Sex With Limited Mobility

Growing up, we saw physically disabled people as the odd ones out. I could take responsibility for viewing disabled people that way, but that was how everybody around me viewed them. I had no chance of “knowing better,” at least in that environment and age. That was the case until I was introduced to this class and had a fair share of friends who were open-minded. These people changed my thinking in both positive and negative ways, but the point that they taught me that people are different; not everyone is going to look and act the same as everybody else, and that is okay. I know the previous statement can come out as a very “duhh” statement for most of yall; however, I didn’t use to think like that. It was more of “you are weird! something is wrong with you.” And of course, like most adolescents who are just discovering sex and how it works, I wondered what sex must have been like for people with spinal cord injuries and other disabilities like that. I asked myself, “Do they feel anything down there?” or questions like, “can women who are paralyzed from the waist down give birth?” Most of these questions came from mostly ignorance and a bit of curiosity. 

Sexuality and Disability: The Missing Discourse of Pleasure by Mitchell Tepper opened my eyes to this issue regarding disabled people and sex. An article like Tepper’s is exactly what people like me missed back in junior high. From reading the article, I learned that sex is more than just borrowing some friction from a partner, and there are more ways to derive sexual pleasure that does not involve the privates. I found it heartbreaking that some disabled individuals give up on their sex lives because they believe that there is no point in trying, “nothing will be the same.” And that is when Mitchell Tepper steps-up and encourages people with SCI that their “sexuality is their responsibility.” These people learned more about the spinal cord-injured bodies and embraced their disability. Evidently, disabled people in wheelchairs tend to have a more difficult time finding a sexual partner than abled individuals; most of this is due to the stigma around disability and sex and partially due to self rejecting before they can even try. Self rejection is a problem that we need to tackle. We (teachers and professors) need to teach about pleasure and sexuality in order to shine a light on this topic of sex and disability and hopefully reduce the stigma and misinformation around disability and sex.

Dispair / *Despair

I have many impairments. I need glasses. I need tasks repeated, written down in planners, reminded of multiple times throughout the day, written in front of me, with a harsh deadline in order to get done. I even had braces, and should be using my long-lost retainer inside a hot-pink case to keep that “aesthetic impairment” in check (sorry to my future dentist). But I don’t think I would have ever considered myself disabled until now that I’m facing mobility issues.

Read more: Dispair / *Despair

To be frank: I still don’t consider myself disabled. I just think the possibility is higher now. I’m older (not too old), and have had incredible stressors placed on my body (an example being COVID in May, as well as the mental stressor of work and a deteriorating friendship) – it’s natural for things to start “falling apart” or “not working as well as they used to”. 

But buddy, if you have these impairments – surely you’ve been disabled this entire time! Like, sure, I guess. Except for the fact that my visual and cognitive impairments are the “more manageable” impairments that I face. I have glasses, although I need to go in to update my prescription every few years. I have ADHD, although I need to constantly ensure I can get access to adderall without jumping through ten thousand hoops – not to mention admitting my amphetamine results on drug tests are because of medication, something I am always embarrassed of (another conversation for another day). Mobility impairments aren’t in the same ballpark solely because the “solutions” are less accessible. 

In order to check that my ankles are chronically messed up, I have to have routine conversations with my doctor. This means testing out theories of new/different shoes, stretches, exercise plans, and pain medications. Some of which could help, but only for a few periods of time. Others can have no impact whatsoever, or even make my pain worse. Once these are all ruled out, then comes the tests. X-rays. Blood tests. Gait checks. Then the waiting. Then the results. Then the realization, whether good or bad – that I need help. Then the vulnerable accommodations. Begging to be taken seriously, if I was even given the advantage of being taken seriously from the get-go, which not everyone is privileged to. I’m fortunate enough to be working somewhere where the walk from my car and the building isn’t too harsh, but from Parking Lot 29/Walker Apartments (wherever there’s a free commuter spot) to Engineering is absolutely unbearable. So the disability pass – if I even qualify for one – would only be for school, which already feels like a debate that’s waiting to happen: are you really disabled? 

That’s when I circle the drain. Is it easier to just accept yourself as impaired, but not disabled? But then, how do you gain accomodations for such impairments? Do you just stick it out, saying it’s not worth it and continue suffering in silence?

Why has society ruined the idea of being disabled?

Upward Spiraling Out of My Body Dysmorphia

Image by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

trigger warnings: body dysmorphia, suicide, mentions of disordered eating, illness

If you remember what your body looks like, I think you’re one of the lucky ones. If you don’t, then I’m not so glad this is what we have in common. Coming from an older West Indian family, my body was always a discussion. No matter how many soccer practices I showed up to, salads I ate, nor how well I did in P.E. class, whenever an aunt approached me it was always “You’ve gotten bigger!” Even throughout my adulthood my body has gotten bigger. I know I’m big, but I wish they knew that I didn’t need to be reminded every second of my life.  

I think it’s important to note that I wasn’t always fat, but I still struggled with food and dieting at a young age. Having to deal with cholesterol issues during elementary school was the start of my long, relentless relationship with food. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office with my uncle, his eyes glazed over, listening to every word my pediatrician said. My relationship with food not only originates in this moment, but also with my family’s history of heart disease, diabetes, and many other debilitating diseases. By the time I reached high school, my uncle had a coronary angioplasty, stent insertion, triple bypass heart surgery, and several other surgeries for various kinds of cancer. He never wanted me to suffer like he did.  

For as long as I can remember, my uncle micro-managed everything that graced my plate. There were even times we fought at the dinner table so he could see whatever takeout I’d brought home. The stress of bringing home any form of food that he would scrutinize started to transfer into other aspects of my life. In middle school I discovered how uncomfortable it made me feel to eat in public spaces. In high school I even went as far as to become the library aide so I could escape the daunting task of consuming food in the adolescent-filled cafeteria and tried my best to retreat back to the library every lunch break. The library was my safe haven, a place of structure for the moments where I felt the most vulnerable. This is still a habit I have today, I always look for security.

It wasn’t until my senior year of high school that I started my first romantic relationship. He was beautiful, smart, and even had a piercing on one ear that was the jackpot of my teenage girl fantasies. Being with him was the first time someone told me I was pretty. For someone that had only dreamed of having a boyfriend, that meant the world to me. I naively thought that feeling would last forever. As the pandemic raged on, and quarantine forced us into our isolated nests, there became an evident strain on our relationship. Still, we continued to stay with each other. I never noticed when his demeanor changed or that I couldn’t fit into half of my jeans anymore, or even that I was getting bigger than him. I made a huge mistake. You know that horrible mistake people make when they get lost in a relationship because they already have constant bodily validation? Yeah, that one. I gained the “happy weight”, I let myself go. People hate happy weight because being fat makes you feel empty and alone after a relationship. Nobody thinks that you’re attractive anymore and it feels like now there’s this huge responsibility that you have to get back to when you were skinnier. I fucked up.

Coming out of that relationship I became extremely depressed. I moved back in with my family, back to a space I never felt secure in. Endless nights spent scrolling through Tinder, a space where your body is always being perceived, felt completely invalidating. I was a completely different person. And I didn’t feel that way because I had loved and learned valuable lessons about navigating relationships, but it was because I was fat. Everytime I looked into the mirror, a devil appeared on my shoulder pointing out every flaw on my now monstrous body. It’s like my ego had turned against me. 

I didn’t want to live in my body anymore. I thought I was nothing without the comfort of another person telling me I was good enough. I can’t say that I never feel that way today, but I’ve worked on it. I’m not about to go on a spiel about how much it matters to love yourself, nor about how self-love is a journey and not a destination… but would love really be worth it if it meant that I had to be skinny, athletic, or fit any of the aesthetic qualities guys on dating apps wanted? Probably not. But I want to be better, because I know that the moments in between these feelings of doubt and despair are much more important than these superficial views of my body. Though, how I never saw myself changing is still a phenomena to me.

In the end, I’m still trying to upward spiral out of this feeling called body dysmorphia.

Rude Awakening/Death to Compulsion

3 years ago I left a v*rb*lly ab*s*ve relationship. I was so young, I remember all I wanted after it was over was someone who loved me. And you did, immensely. I know you still do. And none of our friends understand why, even my dad doesn’t understand why I woke you up last month to break up with you. 

Wrote this when I was sad

I just want to start by saying we don’t know what we are doing , falling into and out of vibes and unparalleled energies. As we try to balance our everyday struggles, constantly distracting ourselves from the stressors of reality and responsibilities. We often find ourselves feeling ways we can’t explain or understand , turning to music that capture every aspect of your situation freakily. You think you’re feeling better yet you’re just being thrown into an endless spiral of constantly being reminded , reminiscent , saddened. As you realize that that flame , that energy , that connection is coming to an end. Your body repulses the idea , your mind questions and berates the idea , you begin to feel in ways you probably never felt before. Then life catches up to you , while the world you created is shattering crashing before your eyes , you forgot about the world where you were created. Schoolwork , work , bills , your everyday commitments now all stalk you waiting to throw the next punch. What do you do?

Find another distraction!?? No. Build another world!?? No. Get up and get out there!? Noo. Sit and take it and try to understand why you feel this way. Unlock your emotions , become in tune with your body. Ground yourself , re-center, and realign yourself.

Realizing your worth , realizing that you have your own path in life, realizing that everyone in this world has their own life , and realizing that you have to focus on yourself. Will be the best thing for you , don’t force anything with time if . Put your focus and energy back into your life , recall all your energy that people have taken from you. Get back on your shit, excuse my French. Tu parle francais ? No , well maybe , but it’s just a saying. Healing your mental body , developing your physical body , nurturing your astral body.

If you’re reading this I just want to say , What are you waiting for?
“Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.” – Dr Seuss

SAY THIS WITH ME

Winning the Game

It took me a while to realize that my former social anxiety has morphed into a new form: what I call health anxiety.

You want a piece of me?

Every day I question my appearance. I ask myself, what makes me ……. me? If I lose a part of me will I still be me? These questions may not make sense to you but these are some things that I ask myself.

Just take the complement.

Growing up, I had never been very comfortable with my body, specifically in terms of my weight. Throughout high school I was never the most girly or skinny but I was generally okay with that. Uncomfortable at times yes, but I had friends, I played sports and did generally well in school academically so I didn’t have a very unpleasant high school experience. I enjoyed it a lot actually. It wasn’t until after l left my home town and would come back to visit friends and family that I started questioning the way I viewed myself as well as how others viewed me then and now. Without a doubt every time I go home and see someone from high school, close friends, and sometimes even parents of friends, that I haven’t seen in a while, one of the first things that they comment on is my weight. Usually things like, oh my god, you’ve lost so much weight or you look so good now, have you been working out a lot? What’s your secret? And every once in a while someone will add to the end of the comment “not that you ever looked bad or big, you just look really good now.”  I tell myself to just take the compliment, but it’s hard to just take it when there is an underlying negative aspect that I can’t help but to associate with it. These comments really have me self-reflecting a lot because I weigh maybe five to ten pounds lighter than I did in high school, do I really look that different?

Most of the weight loss is not a healthy weight loss. Which took me a long time to realize. More so result of not taking time to eat properly because of stress and anxiety and a general lack of appetite because of it. But everyone responds to my body like I have lost a drastic amount of weight. This has caused me to think excessively about a time in my life that has long since passed. Was I just the funny fat girl who happened to have pretty friends, and that’s why people hung around me? Or were people friends with me because they genuinely enjoyed my company? Even my mother has made the comment of “she just doesn’t eat anymore” when people comment on my weight loss around her. To everyone else, I have lost weight and that’s such a good thing, but for me the weight loss and comments serve as a constant reminder that I have become temporarily incapable of taking care of myself and body because of the stress, anxiety, and depression that I deal with every day. The past couple years have been the most trying for me mentally so having this constant reminder of that adds another layer to the hardship. Work, school, and other obligations are always put first over making sure that my body is healthy and well taken care of, both physically and mentally.

Technology and Bodies

Technology changes our bodies. It can let us do so much more, and go beyond our normal bodily capabilities. However, it can also damage our bodies.

(subversive?) self care

Its really difficult to talk about self care generally because everyone needs something different, but I also think sharing self care experiences is a useful thing to do.
I would describe self care as a way of life. For me its not just, taking a shower or treating myself every now and then. Its the day to day moments. Self care is everything from being able to take a step back from my egoic self, and instead of feeling my anxieties and desires with full force, being able to mindfully and compassionately process the situations to make the best decisions I can.