Trigger/Content Warning (TW/CW): this blog post contains mentions of masturbation, sexual assault, rape, child neglect and endangerment, and derogatory descriptives. Reader discretion is advised.
Today, I made a link into something I experience every so often and posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and it makes perfect sense to me.
I have entered "The Hypersexual Zone."
It is a state of being where the mind (or brain) seeks to find relief from the pain of abuse, neglect, and torture. In this case, it involves sex. Lots of sexual thoughts and fantasies. Lots of one-handed lovemaking. And lots of time wasted because all the body and mind want to do is fantasize about getting laid.
For example, I have edits to a paper that I need to turn in by this Friday (I'm a Judaism conversion student; another topic for another blog for another day). I wanted to get these edits completed at a library after an appointment today, but PTSD had other ideas.
"Hey," PTSD told my mind. "Let's go home and do some make believe sex and pretend that pillow is [insert nameless hot bod here] and catch up on that sleep because you only got 3 hours of sleep last night."
"But, I don't wanna," my mind replied to PTSD.
"Vera, I'm exhausted," my body whined to my mind. "I want some sleep."
"Great. Two pains in the ass for the price of one. Okay, fine," lamented my mind.
I ended up going home instead of going to a library.
And yes, this epic nonsense will, in fact, do whatever it takes to interfere with the quality of life, because it's PTSD and it doesn't give a fuck.
So what in the hell made you end up in this "Hypersexual Zone"?
Great question. In my case, I end up in this state of insatiability due to something traumatic or trauma triggering. It probably has to do with the fact that I was sexually assaulted as a minor by a classmate and raped by an ex-fiancé. It also probably has to do with being exposed to sex at a very young age (discovering a stash of nude pictorial magazines and graphic erotica novels, having sexual fantasies involving cartoon characters, supposedly covering my eyes when a gratuitous sex scene showed up in some VHS-rented movie, etc.); you know, the kind of stuff you really shouldn't be sharing on a blog unless you have a pretty good point for doing so.
Whenever I was exposed to trauma (now remember, an autistic child will more than likely experience trauma more intensely because brain receptors), to find comfort and solace, since I wasn't being given any comfort and solace, I equated to what I was exposed to (all the grown folk stuff) as love. Because nobody was in pain; everyone was happy. I want happy. Pretty disturbing stuff being exposed and processed like camera film to a 5-year old.
Last week was a very stressful and depressing week. It started with trying to work through a heavy depression spell, went into a trauma-triggering episode that left me physically ill for a couple of days, and made me miss an opportunity to perform at my temple's Purim spiel. After working with my doctors and friends over the weekend, I was feeling better. Or at least I thought I was. I started to watch some wrestling clips on the internet (because wrestling, fuck yeah!) and got immediately turned on to one performer in particular (mostly because he closely resembles somebody outside the ring to whom I also crush hard for). And now all my mind, body, and soul wants to do is think about getting laid with my new fantasy muse (knowing damn well it ain't happening in the history of ever, heh). For maybe a few moments, it's a great experience. But when it goes on for hours, days, weeks, or even months, like a penile erection gone horribly wrong after taking one of those erectile dysfunction pills, it's time to get that addressed.
What can you do to "snap out of it"?
Well, first, I can't just "snap out of it." That and other else-talk ("mind over matter," "think positive," "fake it until you make it") is what we, in the disabled community, call ableist speech.
Ableist speech? Like, seriously?
Ableist speech are words and phrases that are prejudiced and biased against someone who is disabled. Example: calling a noun "insane," "crazy," or "nuts," believe it or not, is a pejorative, or a degrading term. (Note: I am just as guilty as you are in using ableist speech, and my daily goal is to eradicate the ableism from my vernacular.) The same goes for describing those with limited mobility ("lame") and those with developmental limitations ("retard," "stupid," "dumb"). The examples listed is not complete; there are other ableist speech that exists. I mean, you wouldn't call a person of color a "darkie," a trans* person a "tranny," a woman a "cunt," or a gay person a "dyke," so why call a disabled person a "retard" or "crazy"?
Okay, point made. So, how are you going to relieve yourself of this sex issue?
I vow to do this. If I can't get this blasted paper done by Friday evening, I'm calling the doctor first thing Monday morning to see what options are available. If I do get the paper edits completed, I'll bring this issue up at my next appointment. In any event, this will be discussed and dealt with.
And if you are dealing with similar issues, I hope this post will help you initiate the discussion with your medical provider or crisis hotline agent.