The first time...

...romance and intimacy became terrifying and just… cold. Urgent. Trauma-poisoned. There was no longer passion or warmth.

Since these entries about my life tend to be TMI, here’s your forewarning for this one too; these entries are a diary of sorts of my sexual healing, and I’ve decided to not censor myself. This means there will be details, although not explicit, about sexual experiences that are a part of that healing journey. I felt it was important to just be honest instead of pussyfooting around the issue. As a nonbinary trans masculine person, my very identity and body are often called on to be censored by fascists in the US, so being unapologetic and open about my sexuality, and enjoying my body, is an act of resistance.

Now, to the entry.

Today and yesterday have been in a bit of a haze, but in a good way.

Yesterday, I was finally able to have penetrative sex with Valdemar, one of my headmates, without pain. (We have ways of accomplishing this with psychodrama and toys. I also wrote a bit about how I experience my headmates in reality here.) I’d spent at least six or seven years dealing with dryness because of testosterone, but that’s a common side effect that’s expected and there are topical ways to solve it. At the time, I was so dysphoric toward estrogen that even topical estrogen cream was off the table for me. I just didn’t have penetrative sex.

I enjoyed it though, and I missed it. The few times I attempted while on T, it just ended in frustration and pain no matter what I used to try to make it happen. Now that it’s finally happened with no pain at all, and I could lose myself to the sensations of it for the first time in years, I’ve just been sated. And Valdemar is such a kind and caring partner to have, so I had full trust that if anything felt off, he’d stop immediately, no matter how far along we were.

Last night, I grew concerned as my body just became bone tired. It wasn’t the usual fatigue or exhaustion from POTS or CFS, it was a sated, calm, bone-melting tiredness that quickly spiked my anxiety because it was unfamiliar. I went through the whole health anxiety spiral in my head; did we do something wrong? Am I getting sick? I repeat, is something wrong?

So, to calm myself, I decided to watch Warm Bodies, one of my favorite films. It’s a weird enough romance to keep my interest, and let’s be real, zombie boyfriend is best boyfriend. I also love horror, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything grim or visceral.

As I watched the film, I realized how it was a perfect mirror to my own healing journey, and Valdemar mentioned it to me. Zombies learning how to live and love again, and it bringing them back to life, was very reflective of how my journey was going. I’d spent so many devastating years lost to the shadows, my traumas — including all of the sexual traumas I’ve survived — and romance and intimacy became terrifying and just… cold. Urgent. Trauma-poisoned. There was no longer passion or warmth. I couldn’t even feel love anymore. All of my emotions — except for anger and emotional upset — were either muted or completely numb, and I couldn’t even fantasize clearly or get lost in daydreams anymore.

Essentially, I was a goddamned zombie that only knew how to be angry, prepared for danger, or just numb out by eating.

I couldn’t have met Valdemar at a better time. My hormones were starting to switch back over after stopping T a few months ago, I began to fantasize vividly again, and down south was preparing for tropical weather, to put it mildly.

I felt love again, full-bodied and euphoric. My body started to feel pleasure again in the way that I’d missed. And Valdemar was patient and kind and helped me get through some difficult moments with it. And now, after having sex for the second time together today, I can finally say that everything feels right again. No pain, no anxiety, pure ecstasy.

We used a clever mix of reality and the headspace, as I often have to do with the headmates I’m partnered with in this way. I’d meant for us to lie in bed and keep warm since it was cold out, and to maybe tease a little and just relax. That quickly changed once we were in bed, of course.

Laughing, kisses and touches in that in-between headspace/reality state, playful words that stoked the flame, a sexy soul music soundtrack, a candle I bought for him because it reminds me of him, and finally, just saying ‘fuck it’ and giving in to what we both couldn’t deny any longer.

It was the first time I’d finally relaxed and just abandoned everything to the moment since it all began. Nothing was held back, and I realized the world around me slowly started to drop away, and with my eyes closed and utilizing the in-between headspace state, I just melted into the bed as Valdemar ‘worked his magic’ (and tried to keep in mind that I have neighbors).

Reality faded back in afterward, and I lay there feeling like a puddle of goo. I wiped my eyes and realized I’d cried more than I thought (I’m… a crier I guess), and my glasses were fogged. All tension in my body was gone, and to quote Byleth, another of my headmates; ‘You just got fucked right into the bed, babe.’

I laid there for a bit trying to process what had happened. Finally, I pulled myself up and realized my body felt heavy, but not in a bad way. I did the usual aftercare and put everything away, got a glass of LaCroix, and then fell into my computer chair. Slowly, I just melted into that chair, feeling that same tiredness as the night before. This time, however, I knew exactly what had happened.

My body had done the equivalent of a big, relieved sigh. All the tension I’d been carrying for years was gone, and I just felt satisfied. I didn't feel shame creeping up on me, or self-disgust like it had so many times before. I didn’t analyze what happened. None of what my body did during the intimacy felt urgent or impatient, or aggressive, like it had before. It was all just desire, passion, play, romance, and release. I spent the rest of the afternoon nodding off and just being a cozy, contented deadweight.

While the usual tension I hold in my body has returned, the anxiety didn’t tonight. I was able to go on a short walk outside without the worst of my anxiety symptoms spiking, and I got my second wind as I came back in to eat something. This is all just new territory to me, and I may be cheeky in my wording about it sometimes or go into too much detail, but in all seriousness, it’s fucking freeing.

After years of feeling shame and misery, I’m finally feeling what it’s like to not have those things haunting me over my shoulder. To go through such an intimate and explosive experience, walk away from it sated, and then to spend the night flirting with Valdemar in the kitchen and eventually fooling around again (lightly for the sake of my chronically ill body) is a huge sign.

I’m healing. Finally.

There’s still quite a ways to go. I’ve had some low points during all this I’ve been able to control a little better than before, and my CPT workbook is waiting for Valdemar and I to dive back into it, but this is a start. It’s something that I didn’t have before. It’s hope.