Content: Discussion of disability and kink, sex, and intimacy.
Hello, My Beauties. The current Beyond #fetchat topic is disability and kink. Disability. Whew. I have a complicated relationship with that word. And when sex, especially kink, is added to the equation, complicated turns to Byzantine.
Reducing disability to something you can clock at 50 paces is as insulting as it is wrong-headed. Sure, some folks navigate life with visible disabilities. But it’s not always obvious, and everyone is different.
Firstly, disability looks different for everyone.
I live with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE). If you were to see me out, unless I was walking with my cane, you might not know anything is wrong. But the truth is I can’t drive a car because I have tremors, brain fog, and wretched arthritis. I can’t work in a traditional setting. Who’s going to hire a person who can only work a few hours a day on good days and not at all on bad days.
For me, dealing with my disability meant learning a new normal. It was devastating at first. The path I walked to self-acceptance was pocked and pitted like the surface of the moon.
Figuring out sex and intimacy was a part of that path.
When my disease process began to worsen, there were days where I couldn’t shower without a spotter. I’m a fiercely independent person. Having to schedule bathing because I might fall in the shower was humiliating and not at all sexy.
The first three years of this new normal, my honey and I didn’t have sex at all. My body just couldn’t. And I wasn’t really into it anyway. It’s hard to get turned on enough to masturbate, let alone fuck when everything hurts (and not in a pleasurable way).
The way intimacy looked in our relationship changed.
It was hard for me at first. Sex and intimacy were intertwined. And I obsessed about the lack of sex and what that might mean for us as a couple. However, our relationship skills were strong.
We’re monogamous because that’s what works in our dynamic. So, opening up to other folks for Mr. Crispy to have his needs met was off the table for us. That meant making daily communication a priority. We talked about sex, were open about our individual needs, and checked-in regularly.
Snuggling, holding hands, kissing, and physical closeness took on new meaning. The slightest touch wasn’t taken for granted. Expressing desire verbally, even if following through wasn’t possible at the moment, became an essential facet of our intimate connection. Just because I couldn’t physically do it, doesn’t mean either of us kept quiet about our wants.
And what about kink?
My honey, Mr. Crispy (Twitter, @Vanylla_Knight) has always been as vanilla as those wafer cookies you put in banana cream pie. We played in the past, but the majority of my kink experience is solo. And finding ways to achieve the release I needed was beyond frustrating.
I like a little sting with my kink. Spankings, nipple clamps, the occasional crop. It’s all good. But for me, erotic pain amplified the chronic pain I was experiencing. That avenue of release became untenable.
Luckily, I’m resourceful.
My goal became understanding why specific experiences produced physical and emotional release for me. Before, I’d taken finding sexual and emotional for granted. No more. I experimented with edging, light and safe self-bondage, and forced orgasm. I discovered new avenues of pleasure.
It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.
Be well, be wonderful, and above all, be you.