Navigating My Sexual Identity
CW: sexual trauma
I wrote this blog because someone replied to my Instagram story with an inappropriate comment. It made me livid and sent me straight into a spiral. So, naturally, here’s an entire blog post of me trying to unpack my sexual trauma. LMFAO.
The Foundation of My Sexual Identity
From a young age, I’ve known there was something different about me. Sex jokes were my go-to humour. I’ve always loved talking openly about sex. I’ve consumed sexual content for years and created it as well.
I lost my virginity at 17 to my first boyfriend. I was in first year university at the time. I remember in the months prior talking to many of my peers who had already had sex. I was told it would happen for me, not to worry. I was told that I needed to be deflowered and ASAP. I was told that I should just hurry up and get it over with. At this point, I was eager to just check it off my list and not have people judge me for being a virgin.
Eventually, it did happen. The first time it hurt so badly I wondered why people even bothered to have sex if that’s what it felt like. It indeed got better and I continued to have a very active sex life.
Using Sex as a Tool for Validation
What I wish I had in those formative years was some sort of guide. “How to create boundaries surrounding sex in your life”, or something to that effect. After a somewhat traumatic childhood filled with bullying and emotional abuse, I wanted so badly to be loved. To have the attention that I lacked as a child. Unfortunately for me, that turned into using sex as a way to get the attention and “love” I had been missing.
My early 20’s were filled with casual sex with zero boundaries. The only communication I was capable of was “come over”. I remember one week I had sex with three different people. At the end of that week, I didn’t feel loved. I was still empty. Pair that with a traumatic sexual experience, and I was existing in turmoil. I was in the worst headspace I’d been in in my life. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I just knew that I wanted so desperately to be loved. And that just wasn’t happening for me.
Was I unlovable? A question I asked myself periodically as I continued to fill the void with more sex.
The Path to Healing (or so I thought)
Eventually, I experienced reprieve with my first serious monogamous relationship since my first boyfriend at 17/18. I was 23 and that relationship lasted 3 1/2 years. During this relationship though, I was experiencing issues with my sex drive. Reflecting back on this, I believe it was due to the years of sexual trauma I had put myself through. By the end of our relationship, we were (mutually) no longer having sex.
Once we broke up, my first instinct was to search for my next sexual partner. The breakup (& an end to stress) reignited my sex drive, and I sought out sex desperately. And what I mean by desperately is I’m pretty sure I tried 8 different times in a 2-month time span to try to have sex. Clearly, the universe was trying to protect me from myself with the constant rejection. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to the universe.
Eventually the sex happened, and I thought I was coming back to myself. Having sex meant I was still hot, right? Men were still attracted to me. They still wanted me. (Spoiler alert: I was coming further away from myself.)
I suffered a 3-month toxic relationship shortly after and vowed to stay single for a long time to try and heal from the traumas I had been enduring. Guess how we tried to heal? You guessed it. More dates and more casual sex.
The Path to Healing (Recognition)
Honestly, it wasn’t until the age of 28 that I finally realized that my relationship with sex was and is the problem. I recognized (with the help of friends) that I compulsively seek out sex for attention and validation from men. That is a pretty fucked up thing to realize my dudes. Especially as someone who publically shares her sexual persona.
In my experience, men assume that because I show up naked (and vulnerable) on the internet, that I am some sort of sex machine. That they can make sexual remarks with no repercussions. That I have nothing else going on other than my desire for sex. Not true, kings. Very much not true.
Now, I feel like I’m playing catch-up - trying to figure out how to walk the line between reclaiming my power and slipping back into the compulsive patterns I’ve grown so used to.
What I really want is to disentangle my sexual identity from the trauma that’s calcified and suffocated it for so long.
What does that mean? Shit. Your guess is as good as mine. Therapy. Setting stronger boundaries. Making art that is aligned with my sexual identity. Reading, learning, unlearning. Leaning on my support system to help me spot my patterns and stop me in my tracks when I start slipping back into what feels familiar, but isn’t safe.
It’s going to be a long, winding road. But I’m here for it. Younger me deserves this. And older me will thank me for it.
If any part of this story resonates with you - I’m sorry. Truly. I wish nothing but healing, growth, passion, and joy for all of us.
It’s the very least we deserve.