Anyone Seen My Libido?
It is difficult for me to write about sex right now. I’m just not feeling it. The writing or the need for sex. I usually can push myself to still to do either but these days, I am just lacking the motivation. My priorities have changed at the moment. It is incredibly frustrating that I haven’t picked the priorities myself, my health has chosen them for me. For a while I had been able to do it all: living a healthy lifestyle, doing my hobbies, writing, sexwork, studying. It wasn’t like I was on top of my game. But I had found a good place for myself where I didn’t feel too much pressure and things were fun. Now everything feels like have tos and huge mountains I have to climb. And I can’t even enjoy sex the way I have been used to for so long.
I haven’t been blogging as much as I usually do because my way of living right now could be classed as survival mode. I am trying to do the basics in my life and I do the bare minimum of things like sexwork and studying because there is a certain accountability. But other than that? I’d rather lie down and bingewatch some bad Netflix show or just stare at the wall. It is not a choice I actively make though. It is chosen for me by my mental illness. I just can’t. There is this invisible wall that I am unable to climb over.
Now, I have written about my depression and how it is has affected my lately already. My birthday a couple of weeks ago turned into a shitshow of flashbacks, breakdowns and suicide attempts. And somehow I assumed that it would get better after that. Like I had reached the top of the garbage pile that is depression and could now slowly slide down into a less debiliating bipolar episode. But that was not the case. And it is confusing because I am used to short term depression that I can handle. I thought that the months-longs hellfires were behind me. But mental illness is a tricky bitch. And I actually feel that I am worse off than I was two weeks ago.
I can’t do anything anymore. I can’t push through. And I am scared that this is one of those depressions that ruin everything that I have built up. Relationships, work, studies, friendships. I have had those before. And they are devastating. I am still fighting on. And I still get out of bed in the mornings. I still take care of my health. I get out for long walks. But my brain and body tell me that I should just give up. I don’t know how long I can keep this going. And I am fearfully remembering the times when I did nothing else than get in and out of hospital and spent years on a sofa or my bed, having given up. I fucking hate mental illness. I. Hate. It.
I sort of know what triggered my depression to get worse. I ended up in the ER a few days ago. It was not mental health related, but physical health related. I was in excrutiating pain and after five hours of pacing up and down the hallway, my Master could convince me to get to the ER. I got help there and everyone was kind. It is not that. For once, an experience at the ER was not traumatic for me. But it dragged me down. The pain, the fear, the having to go the ER during a pandemic (let’s hope that I didn’t catch that fucking virus on top of it all). I didn’t sleep at all that night. And after an adrenaline high and dissociating through the whole experience, I crashed and my depression has been pushed into the next circle of hell, it seems.
Usually, depression doesn’t have a huge effect on my libido. Sure, I am less interested but I can still get easily turned on. But this time, because of the severity of the depression, even masturbation has become a frustrating exercise. It is not like I don’t feel the need for an orgasm. I still want to. But my body reacts differently at the moment. It is confusing!
The other day, I was alone at home and I thought that some sexy time with myself would make me feel a little bit better. So I went to the bedroom, picked out my favourite sex toy, got naked and started to slowly play with myself. Only, there was no physical response. My body had turned into asexual ice. I thought that I maybe just needed it a bit rougher, because slow and gentle usually isn’t my thing anyway, so I picked a bigger and stronger sex toy. Nothing.
Surely, watching a bit of porn would help? I couldn’t find anything that would push me closer to where I wanted to go. Two hours later, six different toys tried and dozens of clips watched, sweaty and teary, I gave up. I was confused and angry. Sex had been my way to improve my mood for such a long time now, and it feels like one of my only positive coping strategies has been taken away from me!
Fortunately, when playing and having sex with my Master, I can still feel sexual pleasure. I might not get off as easily, but I very much enjoy being close to him. The pain he gives me is freeing, and floating in a submissive space doesn’t even need to be sexual for me. It helps me to just breathe out and not worry about anything. I don’t mind him using me for his sexual pleasure, I actually love when he does that. I am slightly worried that my lack of my otherwise high libido will eventually put him off. For him it is important to see that I am into it as much as he is, or he stops play.
I could of course fake it, but he knows when I do that. And in our sexlife, we have really tried to be honest with each other. And I don’t want to change that. But he has never experienced being close to me when I am in a deep depression like this that lasts longer than the depressions I usually have. It has been years since I last was this much affected by it. For me it is important that he doesn’t give up on me when it comes to sex. I might not be the horny slut he is used to right now, but I still want closeness and play. He just needs to push a bit more, and believe me that there is consent, even if my physical reactions are slower at the moment.
Fortunately, a lot of sexwork is about faking it anyway. I can still take sexy pictures, I can still moan in videos. Most people wouldn’t notice unless they look deeper into my eyes. But that is not what people looking for sexwork are interested in.
Things are hard right now. While I am stuck in this particular circle of hell due to my depression, sex and writing about sex have changed for me. But maybe this is what I can do. Writing about how difficult it is when your experiences change and you have to adapt to lower libido, lower self-confidence and a lack of motivation.