I went and saw a sex therapist today. We’ve hit some snags in the bedroom and I finally bit the bullet and booked an appointment with an actual sex therapist. I have a regular therapist who I feel like is my friend (I am fully aware that she is a friend I pay $180 an hour to, but still!). Sex stuff just seems... off limits. A little too personal. Like I couldn’t confide in someone who KNOWS me about THAT kind of stuff, you know?
My sex therapy session started out with the general getting to know me questions like “so, what brings you here?” I was thinking more along the lines of “Seriously girl? What DOESN’T bring me here? 19 years of partnership and all the baggage being lugged around... well there’s that. I have endometriosis... there’s that... 15 years of infertility, so there’s that. Oh and we’re parenting two small children, so ya, there’s that too. So young therapist (like how do professionals all look twelve these days?), where do you even want to start?”
She was awesome. I feel I wasn’t as awkward as I thought I would be. I said words out loud that I would usually be embarrassed to say out loud. It was freeing and enlightening and uncomfortable. But discomfort is good right now. I need to stew in discomfort, like the real raw reasons of discomfort, before I can start really feeling comfortable.
Sex is a weird thing... like it’s not but it is. It’s so hard to talk about (for me) and it makes me feel super vulnerable. I don’t know if it’s because my family is now complete or if it’s because I’m getting older or what the hell, but I need to figure out how to be okay and open and be good with my boundaries. A new chapter in healing I hope.
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