The end of the fight is not the end but the beginning.

I stopped fighting.

Since I was very young, I’ve always been fighting. First against stress, than against a (never formally acknowledged, but seen in retrospect) depression, against all the sadness I felt (I was never good at crying), against the grief about the death of my sister, for relationships that were not good for me but that I kept going anyway, for feeling better and coming out of my burn0ut.

The last couple of months I’ve been fighting to regain my sexuality, to get back that sense of wanting, of needing, sex. But I don’t. I don’t want sex with men at the moment, which also means I don’t want sex with the boyfriend. Although girls are way more interesting sexually, I don’t feel like going all the way with them either. I just don’t feel that  sexual.

I don’t fight any more. I feel what I feel, and at this moment my feelings are quite a-sexual. I get aroused sometimes, but more often than not when I am alone and safe in my own bed. I sometimes do want sex, but that is usually a short lasting feeling. I want intimacy and kissing and cuddling and stroking and touching and bdsm-ish things, both with the boyfriend and with girls, but I don’t have the want or need to take their panties/boxers of, just as I don’t have the want or need to allow them to get into mine.

And that is all completely fine and accepted by me.

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1 Response so far »

  1. 1

    kitten said,

    Sounds like you found a piece of rest inside your head there. I hope it stays for a while, so you can let go of the stress the fighting gave you.

    *hugs*


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