/vibrator/nipple stim combo is a sure way to get me off. It’s also how I squirt or how we go about fisting. It’s often the way we cap off sex, even if I do come during foreplay and/or intercourse. I’m usually good for 2 or 3 more orgasms. I like it a lot – but sometimes I’m not emotionally ready to come.

I enjoy sex the most when I am fully present in my body and my emotions are in sync. Masturbation can sometimes feel very empty to me when it’s just a release in my body and not an emotional release. Sex with partners is almost always a fully integrated experience. I like the physical orgasm, but getting everything lined up feels amazing. Sometimes I can’t even orgasm if not all of me is in alignment.

So even after fabulous mutual oral sex and some fantastic penetrative fucking, some part of me was still holding back. My body was responsive, turned on – my mind hadn’t yet caught up. I’ve been dealing with a lot of anxiety lately. I just needed more time.

His fingers inside me were excruciating in their skill. I felt hyper-sensitive. I kept the vibration on my clitoris indirect because it was so intense. My nipples responded to his touch in ways that made me suck in my breath. I tried hard to ride the crest of pleasure peaking in my body, but the horse left the gate without a rider. I came without really wanting to.

That felt kind of bad. I had been trying to orgasm. I wanted release. I ended up feeling like it happened to me rather than for me. Coming like that made me feel like I wasn’t in control of what my body was doing. I can understand why some people are turned on by forced orgasms, but I don’t think it would be my kink. I enjoy the slow build of sensation that drives me forward until I fill up, spill over, and start again. I like that coming makes me feel clean and renewed and closer to my partner.

I decided to ignore that orgasm that was so unsettling and have the orgasm I wanted. It was as though that first orgasm cleared my body of all of the restless stimulation. I felt more grounded, more able to follow the growing arousal. When I came a second time, I was ready. My orgasm and emotions twined together, spilling out in gasps of pleasure and tears.

We talked through my experience after everything had settled down. Being able to have these discussions makes me feel seen and validated. I want my partners to know what is going on with me, especially while we are making love. Having energetic (energy aware) sex is very important to me, so communication is vital because my partners are more likely to feel my emotional state during moments of intense connection, like sex. I am less likely to get what I want if I can’t talk about it.

This is what it comes down to for me: Communication is good. Orgasms are good. Coming before you are ready is unsettling, but coming with your whole self is the best thing ever!

Perhaps it’s true that pity can get you laid. It certainly seemed to work for Joel today, when I felt so sorry for him that I was willing to drop everything and get him off. Except, that’s not really the story…

See, he had an accident yesterday. We were out on the road, playing around with the children. Joel had a pump scooter and he was racing one of the children who was driving the Green Machine. Suddenly, the handles separated from the base of the scooter and Joel took a header. I was 30 yards away and missed the fall, just that he was up one moment and down the next.

I was scared. He caught himself largely on the balls of his hands, but also smashed his glasses and scraped his face and his knee. He’s basically fine, but for a split second, I wasn’t sure if he had suffered a heart attack or what. It was enough to make me very, very grateful for what I have.

Today Joel’s hands are so bruised and swollen that he can’t do much with them. He’s walking around holding his hands up like a surgeon with sterile gloves. I spent the morning doing my normal busy things, ending half an hour later than I really wanted to get ready for an appointment. About ten minutes before I needed to leave, Joel casually says, “I have an embarrassing question.”

Now, embarrassment can cover a lot of territory, so I asked, “Embarrassing for you or me?” He owned as how it’s likely to be awkward and uncomfortable for us both. I was intrigued. I pushed for him to elucidate, but he simply asked me to go upstairs with him. There, he leaned against the corner and kind of looked at his shoes.

“Well,” he said, “I’m just really horny, and it hurts too much to get myself off. Would you be willing to help me…” He trailed off, but looked at me hopefully. I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. Joel is normally so dominant – sweet, but used to being in charge. Seeing him in this predicament made my love for him well up, but it also struck me as really funny!

Of course I couldn’t let the poor boy suffer that kind of overwhelming desire without surcease. Still chuckling, I took him into the bathroom and had him strip. I took my top off so he could see my breasts bounce because I know that gets to him. I leaned him up against the counter and started on his cock, Realizing almost immediately that lube would improve this experience, I ran back to the bedroom and returned with my hands all goopy.

It was a lot of fun having him helpless in my hands, without him being able to reciprocate. I had one flash of being worried about being late and feeling annoyed about doing this, but it quickly faded in the face of his pleasure. Working my hands in various patterns and rhythms, I could soon tell that he was about to blow. I spread my legs so he wouldn’t hit my jeans, and angled his cock at the floor, just as he spurt all over the bathroom tile.

It turns out, I wasn’t late for my appointment, and I got to save the day. It wasn’t actually pity that I felt. I thought that Joel’s vulnerability in asking for what he wanted was very sweet and courageous. I know he isn’t always comfortable in that space. It allowed me to connect with him in a way that is somewhat atypical for us. I enjoy taking care of him. I get where he’s at. Maybe that’s really what is was – sympathy sex.

This morning I had an epiphany: I am not treating my body with respect. I have worked hard to have a good body image and to listen to what my body wants during sex. I eat foods that are right for me and nourish me properly, but I’m terrible when it comes to not feeling well. When I have health challenges, I do my best to ignore my body’s messages.

I am reminding myself that embodiment, existing fully in the physical self, is not just about sex. To be sure, being present in your body makes for wonderful sex, but it should carry over to other areas of life as well. When I was contemplating that, I was suddenly able to see the patterns that surround my difficulties being kind to myself when I am ill.

As a child I was in a lot of physical pain. For example, I had constant ear infections and ruptured ear drums. Once I broke my wrist and wasn’t taken to the doctor. Because there was abuse in the home, I think that going to the doctor happened rarely, like going to the hospital when my sister almost died from pneumonia.

I was taught to ignore my body’s signals, keep them to myself, not tell anyone about them. I felt ashamed because I thought that anything wrong with my body was my own fault. I was afraid that I was bad for feeling pain, and no one wanted to know about it. I was convinced that no one would believe me if I spoke, and I’d be punished for causing problems. At the same time, I was also terrified that something serious might really be wrong with my body and no one would do anything to help me.

Many of these childhood messages around illness have been further reinforced by my later experience in the culture at large. We’re encouraged to “suck it up” and go to school or work even when we feel pretty bad. People with chronic illness and/or disabilities are often looked down on. They aren’t seen as strong in this culture where we revere the ability to endure pain. I cringe every time I hear a parent tell a child to “man up” or “be a big girl” instead of comforting the hurt. We are taught that pain does not exist, or when it does, it’s weak, embarrassing, or maybe even crazy.

I think some people are drawn to BDSM because it can provide a controlled, “acceptable,” form of pain. Experiencing or providing pain in this context is letting one pain stand in for another, or granting the release of built-up pain. It’s not a bad idea, kind of like going to therapy to work out emotional pain – setting aside time to hurt. Perhaps BDSM is often misunderstood because people do spend so much time denying their pain.

Ignoring pain and sickness is occasionally necessary, as when there are no other options to take care of children, but I have made a habit of it. No, I think I never learned how to listen to my body in this way. I’m trying now. I think being aware of my body around pain and illness is going to be challenging because it brings up a swirl of emotions that are hard to sort, but I know some part of me really wants to be heard, wants to be comforted.

This shift in my way of thinking will help my body get more of what it needs. It will help me negotiate better with unhealthy impulses, such as cravings for foods I’m allergic to. Being able to acknowledging my own discomfort will let my family support me better. I’ve often felt so ashamed and scared of my own pain or illness that of course people don’t know how to treat me, which plays right into my fears that I will be punished or at least derided for malingering. If I can admit to myself that I do actually have some chronic health problems, then I can give myself permission to go about seeking appropriate support and medical help.

I want to be in my body the way I can be during sex – unselfconscious and aware. I think this will make losing weight easier, being more fit easier, and improve my overall health and happiness. I do love my body and all of the sensations I experience in it, and I want to own it all. I’m ready now to accept being embodied.

Tomorrow I turn 40. Today feels like New Years Eve at the millennia – I’m ready to leave my past behind me and journey into a brave new future. I know that things will change, and inevitably some things will also stay the same. The past decade has already been a time of intense change and action for me. I’m ready to settle down and enjoy the fruits of my labors.

40 feels so final somehow. The end of my youth. I am wading through an internal dialog I didn’t know I had. Things like, sex ends at 40, which I consciously know to be untrue. I have internalized a bunch of societal messages that say I should try to minimize the lines around my eyes, stop wearing bikinis, lose weight, wear sensible clothes, and stop dying my hair purple. I try to ignore any thought that starts with “I should…”

Looking at my 40′s, if I buy into how our culture tends to handle sex after 40, I’ve only got a few options. I can start lying about my age, perhaps pose as my 21 year old’s sister rather than her mother. I can start trying to seduce her friends. This option involves wearing a lot of makeup and tight clothes, saving up for plastic surgery. Or, I can lapse into obscurity – say farewell to my sexual self and devote my energies to something real, like volunteering at school events, where I channel my bitterness and frustration into backstabbing the other moms.

I like to think that there are other options. Infinite options. Where people get to be who they are and want to be, regardless of age. Regardless of any identity that might seem to limit expression.

I started writing publicly about sex and publishing sexy images of myself at the age of 32, after having four children. At that point, although I was following my heart, I felt that I was probably too far past my prime for anyone to be interested. I decided not to worry about it. I’ve always written from my soul though. I’ve shown myself as I am, with all of my flaws.

This is how I try to change the world – just by being me.  We need enough people to stand up and say, I am a mom and I’m sexy. I am fat and I’m sexy. I have stretch marks and I’m sexy. I’m naked and I’m not wearing makeup and I am still sexy. I am who I am and that’s sexy! I’m over 40 and I’m sexy!

Not everyone is going to find me sexy. Even if I fit my idea of perfect, not everyone would be attracted to me. The important thing is that I feel sexy. Being confident and secure in my sexuality will give others permission to connect with me on a sexual level. This is one of those things that being another year older isn’t going to change.

Being sexual after 40 isn’t tasteless, embarrassing, desperate, or indecent. It’s normal. I am blessed to have many role models for what a healthy and active sex life looks like. And most of them happen to be over 40.

If there is anything that I am taking away from this birthday, it’s that turning 40 is helping me to free myself from a bunch of myths and limitations that I didn’t even know I was carrying. I see this next decade as a time of personal depth and security for me. A time where I will very much enjoy sexual freedom with elegance and grace. Or fishnets and butterfly knives. Whatever.

Is it possible to have too much sex?

My brain and my sex drive say no way, but my body would like to object. I’ve been trying to strike a balance between the two, finding new and more creative ways to gratify my desire for sex, while giving my more delicate bits a rest. I’m a cheerful mess.

The muscles in my thighs and shoulders are sore – the result of some aerobic fucking. My clitoris is hot and throbbing. Masturbation and vibrator use has quite worn it out. Despite my attempts to stop pushing the button, sometimes the need has simply overcome my good intentions. Experiencing a little bit of a stinging sensation last night convinced me to stick with penetration. All the area of my mons is bruised from too much pressure and impact. There is a dull ache in my lower abdomen, presumably from repeated thrusting deep inside my cunt. My breasts feel overly full, nipples relaying an ecstatic thrill with every random graze of touch.

It actually makes me happy to be aware of my body this way. Sometimes my lust builds on itself, with my heightened awareness of my physical responses turning me on even more. For example, driving a distance home after rough sex and being doubly aroused by the seam of my jeans rubbing across my clit reminds me that I am a highly sexual being who needs release. It’s a cycle that winds me up to great peaks of pleasure.

Maintaining a constant (even low grade) level of arousal can be a lot of fun. Harold and I spent about 24 hours before our last date engaging in fantasy, making out, and a tiny bit of heavy petting. We did our best to inflame passion in each other. He offered to go down on me in a parking lot, but I wasn’t that far gone. I prefer my exhibitionism to be consensual for everyone.

The morning of our date I took a long luxurious bath, reading erotica and chatting with Harold over IM. For the first time in ages I got myself off with my fingers. Then I carefully chose my clothing to fit my mood and the fantasy we had been discussing. Everything helped to set the stage for our time together.

When we made it down to the cabin, I had some idea of taking photos, but we were both too excited. My cunt was soaking wet. I was breathless with anticipation. One kiss led to a big open mouth, tongue thrusting make out session. With every step we took, we fell further down the rabbit hole. Like dominos, each action inevitably brought us to the next, elevating our desire to a firery fierceness. We wrung every bit of pleasure out of that afternoon.

Letting the intensity die down a bit after that, I was able to listen to my body complain about being used so hard. I paid attention. I put antibiotic ointment on my clit because it stung like a fingernail scratch. I took cranberry supplements to stave off any chance of bladder infection from so much oral sex. I used a boric acid capsule in my cunt to avoid a yeast infection from penetration, even though Harold used gloves for digital manipulation. I take care of myself.

Our connection didn’t totally die. When we climbed into bed and fell into each other’s arms I felt the lust surge back up again. I wanted this man, wanted to hold him inside me, wanted to thrust into his soul. He was hard almost immediately and I was ready to go without any foreplay. We fucked for a second time that day, lush and lusting. When we were done I used the vibrator to come again.

I’m still going through my day feeling mildly aroused. Despite various pangs, I masturbated in the shower this morning. I am walking a knife’s edge between maintaining physical comfort and fulfilling physical desire. If my mind or emotions ever tell me to stop, I will. Sometimes this much intensity makes me feel uncomfortable. Occasionally, frustration over lack of fulfillment makes me break down.

Is this sex addiction? I don’t think such a thing exists. Can you be addicted to love? Or air? Everyone needs sex. It’s true that some people are prone to obsessive behavior around sex. People tend to make the same mistakes over and over, hoping for a better outcome, but addiction? My behavior during these times doesn’t hurt anyone and isn’t out of control. It’s more like living in a favorite erotic novel.

Too much sex? No, not yet enough for me.

I think the worst feeling I have ever experienced is knowing that I’m alone in the world and beyond hope. Even when I’ve had people in my life who cared about me, there have been times when I’ve felt trapped in my own mind, unable to form connections or accept love. At times like that, it seems like the more I want someone, the more likely I am to push them away. It’s impossible for me to believe that anyone could want me.

Today is World Mental Health Day. More than 350 million people across the globe are affected by depression and less than 10% get treatment, despite the existence of effective treatment options. An additional 100 million people world-wide suffer from other mental health disorders. Without mental health, there is no health. And mental health is imperative for a healthy sex life.

My experience

I’ve struggled with Bipolar Disorder since my early teens. Suicide attempts and wild behavior colored my formative years. I wasn’t diagnosed until things reached critical mass when I was 21. At that time I was also experiencing intense Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, unable to eat without throwing up or sleep without terrible nightmares.

More recently, after the birth of my last child, I found myself drowning in Post-Partum Depression.

I don’t let these things define who I am or limit how I live my life, but they’ve presented huge obstacles to overcome. In particular, each of these conditions has affected my ability to have the kind of sex I want.

Bipolar

I actually prefer the term Manic Depression because it’s much more clear. People with Bipolar experience mood shifts between wild euphoria and bottomless depression. Mania has often kind of scared me because I feel out of control. I think faster than anyone can keep up with. My sex drive totally kicks in. I feel super turned on all of the time and I crave risky behavior. I want to do crazy things that push my limits. While I’ve never gone this far, it is definitely a time when I feel I could take on the whole football team. I don’t have good boundaries or decision making skills when I’m manic. When I was younger I would often violate relationship agreements in a fit of mania. Since then I’ve learned to be responsible for myself all of the time, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t take advantage of a manic state for some hot sex!

Depression can be extremely hard because it is so insidious.  Depression steals my self-esteem and I don’t even realize it. I just feel ugly, slow, and pathetic. It’s difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Every step is like wading through a swamp of oatmeal. I try harder when I’m depressed, present more, dress up and wear more makeup. I often feel very little desire in this state. Sometimes, though, I can use sex to try to circumnavigate the numbness. What I really want is to be loved and held, but I don’t feel capable of being loved. When we do make contact, it can be very sweet and life-affirming.

PTSD

When someone lives through a horrific experience, the experience can get put away in the brain as raw data (sights, smells, sounds, etc.) and not as the kind of processed stories we normally have as memories. Later, if something happens to bring that event up again, it literally seems to be happening all over again, right now. It feels real and immediate. This is what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is about. When people who have PTSD react, it can seem totally irrational, until you look at it in the context of the original trauma.

Because my PTSD has been around childhood abuse and rape, I spent many evenings in my early 20’s starting off feeling sexy in bed and ending up naked hiding in the closet shivering.

Post-Partum Mood Disorder

Post-Partum Mood Disorder is a constellation of mental health disorders brought on by the extreme shift in hormones following the birth of a baby.  Mothers, fathers, and adoptive parents can all experience it. Depression and anxiety are its most common forms.

PPMD is particularly troubling because having a baby is already a stressful and isolating time. I was lucky because when I had my youngest four years ago, I had the support of a poly family. Still, it was a difficult time, during which I gained about 40 pounds, was afraid to be alone with the baby, and feared abandonment constantly. I know that I had sex during this time, but I don’t really remember it. I had body and attachment issues. It was hard to be me, but I wanted to use sex to make sure that people would still love me. It was all I could do to get from moment to moment and day to day. I joined OKCupid for some positive feedback.

What you can do

If you believe that you are suffering from a mental health disorder, or even if you just want to make changes in how you interact in your relationships and improve your sex life, the first thing to do is talk to your doctor or a public health clinic. Get a referral for a therapist and someone who can help you assess if medications might help you. There are many alternatives to medicine, but this is not a bad place to start, especially if you have been living under this cloud for years. It is important to have both pieces: medication and talk therapy. Medication can change the chemical imbalance that’s happening in your body and therapy can help you figure out how to change the patterns in your life that are problematic.

Not all health care providers are created the same. Make sure to find people that you can trust and talk to easily. Don’t be afraid to decide that your provider is not working for you and find another. This person is going to be a vital member of your health team – make it right. Also, own your care. It’s hard to be assertive when you don’t feel strong, but please speak up if you don’t agree with a diagnosis or care plan. Passively agreeing to something you won’t do is just a waste of time. Own your health care!

I have been able to do amazing things by taking Lithium regularly and working hard in therapy. I have been able to minimize the impact of both mania and depression. I’ve worked through debilitating anxiety, learned how to have healthier relationships, and come to feel better about my body. I’ve even been able to work through the PTSD memories so as to see them as a cohesive story and put them away like regular memories. It’s a lot of work, and things are still hard sometimes, but I have hope. I know that these are things I am doing to have the life I want.

What you can do for someone you love

Loving someone who lives with a mental health disorder is challenging.  They may not want your help and you need to respect that. If they do want you to help, do what you can to understand that their actions do not reflect on you. For example, when one of my partners is unhappy, I tend to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I try not to take that on, but instead to address the unhappy feeling in a caring and supportive manner. For someone who’s life is seriously out of control however, you may need to step in. Do some research. Find a doctor and a therapist. Go with your loved one to the appointments.

Find ways to connect with each other. Sex might be a good way to be close. For some people sex transcends the mood disorder. For many, many people though, sex becomes next to impossible. That doesn’t mean that they don’t need love and affection. Don’t give up. Find ways to be close to each other anyway, that are comfortable for both of you. Go for a walk and hold hands. Brush each other’s hair. Cook together.  Read a story aloud. Write them a love letter. When things are hard, write a list of all of the reasons you fell in love. If you really need to find sexual outlet somewhere else, have a frank and honest conversation. Find a way to do it respectfully.

Make sure that you take good care of yourself. You are important too.

Remember that it will get better.

Because it will get better. Somewhere along the way I forgot to count the minutes. Then I forgot that I was barely getting through each day.  Things got better. I get sick and tired of working on my stuff all of the time, but it makes a huge difference. Every day I get stronger.

I don’t generally make a big deal about my mental health issues. When I was young I was told not to let anyone know because I would be stigmatized. I think that’s crap. Everyone has their issues and so few people ever seek help. If just one person reads this and it changes how they think about mental health, I will be happy. Maybe you are that one person. Are you tired of how hard you have to work to make it through the day? What if you could use that energy for other things, things that bring you joy? What if addressing your mental health issues could let you have the kind of sex you want to have? Is it worth it now? Don’t give up hope.

By David Steinberg

My lover is 24 years older than me. That didn’t seem like a problem at first. We felt like teenagers in love together.  He felt like my peer, my equal, my partner in crime. Sure we had different experiences growing up, but that was largely cultural – east coast money vs. west coast hippy. Then we got pregnant and I started to think about how old he would be when our baby was born, went to kindergarten, graduated from high school…

He was 58 when we first got together. We had danced around each other for a few years before that. We have always had a strong sexual connection. I think I let that blind me into ignoring our age difference. In fact, age doesn’t mean anything to me. We are who we are and we fit together fantastically. That’s all that matters.

Except that lately, it matters more. He’s almost 64 – that magical Beatles age – and I will indeed still need him, still feed him when he’s 64. I’m watching him age. There are more lines in his face. He was having erectile problems, but through a radical diet change, these problems have largely self-corrected. I don’t need him to have a hard-on for good sex anyway. He’s running in the morning now too. He’s taking care of himself which I respect so much.

He is 24 years older than me. Considering that men tend to die at a younger age than women, he is very likely to die before me. I guess it’s taken me 5 years to fully realize this fact. This man who is the greatest passion of my life is going to abandon me, not because he wants to but because nature will demand it. I get angry and sad when I think about it.

And then I think, why borrow grief from tomorrow? Why not wring every drop of joy from today? I have so much to learn from him and wild experiences to share with him. I will be devastated to lose him, but the love that we share will always be mine. I plan on making every moment an adventure until one or the other of us stops breathing. Who can say what will happen? If it comes to it, I will take pleasure in caring for him when he can no longer do it himself. He has saved me a hundred times over. Our relationship is characterized by the tenderness we have for each other. Why not celebrate it now and always?

By David Steinberg

This coming to terms with mortality is changing how I look at my relationships. Things can change so suddenly, and while I don’t want to put energy towards a negative outcome, this risk of loss has honed my appreciation for the people I care about. No more taking my lovers for granted. Every kiss is precious. Each love is to be cherished. I challenge each of you to contemplate what it would be like to suddenly be without your love(s). Now use that information to create the today you desire. Life doesn’t last forever.

I believe the most effective and radical act you can do to change the world is to be open and honest about your whole self. It’s hard to do to. It’s scary. It could be life threatening or cause you to lose everything you hold dear. And yet, I think many of us reach points in our lives where it becomes more painful to repress the truth about ourselves than to face our fears.

I recently had an opportunity to exchange emails with Kendra Holliday of www.thebeautifulkind.com. She is an amazing woman who has been blogging about her life for six years and has faced many challenges, but ultimately has been able to create the life she wants for herself and her family. Kendra is someone I admire because she is just such a radical activist. She is incredibly brave and she is educating people everywhere she goes.

Because I wanted to know how Kendra manages to be so open, I asked: You are the only person (besides myself) that I have seen blog honestly about their sex life while still being real about being a parent, AND you use your real name (I assume) and photos of yourself. What kind of consequences have you experienced since you “came out” and what have you gotten out of it? Is it more satisfying to be open?

I wonder where you are located? [Editorial note: near Seattle.] That makes a difference. I’m in the Bible Belt, St Louis MO, right in the middle of the U.S. It’s a conservative area, but not as bad as many think.

I do use my real name and pics of myself when blogging about parenting and my sexuality. I feel it’s important to demonstrate that people (particularly mothers!) are complex beings. It’s not healthy to deny or compartmentalize ourselves so much. It’s healthier to be fully integrated. Trouble is, that is very difficult to achieve in our society. People fear losing jobs, kids, families if people were to find out who they really are!

When I came out as a sex-positive mom in Oct 2010, I faced some serious persecution. Before I came out, I lost my job for having a sex blog. After I came out, I was ostracized, judged, and my ex-husband sued me for full custody of my daughter. I almost lost her and my house. I went into debt. It was very scary.

BUT I did not back down, I didn’t cave, I stood my ground. I walked through the fire and got out on the other side. And it was SO much better on the other side! It got better.

Now, I enjoy the respect of the community. The media contacts me for my opinion on issues that are near and dear to me. My relationships are stronger than ever. People who said terrible things about me and turned on me returned, sheepish and apologizing. I have a good job where my activism is a non-issue. I was able to keep my house. Best of all, my ex-husband dropped the suit against me right before it went to trial. He realized he could not prove I was an unfit mother. I’m a single mom working full-time and am raising an amazing, creative, knowing daughter. She is wiser than most adults I know!

I think everyone should explore their role in society on their own terms. Obviously a pre-school teacher couldn’t do what I did. At least not right now. But I’ve seen more and more people successfully claiming their sexual rights, and it’s extremely heartening. I’m proud to be an example. I hope my story inspires, and I’m very excited for my 12 year old daughter’s future – I think we’ll see a lot of progress by the time she’s 18!

Thank you for fighting the fight as well!
Kendra

Please show Kendra and The Beautiful Kind your love and support. Also www.sexstl.com, www.twitter.com/TBK365, & www.facebook.com/thebeautifulkind!