Thoughts: Depression, Meds and Orgasms
The idea for this thoughts post came to me while I was masturbating and looking at Twitter. The lovely Epiphora was tweeting links to her blog about her experience on Zoloft and it reminded me of my various experiences on meds. I never really wanted to make this blog about my mental health problems because part of the reason I started it was to take my mind off everything around me.
Another reason is that I thought that the information I would divulge would be too identifying for those who knew me but did not know about my BDSM/sex inclinations. I’m still worried that will be the case but I think sharing this experience is more important than hiding who I am. It doesn’t hurt either that today (10th September) is World Suicide Prevention Day and so this post is timely.
Warning: May be a trigger for those with similar experiences. Mentions bullying among other subjects. Extremely long and personal.
My backstory is this: I have been a sufferer of depression and anxiety since I was 11 years old but did not even know until my second year of university when I was 19 years old. That was a pretty rough time; I never found life so hard to cope with before I found out I had proper mental problems because I thought it was normal. I thought spending hours in my room alone crying and wanting to die was what high school was supposed to do to you. The eventual shutting-down of emotions felt natural, and before I had known what was going on I couldn’t cry or laugh any more. I could giggle and smile if I really tried but it was never genuine. The fact that no one could tell is one of the things that makes me worried even to this day.
I won’t go into too many details here about the bullying that occurred in my high school. Partly because even thinking about it makes me want to keel over and partly because I don’t want to set anyone else off into their own personal hells. This post was mainly to talk about the effects of my meds, not to garner sympathy or make anyone worse. Long story short: there was not a day that passed in the 5 years I attended that someone did not say something cruel, try to hurt me physically or steal my things. I did not have many friends. Every single year (from year 7s to year 13s) picked on me; even those that were younger because I simply gave up on the idea of fighting back. This was not exclusive to my own high school either; my family had the wonderful idea of sending me to the school furthest away from my actual house so that I got three schools’ worth of bullying on the way home. All because I had a rather minor physical disability.
Upon finding out that these things were not normal at all, I spent a long while avoiding everyone and everything because I simply didn’t know what else to do. I’d already been blocking myself off from reality since I was 14 by involving myself deeply in roleplaying characters from my favourite anime and writing smutty fanfiction. I’d built my own life online so I could ignore the one I actually had and be someone respected for my thoughts, not what I looked like. When I knew I was deeply in depression, I had nothing else I could try to hide behind because I already had a persona online. The impact of what was wrong with me was almost impossible to shake. I’d failed my second year at university when I eventually went to the doctors about it and I was prescribed meds and therapy to help me along with a 6 month time estimate for recovery.
It has been 3 years since then and I’m still not recovered today. I don’t think I ever will be.
I have had various medications prescribed since, as well as some therapy appointments but nothing has worked. I actually ended up spending 5 years at university and essentially left with nothing because of my inability to cope. I couldn’t even summon the courage to officially file my problems with them because I was so ashamed. The only thing I got out of doing university for so long is my Daddy — but he is worth every single minute of self-doubt and self-hatred I have ever had.
Admittedly, I haven’t tried many types of meds because I felt guilty and miserable about having to take them. I felt weak, I felt like I was attention-seeking and I hated every second of it. My family did not help me shift this idea either – every time I wanted to talk to them for help they would brush me off and say they were busy and whenever they thought I couldn’t hear they would be talking about how depression was a bunch of rubbish amongst themselves.
That reaction is one of the reasons I just stopped taking certain meds. I couldn’t take their scorn and had to pretend I was okay for a while to stop feeling like everyone hated me. It just made things worse.
The first meds I tried were Citalopram. Among its adverse affects are difficulty becoming aroused, lack of interest in sex and anorgasmia. I did not stay on these long due to this; not being able to orgasm was more stressful for me than the feelings of worthlessness and suicide I was experiencing because I was at least used to feeling awful. For mild backstory here: I didn’t have any orgasms or masturbate until I went to university and a friend convinced me to buy my first sex toy online. I had only been doing it a year or so and it had already become extremely important in my life that I could do it.
The next medication I tried was Sertraline and I was on a dose of 50mg. Sertraline was alright at first; I didn’t really have side-effects that I noticed and so I was pretty happy to take it. Then my family had a large party which Daddy and I had to go to where I completely lost my shit. I had a massive screaming breakdown in my grandparents’ house and essentially outed myself as a sufferer to the family members who had known nothing of it before. The whole thing caused a lot of unrest in my family for a long time, to the point of my mother taking my meds from Daddy’s bag and researching them online behind my back. She later told me what a lot of shit it all was and how people with depression had nothing to be sad about and should suck it up. I then stopped taking meds entirely out of shame for almost a year.
This of course did not last long and when I couldn’t do my university work yet again I opted to go back on meds because I hoped they would help. They did not. Fluoxetine is the worst medication I have ever taken. The adverse effects listed online barely cover the shit I had to put up with. Both Daddy and I were prescribed these around the same time by different doctors so we encouraged each other to take them. He lasted 3 weeks before he couldn’t take it anymore and quit without telling me, whereas I took them for maybe 4 weeks overall and quit when he told me he had. It has been more than a year since we stopped them and yet we still suffer some of the side-effects today. During the time we took them, we actually ended up fighting a lot more than we ever had before and this lasted for around 6 months, even for a short while after we stopped living together.
During the time when I lived with Daddy I had gone back to my doctor and told them I couldn’t cope with meds any more. The doctor I saw then decided to prescribe me some Escitalopram, though I said specifically that I did not want any more. I never even cashed this prescription because I was so upset over what had happened with Fluoxetine that I just couldn’t stomach the idea of more meds. I still had the prescription itself the other week until I binned it.
However, after crashing and burning again in my fifth year of university, I went to the doctors and begged for meds again. I was put back on Sertraline on a higher dose of 100mg this time and it is the medication I am supposed to be taking now. I haven’t really had any terrible symptoms yet but I keep forgetting to take it or feeling defiant about doing so. It may well effect me further down the line.
My experience on meds has basically taught me that it’s better to stay off them. The side-effects and stress I have when I take them is much harder for me to cope with than the other urges I get. It just doesn’t feel worth having the unknown effects because they actually make me more suicidal and depressed.
I suffer from anorgasmia and have done for as long as I remember. I have no sensitivity to pleasure in both my vagina or my ass and even touches over my skin have little effect. There is no sensitivity in my breasts either. The only place that I can feel pleasure is my clit and even then I need a specific type of vibrator or it doesn’t feel good at all. Whether I have been on medication or not, it has always been a huge issue for me and I don’t even know why. Of course, being on SSRIs makes it even more difficult but if I try long enough, I can finish. It is nowhere near as pleasurable as porn makes it seem on the internet, nor as pleasurable as my friends seem to experience when I have asked them, but it is at least something.
If you’re wondering how I can use and test sex toys effectively because of this, the answer is by being creative with what I do, having a Daddy who is sexually versatile and trying really fucking hard. There are very few toys that I can’t work my way around even with my restrictions, however I am always going to avoid penetrative toys unless I can use them on Daddy because they do utterly nothing for me.
As I mentioned in my post 10 Reasons Why Being a Sex Toy Tester Is Good, one of the main reasons I love being a sex toy blogger (and tester, I suppose) is because it builds my self-confidence and pride in my sexuality. In a lot of ways, it gives me another reason to live. Though it can be difficult at times because of my mental problems I would not trade it for the world. For every company that takes their time to invest in me or pays attention to my opinion, I feel a little better.
Since I was 14, I have used various versions of sex to keep myself from committing suicide. It was smutty fanfiction at first, then it was sexual roleplay which developed into masturbation and actual sex before expanding into the lovely realm of BDSM. These things, along with the few close friends I have had throughout, are the only reasons I am still alive and writing this blog today. Without them as distractions and supports, I do not know where I would be now.
And that is just a few of the reasons why I will never take meds that mess with my sexual performance ever again.