Damage

If you follow me on Twitter you may have realized that my nerves don’t always necessarily work the way they should. Peripheral neuropathy is not constant but normal. I can feel my feet but they rarely register pain.

Menstruation is a problem. Setting aside the shame and highly unpleasant associations (if only it were that easy), nerve issues sometimes kick in. I can feel but it doesn’t register. It’s like my cunt is made of plastic, or has been hit with novacaine. I can feel it, vaguely, but it hardly feels like mine.

What I can feel is visceral pain. Cramps severe enough that I can’t do anything but curl around them and try to breathe. Orgasm is the only reliable way to abate the cramping for a few hours.

Orgasm is either very difficult to achieve or just impossible on days when the pain is worst. There’s the mental blocks, doors I have to make sure are closed before I even try. Then the plastic feeling, the thoughts that come out of that, the shaking sense that whatever this thing is that I’m touching definitely can’t be part of me. The simple lack of sensitivity.

I’ve spent an hour with three of my favorite toys trying to get off, not even for the sexual relief but just to stop the pain enough to sleep. And failed. So now I’m pushing back disgust that I can’t get myself off when it’s normally so easy, grumpy, frustrated, exhausted. I’m feeling petty that this is the thing that I focus on, not the risk of falling or passing out on a bad day, not the blisters and cuts and broken toes that nerve issues usually let me miss. Feeling damaged and broken and unusable.

I’m not looking for advice or sympathy on this, just taking the space to vent.

One thought on “Damage”

  1. Understandable. Bringing yourself pleasure is a deeply intimate and personal thing, and while the risks are worse, they aren’t that intimate.
    So sorry. Breathe. How it is right now is just how it is right now. Hopefully, the plastic will not always be there. I sense your frustration and wish it wasn’t there, but understand.

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