Tags: depression, disability, medicine, TMI
In my last blog post, I wrote about losing about ~8 months to another bout of depression. I’ve had long episodes of depression off and on since I was a child. It’s been years since the last time I had depression. Frankly, I kind of figured this was going to happen again sooner or later, based on my own mental health history. For a long time though, the depression wasn’t an issue… or whatever depression I did have, could easily be attributed to a more pressing concern – chronic vulvar pain & painful sex! The pelvic pain problems were priority #1.
Eventually though, the depression came back, even though at this point I have most of the pelvic pain under control (most of the time, for now…) (I’ve often thought to myself, ‘If I have a lid on the painful sex and chronic pain, why am I still depressed?! I should be happy for that reason alone!’ Nope. It worked that way for awhile! But then it didn’t anymore.)
As I said in my last post, I started seeing a therapist for mental health counseling… with little to no improvement over about ~6 months. Things came to a head when I developed a new, unrelated pelvic problem – a vulvar cyst. Given my history of vulvar pain problems, the cyst was the last straw. The stress of the cyst + depression pushed me over my personal minimum thresh hold required to justify taking on the risks of sexual side effects due to antidepressants – and the risks of Stigma associated with medical treatment for mental illness. Some of you have heard the litany of Stigma before – I’m talking about having overheard and read stuff like, “Big pharma is inventing new illnesses and making big cash over it! The risks of side effects aren’t worth medication! Haven’t you tried alternative, natural medicine yet? You just need to take some extra vitamins, get some sunlight, exercise, etc. Americans are all over medicated anyway. You should be thankful for what you got! Willpower/Bootstraps!” (Obviously I’m paraphrasing; basically channeling stuff like this.)
I tried it the way proponents of more natural, less invasive, more holistic treatment options suggest.
The non-medical stuff didn’t work out for me.
I wasn’t making progress with talk therapy alone – or rather, talk therapy + the stuff that came out of talk therapy like: recommended reading + some homework exercises + goal-setting + etc. Unfortunately, additional supplemental holistic treatments in conjunction with talk therapy aren’t a practical option at this time either. I no longer have the time, transportation or cash up front to pay for acupuncture treatments. (Plus I no longer have access to my old, trusted acupuncturist.) I’m not comfortable with light therapy because there are questions about light therapy and eye problems for certain people (I’m at elevated risk of being one such person.) Vitamin D & multivitamin supplements don’t do anything on me as far as depression goes. And finally, the last time I joined a gym to work up a sweat regularly, I developed a series of months-long vaginal infections.
So the non-invasive, natural, etc. stuff maybe isn’t in my best interests after all.
Certainly the pressure to conform & minimize what I was feeling – or not feeling, more accurately, since I was shuffling around feeling completely Dead on the Inside – was making things worse. I felt so much pressure…
…Pressure to please some, vague ~idea~ of an expert.
…Pressure to behave, to “Get over it,” to continue to haul around the responsibility for other people’s actions. “Honey that was a long time ago, let it go.”
…Pressure to please all those people, journalists, and Ph.D.’s who claim to be ~just looking out for us after all,~ in steering me away from medical treatments…
…And unfortunately, that pressure to please others played right into the depression to prolong it and make it worse. When I went on the antidepressants, one of the first things I did when I got home with the medication was break down and cry about what a huge failure of a person I am, for actually needing medication. For “Giving up.” For “Taking the first easy way out.” For taking the path of least resistance, instead of confronting my fears head-on. Etc. Etc. Internalized bullshit.
And of course, I wasn’t a failure for needing medication or any other reason really – I’m coming to terms with the fact that I am in fact, not a failure at all. (We’re not quite there yet due to residual depression.) I wasn’t giving up, taking the easy way out, or running from the past.
I was just a person who needed more help.
Not that I should have felt forced to try the other holistic ways in the first place at all. It’s easier to find pressure from Big Pharma to attract customers and try new (or re-patented) old medication in the form of Big Marketing. But the pendulum can swing the other way too, and in my vulnerable state, I got pushed off of the other edge.
I asked my primary care physician to put me on Bupropion, better known as “Wellbutrin” or sometimes “Zyban.” I got a prescription generic for a half-dose (150mg) of extended release bupropion, for $10/month with insurance. I had the option to bump it up to a full (300mg) dose after 4-6 weeks of being on it, if I wasn’t satisfied with the results at half-strength.
It was not a decision I made lightly. In addition to the stigma of depression & using medical treatment for it, I had to anticipate the medication’s potential side effects. I selected bupropion because SSRI antidepressants have the potential to cause sexual dysfunction. SSRIs may cause some patients to experience things like, lower libido or difficulty orgasming, or more rarely, post-SSRI sexual dysfunction. I don’t have those problems; I have a history of pain. But I figure, I’m already stacked behind the 8-ball as far as sex problems go, so I should probably avoid medication that could throw something new into the mix.
One other factor to consider: I am aware that low-dose tricyclic antidepressants can be a treatment for vulvodynia. Part of the reason I stayed off of the tricyclics and opted for surgery all those years ago is that, at that time, I wanted to leave the option for using antidepressants for depression open in the future. I still don’t know if you can a tricyclic with another type of antidepressant, or if you can bump the tricyclic pain-treatment dose up for mental health, and still keep the pain effect in place.
After crying for awhile, I took my first pill. Then another the next day, and so on.
The antidepressant worked.
The bupropion kicked in surprisingly fast – I felt changes within like the first 2 weeks. The incessant, nagging, self-deprecating voice in my head quieted down. I was able to concentrate on my continuing education studies. The knowledge was sticking. I was doing better at work. I was starting to take interest in old activities again. I started to make more progress in therapy. I was remembering stuff I hadn’t thought about in a long time & making connections from prior events to my current beliefs & behaviors. I could actually feel feelings again, including anger! and sadness! and hope, oh god, the hope! The iceberg of depression started to melt & develop cracks… And it was still inherently me underneath the layers of Ice.
It wasn’t perfect. There were some side effects. I lost some weight. The tinnitus I’ve had since I was a kid sounded louder in my head. I had to take the medication in the evening before bed since it made me sleepy. My libido stayed at the same level, and I actually had an easier time orgasming on the medication than I did off it – Not that orgasm was ever a problem for me to begin with; I just felt more physically sensitive to touch on meds. The mental health improvement was noticeable and positive, but not complete. I felt about a 50% improvement in the depression on the 150mg dose. I was getting ready to bump up the dose to the full 300mg.
Then I started losing my hair.
Or more accurately, my hair stopped growing back in. One day I was getting ready to go out, I tied my hair up and saw a bald spot on the back of my head. That’s never been there before and it’s a problem.
It’s not like the hair fell out in big patches or clumps, or like I was shedding any more than normal. The hair was still falling out at the normal rate, there just wasn’t anything new coming in replace the old stuff. The effect was subtle, but over the next few days – and after comparing my current hair to old photos – I confirmed the hair was definitely thinning overall compared to before I went on medication. It’s subtle – probably something only I would ever notice.
Unfortunately that was the deal-breaker for me and bupropion. Please understand that me and my hair are very attached to each other. We’re planning on traveling to Paris together one day, you see. After a few days of deliberation (and feeling self-conscious,) I decided I wasn’t yet ready to change my hairstyle to something better for thinning hair. I talked to my doctor, and I went off the bupropion.
I had one withdrawal effect from going off the bupropion, a headache that varied in intensity from low to high for about a month. It responded to OTC painkillers and eventually went away. I’m still waiting for the hair to grow back though.
This is the point at which I could get angry and shake my first at Big Pharma for causing my hair loss. But actually, when I did the homework to figure out which antidepressants might work for me, I found out ahead of time that hair loss can be a very rare side effect. I was optimistic that I would be in the majority and not experience this side effect. It only happens to something like less than 1% of bupropion users, and usually kicks in after a few months. It’s weird because it kicked in fast on me – I noticed the hair loss about 6 weeks in. (Just to be on the safe side, my doctor ordered some blood screens to make sure the hair loss wasn’t related to some other medical problem. Apparently not.) It’s possible for depression to cause hair loss in and of itself, if it gets bad enough too. So although I’ll never know 100% for sure that it was the bupropion all along, it seems to be the most probable conclusion.
For me, the mental health effects of the medication were overall good enough so that I’ve decided, if I get depression again later… I’m just going to order a hairpiece, go to a nice salon and change my hairstyle… and then go back on meds. I’m annoyed about the hair loss but not angry… because the medication did something nothing else could do. It actually broke through the depression and gave me a rest from the self-loathing. It was worth it.
Unfortunately, I’m now back to relying on talk therapy for further mental health improvements. The medication did what it was supposed to do, but I couldn’t stay on it. It is a conundrum.
I’m not back to square one with the depression, but I’m not “All better” either! I switched therapists and I’m doing better with the current one than my old one. But it’s been rough. There’s a lot of bullshit in my past that I have to address now, and it still derails me.
What, exactly, in my past is so hard to recover from? What got triggered in the first place by recent events? This isn’t exactly a depression blog, and I’m still not 100% comfortable talking about the depression. It figures; I can go on for hours and hours about vaginas and feminisms and sex, but ask me to open up about what’s inside my head and I slam shut.
So let me put it to you this way:
It is simultaneously deeply liberating
and completely devastating
that all those times, when I was a little kid,
saying to myself, “No one loves me,”
Actually, I was right.
Ouch. Ow. Owwww. Oh come on, that’s the revelation?! So that’s what I have going on now. Emotional and verbal abuse?! Generation upon generation of fucked up parenting?! An actual paper trail of documented abuse and bullying?! All culminating in this one moment?! Mainfesting their legacies now?! Of all times?! And now I have to address the current thought patterns and the past stuff?!
What kind of revelation is that?! Why couldn’t have been something like a surplus of excess puppies, or something good. Brain, you’re really going to make me go through this now? Really? If I go through this now, will I feel better about it later?
I feel like Sgt. Hiller (played by Will Smith) when he’s dragging the unconscious outer space alien across the desert in Independence Day.
[Right about at this part of the movie. Remember this? Party like it’s 1996. Description: Actor Will Smith in military clothes, bare arms, sunglasses, mouth agape. Leaning/walking forward. Part of a parachute is draped over his right shoulder; you cant’t see it in this picture but he is dragging an unconscious space alien behind him, along the ground, wrapped inside of the parachute. Erin screengrabbed it @ Hellogiggles.]
Cuz I’m all like, “But no, now I gotta integrate this depression and family history of mental illnesses and develop into a something that I’m not, to get to where I want to be now, except you can’t do that right now, because one day at a time. Especially when you are minus the support that you’re supposed to be able to draw upon internally. Dragging your sorry ass across the desert… And what the hell is that smell!? I could have been at a barbeque!”
The antidepressants helped me crash & then punch out the alien thoughts inside of me – “Welcome to EARTH!” And the thoughts really are alien! But now that they’re quieter, I have to still have to deal with them, take them somewhere safe and figure them out.
Tags: blogging, cyst, depression, health, sexual health, TMI
Hello readers, blog mistress K here again, some ~4 months after the last entry. It’s a new year and I’ve been wanting to write something for awhile… something about going through depression yet again for what I initially thought was the 3rd time… but actually turned out to be more like the 4th or 5th time in my life. (But hey, who’s counting?) Of course, it wouldn’t be much of a party – or a blog post – if my vagina didn’t somehow get involved. Don’t worry – it did.
Feminists with FSD, now featuring soul-crushing depression!
My life has been kind of like this for awhile:
I can still do work, do stuff, and do a decent job at it, but I haven’t really been living, you know? Not really feeling it. It, referring to, everything.
It’s been a long 8 months. I’ve been struggling with depression since early 2012. I’m only just now starting to come out from underneath the worst of the most recent depression, after trying a couple of different treatments. I’m going to break it down for you over a blog post or two to catch up.
The trigger for this round of depression is most likely tied up with work-related stress. I’ve been (and continue to be, for now…) stuck at a dead-end job. The job is related to the skills and education I gained during college, so I am able to do what I trained to do. But I do so at a company where we’re understaffed, overworked, and where stratified office politics rule. (In other words, ~a typical office environment!) It’s not the best or the worst job I’ve ever had, but the most important thing is that I’m dissatisfied there. Since it’s clear to me now that there’s no room for growth with the company, I’ve been working on improving my career path by pursuing continuing education outside of work. Continuing education is not easy – it’s time consuming, it’s challenging, and even the continuing education itself is related to the depression – it’s forcing me to re-evaluate my old survival techniques and hang-ups about grades & perfectionism. Plus, my concentration is pretty poor – I can only go for short periods before I get interrupting thoughts and need to take a break. The worst interrupting thoughts are related to depression.
But after awhile – and before I committed to working towards the continuing education – the job wore down on me. Being stuck at work reminded me of being stuck at home in a toxic environment. Feeling like this went on for weeks that turned into months, and eventually, with no hope of escape, I developed depression again. It was bad. I couldn’t make the invasive self-deprecating thoughts Shut Up. I internalized every little mistake as reflecting poorly on myself as a person. I felt like everyone could see right through me. I was emotionally and occasionally physically numb, unable to express or recognize my own emotions – my emotions were absent, I felt only Static. During the worst of the anxiety, I was spacing out, unable to feel physical stimulation (hot, cold, textures, etc.) And I was having nightmares a lot more frequently than I do when I’m not-depressed.
This isn’t normal sadness. The easiest way to describe it is to say it’s more like the stuff featured in some webcomics I relate to:
This has happened to me before. I don’t know how I came out of previous depression episodes – my memory is that I just muddled through it until it resolved on its own. So I don’t know how to be more active about recovery currently without getting help & instructions. Due to Stigma, I wasn’t permitted by my (Insecure, problem-filled/causing) family to seek aggressive treatments (medication) when I was younger, and I never had a chance to confront & work out my issues in a supportive, therapeutic setting.
But I got Shit To Do now, and I’m physically far away from my counter-productive family members. It’s also worth noting here that I Have Insurance – which means I have the means to seek treatment. Not everyone has that option.
But what to do, where to start? I looked for advice on what to do, got advice and I took it. I called for a referral to a therapist and started going in for weekly talk therapy without medication. I read self-help books, some of which were more helpful than others. (I won’t be doing a book review of these, but I do want to point out some of the titles I personally found more useful than others: The Gift of Fear, Outliers, Trauma & Recovery, Will I Ever Be Good Enough, My Mother Myself, Toxic Parents – Based on the last few titles, you may be able to guess where this is going in the end…)
But talk therapy was slow and the results were almost imperceptible… Lots of two steps forward, 1 step back… 2 steps forward, 2 steps back… 1 step forward, 2 steps back… two steps forward, 1 step back for a net increase equal to or less than 1 [Unit of Improvement.] Sometimes I left therapy feeling worse than when I went in. So for months, I persisted, but felt stagnant. I tried to work through my issues – but I kept bumping up against walls, ruminating and getting frustrated. I tried the self-help exercises recommended in the books – and felt more embarrassed about having to confront so many of my own issues when I wrote them down. I tried being nice to myself – and kept defaulting back to self-deprecation. My inner monologue remained turned against myself.
Yet in spite of the mental hardship, my pelvic pain issues, for the most part, behaved. (Isn’t that incredible?!)
Sure, I could feel the pelvic muscles tensing up and getting uncomfortable when I was under stress – but I didn’t go through any acute pain. Even with the depression, I was able to have sexual activity solo & with my partner, and I enjoyed orgasms on a regular basis. My libido was the same as its ever been, so I still had sexual desire. In fact, sexual interest & pleasure were one of the main things keeping me going! I even started to be able to have all-out penetrative PIV sex, with little to no pain. (It’s still not perfect and will never be perfect – but that’s a big improvement compared to a few years ago!)
But then, that all went to Hell because I developed a Cyst.
And that pushed me over the edge till I hit Rock Bottom.
This cyst. This fucking cyst. Let me tell you about my cyst, because that’s how the depression ties into this being a “Vagina blog.”
This all went down over the course of about 48 hours…
Sometime around a weekend in October, I noticed an acutely painful vulvar bump, in between the labia minora and clitoris. It’s a bad, scary place to feel a painful lump. (I suppose all places are bad and scary to find cysts.) You’d think I’d have noticed something starting to go amiss sooner, but no: It hadn’t even been there a day or two earlier! By the time I found it, it felt huge…
…But the truth is, the cyst never got any bigger than pea-sized.
After I noticed the pain and found the source, the cyst grew more defined. Over the next ~2 days, swelling from a sore, vaguely internal lump to a visible, discolored, painful bump.
From experience and from having already read up on vulvar bumps & lumps, I knew it was a cyst. I’ve had one before, related to the vulvar vestibulectomy surgery. I knew going into surgery in the first place, cysts are a potential side effect, and I accepted that risk. So I wasn’t surprised when the old one showed up near the surgical site. That old one formed nearby one of my Bartholin’s glands, and at one point was big enough for my physical therapist to notice. But the old one just kind of resolved on its own and hasn’t come back in years.
The weird thing is, this new, recent cyst was nowhere near the surgery site! In between the labia and clitoris — WTF, what are you even doing there?! Nothing happened there! I was like, “CYST. CYST. WAT R U DOIN. STAHP!”
Since I knew what it was, I also knew what to do as treatment at-home. I called a nurse hotline to see if I should go to urgent care early, but was given the same information I already knew – take it easy, use warm compresses, sitz baths, hope for the best; maybe it will resolve on its own.
I followed the cyst care instructions. I kept warm compresses on it and didn’t mess around (squeeze) with it. Spent some time in the sitz bath. Walked funny. Complained a lot about being in pain, took some OTC painkillers. No sexual activity. Continued doing my continuing education study stuff in spite of it all.
And then of course, it broke.
By itself. And that made a mess. And it scared me. And luckily it broke while I was at home, so I ran into the shower and at this point I’m like, “Okay it broke on its own, whatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdoooo!”
(It may be worth noting here that, anecdotally I’ve heard that broken cysts can smell bad… this one had no odor whatsoever.)
After cleaning up the wound and washing my hands, what I did was call the nurse hotline again and got told basically, “Yeah you can probably go in for urgent care now…”
So I hauled ass to urgent care.
And of course by the time I got to urgent care, I already knew what the treatment for draining a cyst is: You can get an incision, marsupialization or a word cathether installation.
None of these really appeal to me since I don’t want to risk any more scar tissue in and around my vulva, especially not so close to the side of my clitoris. In the end, I was too chickenshit to get the usual treatment! I said to the attending doctor, “Just give me the antibiotics to kill off whatever infection caused this and make a follow up appointment for a few days from now in case I get a complication! I’ll take my chances!” The attending doctor agreed, took some swabs to check for germs and complied – for better or worse, I decided my best course of action was the least invasive one.
Cysts and depression don’t really have anything to do with one another. They should develop independently of each other. However, in my case, the wires got crossed and became interconnected: The cyst forming and breaking was enough to finally break me.
Depression alone is one thing… throw a vaginal problem into the mix and that’s where I draw the line. Developing a vulvar problem while depressed triggered all the other old memories and anxieties from when I was stuck in the worst of the vulvar pain. I felt like I was right back to square one with the Vaginismus and the Vulvodynia/Vulvar Vestibulitis. So not only was I dealing with “Regular” depression and anxiety, I was also dealing with old sexual problem shit and invasive thoughts!
I crossed the minimum thresh hold required to make going on antidepressants worth the risks of sexual side effects. By now I was a shivering ball of anxiety, anger, fear and sadness. I refused food; called in sick from work and spent some time in bed, hiding. None of the self-help techniques in my books or suggested by the therapist could reach me. No one could console me.
By now my thought process when I was hiding in bed was something like, “What is the point of staying off of antidepressants due to a fear of sexual side effects, if I’m just going to go around developing sexual side effects anyway?! Fuck this shit. I’m not doing this anymore. Oh but then people are going to say shit like, ‘Americans are all over-medicated and ~*~Big Pharma~*~ and blah, blah, blah, overdiagnosis, blah blah blah STIGMA.’ Well FUCK THAT TOO!”
At the follow up appointment a few days after visiting urgent care, the doctor confirmed that the wound was still draining on its own. All the swabs came back negative for the strains of bacteria tested for. There wasn’t much else to do or that needed to be done. No need for surgery or a word catheter at that point. Whatever caused the cyst to form in the first place, I still don’t know. The doctor okay’ed going off antibiotics early (I am fully aware that you’re supposed to finish the entire course. I was instructed by a medical professional to not do that in this case. Kids, don’t try this at home.)
And while I was still in the examination room, I asked the doctor to give me the prescription for Bupropion. Because seriously, fuck this shit, at that point I was like, I’m not doing this depression the hard way anymore. I went on medication for it…
…And for awhile, that worked out pretty well. The medication was doing its job. I started making more progress in therapy. I started to feel better…
…Then I developed a side effect: I started losing my hair.
To be continued…
Tags: books, communication, disability, media, sex education, TMI
I recently picked up and finished reading the sexual guidebook, The Adventurous Couple’s Guide to Strap-On Sex, by author & blogger Violet Blue. It’s exactly what it sounds like – an in-depth guide to integrating strap-on sex toys and techniques into partnered sex.
Why are we reviewing a book about pegging on a blog about sexual dysfunction? For much the same reason cited last time we read a book by Violet Blue: Personal reasons + it was in the book queue. Besides, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Sometimes when you have sexual dysfunction, you gotta get real creative, real quick.
The short version of the review is…
Well… I liked the Ultimate Guide to Fellatio better…
The Adventurous Couple’s Guide to Strap-On Sex – let’s call it TACG from here on out – the book is short. I was able to burn through the book start to finish within just a few hours. The Kindle edition I read has 1568 locations (sentences, I think,) which translates to about 160 pages in paperback format. There aren’t any pictures in the Kindle version – there’s not even one of those cut-away academic diagrams of male pelvic anatomy. All of the descriptions of anatomy and how-to are written out in paragraph form.
TACG‘s target audience is cis, heterosexual couples interested in pegging – and pegging, by definition, takes place between cis, het partners. But strap-ons are used in LGBTIQA communities too – so to me, it was weird to see so little coverage of strap-on use outside of straight sex. There was a lot of reassuring the reader that an interest in pegging does not necessarily mean you or your partner is gay. Definitely a book aimed at cis, het couples primarily.
The book includes just about everything you will need to know about strap-on sex and maybe some stuff you hadn’t thought about – anatomy, history, myth debunking, what gear to look for, how to go warm your partner up and then go through with pegging, and safe sex. Actually, I would have preferred to see the section on making strap-on sex safer close to the beginning of the book, instead of at the very end, but there is precedent for saving the best for last – Sex Toys 101 did it that way too. Remember that anal penetration is a risky sex act in terms of passing along infectious agents between partners, because the tissue is delicate, and there’s a lot of bacteria behind the anus. Blue includes a table detailing your risk of infection from anal sex, pegging and related activities and describes tools like condoms & dental dams you can use to reduce the risks.
Remember also that if you’re inserting objects anally, they really need to be designed specifically for that. If you just grab whatever’s handy, you or your partner could wind up with a toy lost inside the body and/or a serious injury – either scenario requires a trip to the emergency room. Blue addresses what kind of butt-friendly toys to look for. Shape, size, and materials all matter, so shop smart. Don’t forget the lubricant, since the anus can’t produce its own secretions the way a vagina can.
Where TACG really shines is when Blue talks about the importance of communication. Pegging isn’t something you can just spring on your partner, and a desire to engage in it isn’t something you can just pantomime out using secret code gestures (no matter what Cosmopolitan tells you.) If you’ve been slacking off in the sexual communication department, Blue lists a few suggestions for how to bring strap-on sex up in conversation – most of these suggestions can easily be applied to other various sex acts as well. Blue also reminds the reader to think about their partner’s perspective, since talking about sex can be (but doesn’t have to be) nerve-wracking. Blue suggets a few areas for exploration if one partner or another is reluctant – what are you the most uncomfortable with, the potential for pain? Insecurity with flipping around gender norms? Cleanliness/messiness/poop? You don’t even know where to start or what else there is to do during? There’s ways to address these concerns.
I liked the section about the history of the terminology of strap-on sex and why you may have noticed a glimpse of pegging here and there in mainstream sex shops, films and discussions. I was also pleasantly surprised by the inclusion of a chapter on how to have strap-on sex with a third party. Opening up a relationship is a little too advanced for me but the book is clearly polyamory friendly. There’s a lot of coverage about various reasons couples might want to try strap-ons during sex in the first place – some reasons include (but are not limited to) the potential for prostate stimulation, aesthetics, and/or fantasy fulfillment.
TACG contains a little information about strap-on sex and disability. Author Blue suggests using a double-ended dildo if you have a wrist injury or mobility problems (location 1188,) and she suggests a vendor from which to procure a harness designed for cis men. (Specific item is here; NSFW; similar products may be available elsewhere.) Why would someone who already has a penis want a harness for a dildo when their equipment is already present? The idea is double penetration of a cis female partner, but in my mind I’m imagining something like it might actually come in handy for couples dealing with erectile dysfunction – especially since Blue states that an erection is not required to use a double harness. TACG describes other harnesses as well; there’s one kind that the wearer can strap onto their thigh or even their head.
A couple of considerations for folks with pelvic pain issues who might be interested in harnesses:
Blue writes that “If you worry about [your pubic bone] getting sore from thrusting, you can buy a specially made pad of thin foam to cushion your pubic bone” (location 1159,) though where exactly one might buy such a pad is not explicitly stated. If this type of pad has a specific name, I don’t know it.
One of the double-ended dildos described in TACG is the Feeldoe, a double-dildo with one bulbous end. It’s designed to have the bulbous end inserted vaginally, leaving the phallic part exposed, for your partner’s enjoyment. However I don’t know how accessible this toy is to folks with pelvic floor dysfunction and/or pain – It looks like something I would find uncomfortable, if not outright painful, to the point of impossible to use as intended. Supposedly it can be used with certain harnesses with some adjustments, but it’s designed to be inserted in the wearer’s vagina.
In general, I would recommend some of the other dildos from Tantus, because I own one I’ll vouch for, they’re silicone & many have a flared base suitable for a harness and anal stimulation – including a few smaller models and plugs.
If you’re a pelvic pain patient interested in a harness, I strongly recommend sticking to two-strap harnesses only. Or harnesses that are worn over some other body part, like the thigh. The problem is that single-strap pelvic harnesses have to be worn between your legs like a thong and thus cover up more of the vulvar area. Two-strap harnesses go around your thighs and butt instead, leaving more area exposed. The distinction between single and two-strap harnesses is described in further detail in TCAG.
Also, Blue doesn’t mention this part, but beware of harnesses with a pouch for a vibrator… Harnesses with a bullet vibrator are supposed to make the experience more pleasurable for the wearer, but depending on how the vibe rests against you, it might just feel like a foreign, hard something digging uncomfortably into your pelvis. It’s like something out of the Princess and the Pea. I personally find it more comfortable to use a vibrator separately either before or after wearing the harness.
If you’re worried about causing your partner pain, then remember that anal stimulation doesn’t have to – and if you’re doing it carefully, shouldn’t – hurt. You might be tempted to share your prescription lidocaine or OTC novelty numbing gel with your receptive partner but that’s actually a bad idea: numbing gels dull everything, which makes deriving pleasure more difficult… and if you can’t feel what’s going on, then you won’t know if you’re getting injured. The book will tell you how to adjust your techniques to minimize discomfort & maximize pleasure.
Remember also that you are by no means obligated to peg if you’re thinking about getting a harness. After talking with your partner, you may decide instead to just wear it around for awhile or to engage in some other non-penetrative activities with a dildo equipped, just for show.
Overall, The Adventurous Couple’s Guide to Strap-On Sex is an okay book. It will be most useful for straight folks – especially cis women – just starting to consider strap-on sex, who don’t know what’s involved. Likewise, it will be useful for straight men who want to be on the receiving end, but never tried it before.
TACG becomes less useful if you’ve already had exposure to strap-on sex, either through experience or though some of the free how-to guides available on sexuality websites. The trick is, if you’re thinking about trying strap-on sex, then chances are you’ve already looked at those free how-to guides before picking up the book.
I wouldn’t recommend TACG be your first book purchase by Violet Blue. My overall impression is that IMHO I think she put more effort into some of her other stuff. There’s nothing wrong with the book; It contains good factual information & encouragement! I just liked some of her other sex guides more. Franky I thought that some parts of the book were drawn out longer than necessary – I basically skimmed through the chapter about male anatomy because I’ve seen it all before… And I skimmed over the erotic vignettes. The short stories are fine; I have no problems with the writing, though they are several pages too long. They’re just not my taste. Obviously, YMMV!
In summation: the $10-$15 retail price investment will be best for newcomers, with less bang for buck the more experience & knowledge you already have about strap-on harnesses & how to use them. More experienced readers may find it useful as a reference from time to time.
Disclaimer: As with all products reviewed on Feminists with Female Sexual Dysfunction to date, I had to pay for this book out of pocket with my own money, and I don’t get any compensation for writing this review.
Tags: pain, reviews, sex education, Sexuality, TMI
(Not into product reviews? Consider this a warm-up before we get to the juicy stuff, as I’ve been out of practice with writing for awhile.)
My partner and I have a love/hate relationship with the Pinwheel, a medical-device-turned-sex-toy.
That is to say, I love it and my partner hates it.
[Description: A silver device with a long, thin handle resting on white cloth. A circle is attached to one end. There are something like 20+ thin, sharp points, each equal length, sticking out from the circle.]
What we’re looking at today is the Pinwheel, which some of you may recognize for what it really is: A Wartenberg wheel. The Wartenberg wheel is a medical device originally designed to test nerve response. It was developed by Robert Wartenberg, a doctor specializing in neurology, who practiced in Germany until he fled to the US in response to persecution by the Nazis. Wartenberg syndrome, a pain condition, is named after his work.
I don’t know if the Wartenberg wheel is still used in clinical practice, as most of the google results for a it point to the device’s use in kink and BDSM activities instead. Somewhere along the line, someone figured out that using the spiky wheel on yourself or on a partner could feel good in and of itself – at least outside of a clinical setting. Nonetheless, because of its original intended use, some readers here may not want to incorporate this into their sex lives – it may have too clinical of a feel, and it has the potential to be genuinely painful.
How and why would one go about incorporating something so sinister looking into their sex life? According to Babeland, it’s a sensation toy. I don’t 100% know what that means, but a label like sensation toy seems to indicate that, what you’re using is supposed to introduce new physical feelings – touch that you or your partner don’t usually feel, like sharpness instead of softness, metal instead of flesh, cold instead of warmth, and so on. It’s to add variety rather than to speed up orgasm. For example, I like to incorporate it into massage with my partner, though this can break a deep state of relaxation.
Now there is one problem with my Pinwheel:
[Description: A close up of the wheeled spike circle on the end of the pinwheel’s handle. There are clearly some prongs all bent out of shape at the very tips.]
I think mine’s broken, and I’m not sure if it got messed up during shipping or if it got all bent out of shape the first time I was taking it out of the packaging. Either way it was like that when it got here.
In practice, the 3 bent prongs don’t seem to make much of a difference. The points are small enough so that I can’t tell the difference when my partner rolls the bent part over me. But the bent parts have gotten stuck on my hair, so it could be a problem. And the bent parts take away from the device’s aesthetic – it doesn’t look pretty and I find the bent parts distracting. So sooner or later, I’m going to need to replace it.
In other words, if you decide you’re interested in such a wheel, don’t pick one out if you notice any problems with it. Hold out for a nice new one. Once you have one, handle with care – the Pinwheel is more fragile than it looks.
It makes some noise. Because it is made of metal, and the wheel has to be free to move, the device jangles around when you pick it up. Once I recognized the sound it made, my partner was no longer able to sneak up on me with it – I could hear the metallic parts clinking together.
It’s lightweight, especially if you can hold the entire handle in your hand. It could become tiring to hold if you can’t get a good grip on it, or if you have to hold it from only the very bottom of the handle.
When rolled over skin, the metal points will leave little red dots behind in a long unbroken trail; how long it takes for these marks to fade will depend on your own biology. The sensation is difficult to describe – have you ever just barely noticed the feeling of an insect crawling on your skin? If you look down at your arm or hand, yep, there’s a critter on there alright – and at this point you (I) usually kick or flick it off. To me, a light touch with the Pinwheel feels like that, minus the gross-out realization of “Ew there’s a bug on me!” Medium and heavier touches feel much more intense and surprisingly widespread. The wheel may be rolling over only a small part of one of my limbs, but the feeling and muscle tension reaction will spread all the way down the limb.
When my partner uses it on me it makes my muscles tense up involuntarily until the stimulation stops. I’m not sure if this is good or bad for me, since those muscle contractions include my pelvic floor, and my pelvic floor is already messed up as it is – what that means is I can’t decide whether or not it would interfere with Kegels. Heavier touches on healthy skin border on pain but so far do not cross the threshold into actual pain.
So although I enjoy it, in contrast, when I tried it out on my partner, it didn’t go over so well. The spikes produced a lot of skin welts, a little red pinprick of blood, his wriggling away and finally, after a few generous attempts and “I don’t know if I like it yet,” a final “No more I’m done I hate it.” He is still willing to use it on me at my request, but he does not understand why I like it. I don’t have an answer. But clearly this is not the right toy for him.
It’s relatively inexpensive, though the price can vary widely – between $4 – $20, depending on where you buy it from. A Pinwheel from Babeland (which is where I got mine from) will set you back $20, but you can get the same thing for less through Amazon (this might be a more innocuous option if you share your computer with someone who would not appreciate navigating it towards adult-themed sites.) Supposedly there are expensive versions which are more geared towards medical use in a professional setting, though I did not find them during a cursory search.
I do have some caveats before you rush out and pick one up. It broke my partner’s skin, so there’s a risk it could break yours, too – watch out for bodily fluids. It’s stainless steel and it can be cleaned, but most of us probably don’t have the means at home to truly sterilize a medical instrument to medical standards. My partner doesn’t like the ticklish sensation it produces, so if you dislike light touches it may be too uncomfortable. It has the potential to be painful as well, and so if you are sensitive to touch it might not be the right toy for you.
As with all reviews posted on Feminists with FSD so far, I had to pay for this out of pocket with my own money, and I don’t get any compensation out of posting this.
Tags: blogging, experts, female sexual dysfunction, Feminism, FSD, introspective, sex education, sexual dysfunction, TMI
It has been far too long since the last post here.
So it seems that the blog took a bit of an unexpected hiatus. Being a feminist/social justice type of blog, I chalk it up to the inevitable, and figure it was bound to happen eventually. Lots of feminist blogs go on breaks for awhile, or disappear entirely, for various reasons. Only a fortunate few can afford to write full time, and even those who can must still attend to the non-financial matters.
I finally got a little burned out, frustrated with speaking out but seemingly never being listened to. In looking over materials for a few recent conferences on sexual dysfunction, and noting who was selected to speak about what topics, I cannot help but feel a bit hopeless.
Yet another variation on a theme, yet another news article with a title like, “Is female sexual dysfunction real? You vote and decide!” “Is sexual dysfunction a made up hoax? News at 11.”
Why is my life up for debate?
More then that though, as I’ve been saying for awhile now, a lot of shit went down in my offline life within the last six months or so. Lots of changes, and the last two or three months were particularly intense, requiring more energy than I originally anticipated. There isn’t always much left of me by the end of a work day.
But some of what I’ve been up to has been worthwhile. Here’s some of the more interesting and relevant activities I’ve been up to while hiding from the internets:
– Got a new computer to work on. There was an adjustment period with the new system.
– Went to a sex education workshop.
– Participated in one of the US Slutwalks.
I’d love to talk about what I saw at both events and my opinions on the execution, however I fear that doing so will give enough details away to narrow down my geographic location(s). Suffice it to say that with Slutwalk in particular, there was some good stuff and some areas that sorely needed improvement; nonetheless I am glad to have participated in such a Walk – if only for the social aspects of it, because I need to get out more.
– I have attempted multiple times to have PIV intercourse with my partner…
…However, in spite of this hands-on experience with sexuality and attending a workshop, and in spite of exposure to sexually educational materials, I still somehow have sexual dysfunction. The additional education did not cure me. I still haven’t been able to have pain-free intercourse in about two and a half years.
Yeah it’s still not happening, the vaginismus is acting up. At least, I *think* it’s mostly vaginismus right now. I’ve been learning how to enjoy digital insertion of small-to-medium objects & fingers into my vagina, but I’m struggling again with anything I consider “Large” – it gets stuck and can feel painful. I can’t quite tell if the pain is muscular or if it’s closer to the surface.
– I am still having bladder problems to the point where I’m starting to worry about repercussions at work. One of my co-workers already asked me, when I got up to use the restroom for the nth time, “Are you okay?” Frankly the answer is “No, not exactly; it’s a long story.” Sooner or later someone is going to pin me down about my bathroom habits and it’s going to be really awkward.
So since I’ve been out of commission for awhile, I missed a lot of stuff in the news and blogosphere, and I cannot hope to ever catch up. We missed out on our chance to make timely commentary on stuff including but not limited to:
Blogging against disablism day!
All of Masturbation month! (May)
Most of Pride month! (June)
Gay marriage in New York state!
US and global politics and media scandals, including but not limited to Anthony Weiner’s weiner! (For better or worse, there’ll be no shortage of political news all the way through 2012.)
On a more serious note, multiple attacks on reproductive rights in the US!
Hearings in California over whether or not pornographic film actors & actresses should have to use barrier protection!
Multiple well-covered internet security breaches!
A slime The DSM-V’s revision draws near!
The Orgasm, Inc. DVD should be available on Netflix now!
But before we get into any of that, my intention remains to write one or two sex product reviews first before getting into much detail with politics & sexual dysfunction related news – if only because after such a long break, I need to flex my writing muscles. And I should try to get a review of Orgasm, Inc. up before September, because you know that it’s going to become a staple of all sexuality and gender study courses.
Unfortunately I need to stretch and flex my writing muscles, because clearly there is still a need for a hands-on perspective of sexual dysfunction.
That there is still a need for such self-advocacy is a disappointment to me.
For you see, there are still some credible professionals, academics and feminist advocates who do not themselves have sexual dysfunction, yet who continue to participate in programs which declare that female sexual dysfunction is an utter fabrication and any efforts to legitimize it as a diagnosis meriting medical intervention (and social acceptance) must be stopped at all costs. Which I interpret as a direct threat, because if sexual dysfunction does not exist, then people with sexual dysfunction – female sexual dysfunction in particular – must not exist.
I am a woman with sexual dysfunction.
The goal is usually something along the lines of stopping the long arm of Big Pharma from tapping into people’s sexual insecurity in order to capitalize on sexual insecurity. Sexual insecurity being a pretty common thing that a lot of people have, short of dysfunction.
The unfortunate consequence, deliberate or not, is that to hear for the millionth time that sexual dysfunction is not real is the millionth erasure of my existence and the validity of my experiences. And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.
When I read such impassioned speeches rallying against recognition of sexual dysfunction as a health problem, a disorder, a label, it’s like hearing, “Everything you went through and continue to go through is invalid. She doesn’t really have sexual dysfunction, because sexual dysfunction isn’t real. What an utterly useless description for an experience.” Hence me writing a snarky April Fool’s Day post about mythical Unicorns – because apparently I am a mythical beast as well. I don’t exist, and as such clearly I can not speak for myself, because there is no one to speak for.
Do I really have to sit back quietly and let people talk “For” me, even when what they say causes me to feel endless anguish? Do I really have to sit back and not say something back?
So some things changed in the last few months, but others remain the same. The feminist perspective that female sexual dysfunction isn’t a valid thing continues to frustrate me. Remember, my problem is that I have dyspareunia, which has been described by Dr. Tiefer as “The only valid sexual dysfunction and certainly the only important one.” That article continues to disturb me because it throws my friends with non-painful sexual problems under the bus – what they have isn’t valid and therefore it certainly isn’t important. And the contradiction that sexual dysfunction simultaneously does not exist and yet selectively does exist, confounds me to no end.
Thus motivating me to write again.
Now how fast I’ll be able to crank out posts with actual content and not just this fluffy stuff remains to be seen. There’s enough distractions around me so that I’m often doing stuff offline and nowhere near a keyboard. Once again I would like to put out a reminder that I am open to Guest Posts. Check out some of these previous guest posts for examples. (You need to leave a comment with a valid e-mail address to contact me about guest posting, or with any other questions.)
Tags: academia, books, disability, experts, female sexual dysfunction, humor, news, NVA, picture post, sex, sex education, sex is not a natural act, sexual dysfunction, TMI, vulvar vestibulitis, vulvodynia, what
In the same spirit as the original Shorties, I bring you: A series of posts which were each too small to constitute blog entries on their own. Divided we are weak, but together, we are strong!
The National Vulvodynia Association’s newsletter for 2010 is posted on their website, here. It includes updates on research and funding, and profiles of researchers who have received NVA-related grants. There are also profiles of medical professionals working towards a more comprehensive understanding of vulvodynia. There’s also updates on educational materials and programs provided by the NVA.
There’s a couple of reasons I like to post book reviews on this blog. I may post product (vibrator, dilator etc.) reviews in the future; I haven’t decided yet. Again, a reminder: Any reviews I posted here so far, I had to pay for the product in question & I haven’t gotten any compensation for my services.
It’s a blog about sexual dysfunction, especially that greatest bone of consternation, female sexual dysfunction. One of the common themes I read in feminist analysis of FSD is that a lot of it is actually sexual insecurity which stems from ignorance and lack of education. The idea goes something like, men & women are socialized differently and grow up with different expectations & pressures when it comes to sexual behavior. (In other words, differences in sexual behavior between men & women aren’t necessarily inborn.) Women are discouraged from learning about sex & pleasure. Combine this with shitty sex education and you have a pretty good chance of not understanding the influence of gender roles and how your own body works. This in turn is misinterpreted by the individual as “There must be something wrong with me” when experiencing a normal, understandable reaction to sexual stimulation. And the cure for this is better sex education instead of medication. Go read a goddamn book or something!
Improved sex education is great, so that’s one reason to post reviews of sexual guides and products. So every one in awhile you’ll find such a review here – it’s my way of saying, “Hey, here’s something that’s good and worth your time,” or, “Hey, here’s an overrated product that isn’t worth the packaging it came in. Save your money.” Or I’ll post something more nuanced – “This is good, this is bad, and this part I don’t understand at all.”
However there’s another reason I post the reviews here…
Sometimes all the sex education in the world cannot fix a sexual problem.
Because it doesn’t all come from sexual ignorance.
Many of the sexual guides I’ve read, some of which come highly recommended, do not do a good job of addressing my problem in particular – pain. Maybe it’s because they’re not medical advice books so they can’t recommend treatments. Liability issues, maybe.
I’m doing what I’ve been told to do. I’m getting better sex education. I read the blogs. I buy the sex toys from the feminist sex shops. I have explored my sexual fantasies and will continue to do so. I masturbate to orgasm. I am in love with a supportive partner (the feeling, I understand, is mutual.)
The lady with sexual dysfunction is reading a goddamn book or something.
So why do I still experience dyspareunia?
Why do I still have vaginismus?
Why does my vagina still take so long to recover from vaginitis?
Why is medical intervention the treatment that best addressed the sexual and chronic pain?
Hey wait a second, this isn’t working. I still want to have some penis-in-vagina sex over here and that’s still like, really hard to do. Maybe I’m just not reading books and trying to learn hard enough.
The sex education helps – it’s definitely worth something. But it’s not comprehensive enough for me.
Now we could say here that I am the special snowflake exception to the general rule that FSD is a fake invention designed by Big Pharma and evil doctors; Dr. Leonore Tiefer, organizer of the New View Campaign, said as much when she wrote, “Dyspareunia is the only valid sexual dysfunction and certainly the only important one,” in response to the suggestion that dyspareunia might be better considered a pain condition rather than a sexual problem.
So hypothetically I suppose I could say, “Fuck you all; I got mine.”
Hypothetically. I have no desire to actually do that and in fact I feel dirty for having spelled such a phrase out in text. Excuse me while I swish some mouthwash and/or wash my hands. Is that what I’m supposed to say? Is that the way I’m supposed to feel? Is this the signal that, as someone with dyspareunia, I’m supposed to shut my pie hole when I see folks with other dysfunctions belittled for it?
I maintain that elevating one or some forms of sexual dysfunction as more real than others creates and crystalizes an artificial hierarchy. And it throws folks with sexual dysfunctions other than or in addition to pain under the bus.
And if, for me, all the sex education in the world fell short of actual medical help from professionals, then why should I believe that it would be any different for all of my friends who have sexual dysfunctions that are not painful?
Not that sex education has been completely useless; far from it. I have taken advantage of the information I found useful. (I also tripped over the parts that were counter-productive.) But to deny medical options to women with sexual dysfunction is to remove an important potential treatment, which for some folks may very well be necessary to find sexual satisfaction. And I find it highly disturbing when such options are removed through means of threats & intimidation, shaming, or ableist comments.
Speaking of dyspaerunia being “The only valid sexual dysfunction and certainly the only important one,” I made this Privelege Denying Dudette meme just for you:
[Picture: Background: 6 piece pie style color split with pink and blue alternating. Foreground: White girl wearing a green t-shirt, featuring an African-American Sesame Street muppet with nine different hairstyles, subtitled, “I Love My Hair.” Has a smug, arrogant facial expression and plays with her long, brown hair. Top text: “ [SEXUAL DYSFUNCTION ISN’T REAL, YOU DON’T NEED MEDICAL INTERVENTION IN YOUR SEX LIFE] ” Bottom text: “ [WAIT, YOU HAVE DYSPAREUNIA? YOU BETTER GO SEE A DOCTOR.] ”]
What? Wait, what’s it going to be, do I trust my doctors or not? Do they know enough about sex to help me or is it an exercise in futilty to even bring up a sex problem? Am I allowed to go to one of the heavily-marketed sexual dysfunction clinics Dr. Tiefer mentioned in Sex is Not a Natural Act when my regular gynecologist gets stumped and refers me to such a clinic? If I take a prescription for sexual pain, am I just feeding the Big Bad Phama Beast and looking for an easy, quick fix? If I get treatment for dyspareunia, does that count as medicalizing sexuality?
I recently came to a revolutinary conclusion. If your definition of sex positive does not include sexual dysfunction, then your definition isn’t positive enough.
I want to go out of my way to explicitly include sexual dysfunction in sex-positive discussions. Because ignoring it, outright denying its existence, or claiming that looking at sexual dysfunction = focusing on the negative, will not make it go away. Insisting that sexual dysfunction is a lie erases people who actually have sexual dysfunction. As a result, people with sexual dysfunction are excluded from sex-positivity – and I hate that. There is push-back against excluding people with a history of STIs from the sex-positive community by means of negative, stigmatizing language – why not push back for people with dysfunction?
You know what? I have sexual dysfunction. I exist. This is a long- term thing for me that I do not foresee changing any time soon. It will not go away just because you are uncomfortable with dysfunction (and, by extension, disability. These two phobias tend to go tovether, possibly because dysfunction may be viewed as a sub-type of disability.)
Yet even with the dysfunction, somehow, in spite of everything, I am sex-positive. I have made peace with it – or, at the very least, I have made a truce with myself until I can figure something better out.
Insisting that sexual dysfunction isn’t real or that medical options are unwarranted is just going to make it harder to get the care that I and my friends need. It’s true that most people will never experience sexual dysfunction, and so will not require medical options to address it. Nonetheless, inevitably, some people are going to develop sexual dysfunction. Isn’t there a way we can focus on getting support to such folk, instead of trying to sweep ’em under the rug?
Sexual dysfunction and sex-positivity do not need to be mutually exclusive.
Sometimes, I worry a little bit about my reliance on a vibrator for orgasm. I think that, with enough practice, I probably could masturbate to orgasm using only my (or my partner’s) hands. But until then, I orgasm easily enough with a battery-powered vibrator.
I’m not worried about spending money on vibrators and thus supporting a capitalist system. I’m not worried about using my vibrators during sexual activity with my partner. I’m not worried that he’ll feel inadequate compared to my vibrator. I’m not worried about becoming addicted to masturbation. I’m not worried that I’m supporting the tyranny of orgasm.
The real reason I sometimes worry about using my vibrator is…
…I have this paranoid fear that some day space aliens or a freak accident or a Hollywood movie-esque disaster will unleash an electromagnetic pulse over the USA (home) and all elecronics will lose functionality.
Including my vibrators.
And then I’ll have to find a techno wizard to SteamPunk some kind of hand-cranked or steam-powered vibe for me. Possbily incorporating or inspired by one of the old-time antiques like those found in the Museum of Sex. And it’s just going to be really awkward and frustrating and I’ll probably have a lot of other important things to worry about post-EMP.
Obviously I don’t really know how EMPs work and I don’t really care. Everything I learned about them, I learned from movies.
I think about this with about the same frequency that I think about the Zombie Apocalypse as a real thing. Which is to say, not very often except for maybe after watching a movie about a zombie apocalypse or a post-apocalyptic setting.
Tags: blogging, lady porn day, media, pornography, sex, sex education, Sexuality, TMI
I’ve gone from having writer’s block to not being able to stop writing. Whereas today’s earlier Lady Porn Day post presented an overview of experts in conflict over pornography’s place in sexuality, this one will be more in keeping with the theme of LPD: To talk about my own experiences with porn. While this post probably squeaks by as SFW, it’s still TMI ahead, it goes behind a WordPress cut. Everything should still appear in your RSS feeder if you’ve subscribed though.