So, the reason that I fell IN LOVE with sex therapy and the concept thereof, was my passion for working with people who are HIV + and their partners. In college, I watched an amazing film on serodiscordant couples and thought "If I could do anything for forever, working with these couples would be it." I was passionate about HIV advocacy, as a die-hard Freddie Mercury fan and a niece of an HIV + person, who had been living with HIV since the early 1990s. My love with working with HIV + populations took a fantastic turn when I worked with positive people in North Philadelphia for my first internship in graduate school. After running a group for positive individuals focused on sexuality, sexual health, and sexual risks, I couldn't stand how much I LOVED working HIV and sexuality.
So, I started talking about how sex is affected by illness, specifically HIV. My obsession with HIV in relationships became just that, and I couldn't listen enough to stories of pain, suffering, care-giving, and heart break. Whether they were infected by a lover who didn't tell them, or whether they modified their entire sexual practice to protect others, or whether they blatantly disregarded their status and continued unsafe sexual relationships, I couldn't get enough. This multilayered relationship of love, illness, trust, and pain was so rich with intrigue.
Now, I face a similar struggle in my personal life. Although not HIV, as I personally may be facing a chronic illness, my head spins with scenarios and deception and suffering. Do I want my partner to be my care-giver for the rest of my life? How do I struggle through the burden of feeling like a burden to all those around me? How can I choose to be intimate with my partner, when my vulnerability to him may become an essential part of my survival.
But, I digress.
The real reason I write this post is not about care-giving and illness and its effect on relationships (although this will be a topic for discussion, I'm sure). My real motivation is how to feel sexy and how to be sexual when you are facing illness.
How did my couples deal with illness and fears of death, and still be sexual? How did they find a way to face fear of transmission and still be physically intimate with one another? The question is one that is seeped in heartache.
As I go through the motions of testing, and waiting, and thinking, and praying, I don't feel terribly sexy. I don't want to be sexual. I don't want to fulfill this historic desire, that had, previously, been a necessity. Because, now, it is no longer a need, or a want, or a desire. It is a death sentence.
And that, right there is why HIV discordant couples blow my mind. Sex, for many, is what caused illness, and is still an essential part of life (because sex always is), so how do you get through it, and find sex sexy again and not just scary?
For me, not knowing if I have, or will have, cancer is overwhelming. I work three jobs, often 12 to 14 hour days, to keep from thinking about it. And, the fact that I could have cancer because I had sex (yep, we're talking cervical), makes me not want to have sex anymore. It makes me feel diseased, and utterly unsexy and attractive. When I get cat-called on the street (which will be yet another post for a later day), I think to myself, "he has no idea that I could be festering with disease." Because you can't tell from looking at me that I could be sick, just like most people.
Suddenly, this has become not about my clients and all about me. Apologies. But I feel it's relevant.
I remember sitting across from positive people and hearing them talk about their sex life and their concept of their sexual self as it had changed since their diagnosis and feeling this emotion in my heart of hearts; identifying so strongly with their experience that it was as if I experienced it myself. And now I do. Kind of.
So, the question remains, how do you bring sexy back when you're sick? And when your sick comes from sex?
I'm not quite sure. I know that a lot of different things have worked for different clients. Some, stop having sex with others all together. Some find love that works around their illness and continue to trust and love even with health concerns. Others, completely ignore their illness and stuff it down and forget about it (but it's always there).
It might be a grieving process. Right now, I'm depressed. I have been angry, I have denied, I have bargained (mostly with my insurance company). But I haven't yet accepted. And maybe that's where I need to end up, although that's a process itself. But sex can't be sexy without acceptance of all aspects of self. Even illness. Or perceived illness.
So, next steps are acceptance.
In the thick of this fear of diagnosis, I wait. And I dread. And I hope. But I must accept. That may come with confirmation of testing. That may come with knowing I have a loving, supportive, wonderful partner, family, and friends who have supported me through this and will continue to do so regardless of results.
I hope that sexy comes back soon. It may not. I may need a physical break from sex to bring back self-esteem and self-concept.
As I process this (via this post), I find acceptance as my only option to sexy coming back. And that can only come with time.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
What's in a Name?
What is in a name? What do different names, phrases, titles, labels mean to us? What do they mean to others? For me, the most activating name is "Greg." For others, it may be "Becky." Who knows, but we all have names or labels we don't like so much, for lots of different reasons.
This entry isn't about names, necessarily. It is about titles, labels, and things we call ourselves to better identify ourselves to the masses. But sometimes (read: all the time), these labels mean something to someone else (usually the person we're talking to). How can we express the way we identify ourselves to another without baggage and missed meanings that so often come along with what different words mean to different people.
Maybe clarifying what inspired this post may make this all a little less meta.
Recently, I was sitting with a lesbian couple in session. One woman said, "I am not gay, that's not how I would identify." Upon further exploration, this woman said she would self-identify as being bisexual, because, for her, she is attracted to and has dated/slept with/been in relationships with both men and women.
Her partner chuckled and said "I don't date bisexuals." Upon my further exploring this, this woman felt that being bisexual meant an individual would have sex with "whoever" and that this label described someone who was more polyamorous than bisexual (at least by my definitions).
Both these women have points, and their own personal understanding of what "bisexual" means. These may be discordant, but they still exist as realities for both parts of this couple.
How can we make each other understand what we mean by the way we identify, and how is could be different from how you understand what my identity means to me?
As a person who identifies as queer, I often get a lot of raised eyebrows and "what does that mean?" directed my way. All *valid* questions, which are usually answered with "I am not heterosexual" or "My attraction to others is not contingent on that individual's genitals," depending on my audience.
But for many, especially of an older generation, the term "queer" is loaded with hateful meanings, disrespect, misunderstanding, and oppression. As it becomes a term of academic reclaiming "queer" has taken on a new meaning, but that doesn't mean the old meaning goes away.
Explaining who we are and who we love is tricky stuff, and something I struggle with daily. Finally finding my own peace with my sexual identity, I now face the challenge of explaining what this identity means to others as I understand it for myself.
As we look at couples, friends, and families who may all understand a word differently, how do we combat disagreement, anger, and arguing?
Accept the grey area? Understand that the same word can mean different things to different people? Have a lot of conversations about "what that means to me"? Talk to one another? (Of course that's my solution!)
By having a clear understanding of who we are to ourselves, we can better explain who we are to others. We can hope that we are the exception to each others' rules against "dating the bisexual," for example. We can be the token example for our loved ones to understand something they thought they didn't understand or like or want to be around. Because we are all individual. We all describe things differently. We all are different people by description and definition. Let's celebrate this and explain who we are, how we've gotten there, and how we best understand ourselves, so we can have others better understand us as well.
This entry isn't about names, necessarily. It is about titles, labels, and things we call ourselves to better identify ourselves to the masses. But sometimes (read: all the time), these labels mean something to someone else (usually the person we're talking to). How can we express the way we identify ourselves to another without baggage and missed meanings that so often come along with what different words mean to different people.
Maybe clarifying what inspired this post may make this all a little less meta.
Recently, I was sitting with a lesbian couple in session. One woman said, "I am not gay, that's not how I would identify." Upon further exploration, this woman said she would self-identify as being bisexual, because, for her, she is attracted to and has dated/slept with/been in relationships with both men and women.
Her partner chuckled and said "I don't date bisexuals." Upon my further exploring this, this woman felt that being bisexual meant an individual would have sex with "whoever" and that this label described someone who was more polyamorous than bisexual (at least by my definitions).
Both these women have points, and their own personal understanding of what "bisexual" means. These may be discordant, but they still exist as realities for both parts of this couple.
How can we make each other understand what we mean by the way we identify, and how is could be different from how you understand what my identity means to me?
As a person who identifies as queer, I often get a lot of raised eyebrows and "what does that mean?" directed my way. All *valid* questions, which are usually answered with "I am not heterosexual" or "My attraction to others is not contingent on that individual's genitals," depending on my audience.
But for many, especially of an older generation, the term "queer" is loaded with hateful meanings, disrespect, misunderstanding, and oppression. As it becomes a term of academic reclaiming "queer" has taken on a new meaning, but that doesn't mean the old meaning goes away.
Explaining who we are and who we love is tricky stuff, and something I struggle with daily. Finally finding my own peace with my sexual identity, I now face the challenge of explaining what this identity means to others as I understand it for myself.
As we look at couples, friends, and families who may all understand a word differently, how do we combat disagreement, anger, and arguing?
Accept the grey area? Understand that the same word can mean different things to different people? Have a lot of conversations about "what that means to me"? Talk to one another? (Of course that's my solution!)
By having a clear understanding of who we are to ourselves, we can better explain who we are to others. We can hope that we are the exception to each others' rules against "dating the bisexual," for example. We can be the token example for our loved ones to understand something they thought they didn't understand or like or want to be around. Because we are all individual. We all describe things differently. We all are different people by description and definition. Let's celebrate this and explain who we are, how we've gotten there, and how we best understand ourselves, so we can have others better understand us as well.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Long Distance Lovers
Although the last time I dated someone who lived more than an hour from me, I wasn't even driving a car (which made long-distance that much longer), I currently sit with several women who are involved in long-distance relationships. One couple met on vacation and live on opposite sides of the country. One woman is dating a man who is currently incarcerated. For whatever reason, some times people fall in love at great distances. Whether these distances are physical or emotional, I get to hear all about the gaps between clients and their partners.
Stats are varying in regards to "successful" long distance relationships, as well as how many people are in relationships that render them apart from their partner. But here's a nifty little statistic picture that helps us get a handle on who really is doing it from afar:
I've also found statistics that read "30% of LDRs work out," whatever that means...
Whether the long distance relationship you find yourself in has an end date or end goal in mind also affects the relationship itself, just like all relationships. If you know you'll be together at this point in time, or know that you are working towards the same goal (getting married, having kids, moving to the same continent), your relationship is probably more likely to "work out" than those long distance relationships which do not have an ending point or a set next step in mind. But this goes for all relationships, and I think that's the point I'd like to make in this post: Regardless of how far away or how close together you live to your significant other, you MUST be on the same page as far as goals, hopes, and next steps.
Many times we find ourselves in relationships we are really happy in and having the time of our life. Often, we don't want this good time to end. But, if we don't communicate with our partner what we hope our next steps together as a couple are, our partner does not know. So, how can we gauge what we will do and where we will go together if we never get input from the other person in our relationship? Whether this communication is lacking because of physical distance or emotional distance, without this vital planning, we can never expect to get where we plan to be going together, alone.
So, best wishes to all couples out there, far apart or close together. Those with physical distance may be working harder to connect physically, whereas those who are living together may still not be emotionally open to their partner about future wants and needs. Whatever your hang-up, talk about it!
If you find yourself involved in, or thinking about getting involved in, a long-distance relationship, be sure to try to follow these tips to staying sane. Actually, these tips could and should be used for all relationships, no matter how far apart you are from one another.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Good Girls Who Love Bad Boys
Isn't it just the truth? Good girls (or boys) always end up with someone bad for them. Right? We can call them silly, or naive, or a masochist; regardless the name, we just don't get why they would go out with him? What provokes the good guy to find love with the bad guy? What makes good-willed individuals so caught up in relationships with those they want to fix, or prove their devotion to, or prove to their partner that they are worthy of a loving, committed partner (even though they then treat this committed partner like absolute dirt)? It's a vicious cycle. And the worst part is that it is a cycle. A dynamic. And it's not all the other guy's fault.
This all seems very theoretical as I process this idea, so I'll try to make it a little more concrete. Perhaps examples will illuminate why you're in the shitty relationship you find yourself in (or trying to get out of).
Example 1 - Jack
The one who wants to fix everything, like Jack from LOST. This drive to fix everything and everyone in their path, this person seeks out partners who are broken. Not purposefully looking for the dangerous, borderline, criminal in transit, this person stumbles onto the other when in his greatest moment of need and is therefore ever connected to her. Because the other helped him out, he feels indebted to fix her while she is a pain in the ass the entire relationship (read: series), with no visible progress in her commitment to him. (If you haven't watched LOST, sorry for the assumption that you have). Not only is there indebtedness to this other in his life, he has an unquenchable thirst to help others. To fix others. This need to fix is a part of his DNA, his essence. But, this need to fix overlooks unconditional love (which is oh so essential to healthy relationships). Because he doesn't unconditionally love the others in his life (not to be confused with The Others in his life), he only wants to fix them, he misses an essential piece of being a partner himself. He fixates imperfection, allowing and thus perpetuates all his others' bad behaviors; leaving Jack only hurt and, ultimately, alone.
How many Jacks in life do you know? Those who have to fix, have to perfect, have to correct their partner before the relationship can begin? Maybe most importantly, why does Jack need to fix the others in his life? Does he need to fix others to solve himself? To feel worthy? To feel needed and validated as a person? The dynamic is real, and perpetuates the cycle in the relationship, but is a part of a relationship and not just the others' fault (no matter how much I want to blame Kate for everything that sucks on LOST).
Example 2 - Client A.
My inspiration for this blog comes from a client who chooses the "bad boy" today, because she hurt the "good guy" yesterday. I can't think of a character who exemplifies this right now, but if I do, I'll be sure to update. This client cheated on her husband years ago because she was having a hard time communicating with him following the sudden death of her father. They divorced shortly after. She now is dating a man whom she knows cheats on her, treats her poorly, talks to her disrespectfully, and shows her love and affection intermittently. She reports all of this disappointment and dissatisfaction openly to me. But has no desire to leave her partner. She knows that she is punishing herself by staying with someone like her current boyfriend. But she stays. And stays miserable. No hope of happiness or freedom. Just punishment for her past failures. She knowingly hurts herself because she knowingly hurt someone she loved . Tit for Tat. Messed up, right?
Not really, if you think about it. We all do crazy things to justify our past grievances. We all make up stories for why we tolerate the things we do in relationships. And we all feel better about our bad relationships when we equate them to "doing time" for something we did long ago.
Again, dynamic, relationship, cycle. Not singular or individual.
Example 3 - Client E.
Another inspiration for this entry comes from a client couple. The husband in this couple has cheated on his wife throughout their entire relationship. But she stays. Not because she feels guilty for a past offense (see Example 2), but because she needs the affirmation of a husband and a family. This guise of perfection is essential to her: happy family, happy job, happy home, happy husband. Her self-image and self-esteem hang squarely in the balance of her working through this travesty with her husband, together.
What makes this happen? What allows us to stay in relationships that are reprehensibly disastrous and hope for the best? To take the abuse?
Our self-image. We care about what others think about us. "Fake it 'til you make it," was a phrase on repeat to clients in a mental health unit I once worked on by my co-workers. But the frightening thing is, people do fake it and they often never make it. But they think they will. And maybe the hope is "making it" in and of itself. Maybe the hope is the goal.
... but I digress.
There are countless dynamics in relationships. These dynamics are what make a good relationship or a bad one. Not individual people.
People come to relationships from where they are at in their life. Sometimes they are able to reflect on the stuff they put up with when in a relationship; it's up to the person who puts up with this stuff to discover and uncover what and why they put up with what they do and if they are willing to continue to put up with it. It's not always "What does she see in him?" More often it's, "What does she get out of it?" We write stories about who we are because of who we are with (whether these stories are true to the outside observer).
To begin to love yourself and your partner, take time, observe, think. Figure out who you are in relationships. What role you play as a partner. What role you would like to play. What role you need your partner to play.
Then, start playing.
This all seems very theoretical as I process this idea, so I'll try to make it a little more concrete. Perhaps examples will illuminate why you're in the shitty relationship you find yourself in (or trying to get out of).
Example 1 - Jack
The one who wants to fix everything, like Jack from LOST. This drive to fix everything and everyone in their path, this person seeks out partners who are broken. Not purposefully looking for the dangerous, borderline, criminal in transit, this person stumbles onto the other when in his greatest moment of need and is therefore ever connected to her. Because the other helped him out, he feels indebted to fix her while she is a pain in the ass the entire relationship (read: series), with no visible progress in her commitment to him. (If you haven't watched LOST, sorry for the assumption that you have). Not only is there indebtedness to this other in his life, he has an unquenchable thirst to help others. To fix others. This need to fix is a part of his DNA, his essence. But, this need to fix overlooks unconditional love (which is oh so essential to healthy relationships). Because he doesn't unconditionally love the others in his life (not to be confused with The Others in his life), he only wants to fix them, he misses an essential piece of being a partner himself. He fixates imperfection, allowing and thus perpetuates all his others' bad behaviors; leaving Jack only hurt and, ultimately, alone.
How many Jacks in life do you know? Those who have to fix, have to perfect, have to correct their partner before the relationship can begin? Maybe most importantly, why does Jack need to fix the others in his life? Does he need to fix others to solve himself? To feel worthy? To feel needed and validated as a person? The dynamic is real, and perpetuates the cycle in the relationship, but is a part of a relationship and not just the others' fault (no matter how much I want to blame Kate for everything that sucks on LOST).
Example 2 - Client A.
My inspiration for this blog comes from a client who chooses the "bad boy" today, because she hurt the "good guy" yesterday. I can't think of a character who exemplifies this right now, but if I do, I'll be sure to update. This client cheated on her husband years ago because she was having a hard time communicating with him following the sudden death of her father. They divorced shortly after. She now is dating a man whom she knows cheats on her, treats her poorly, talks to her disrespectfully, and shows her love and affection intermittently. She reports all of this disappointment and dissatisfaction openly to me. But has no desire to leave her partner. She knows that she is punishing herself by staying with someone like her current boyfriend. But she stays. And stays miserable. No hope of happiness or freedom. Just punishment for her past failures. She knowingly hurts herself because she knowingly hurt someone she loved . Tit for Tat. Messed up, right?
Not really, if you think about it. We all do crazy things to justify our past grievances. We all make up stories for why we tolerate the things we do in relationships. And we all feel better about our bad relationships when we equate them to "doing time" for something we did long ago.
Again, dynamic, relationship, cycle. Not singular or individual.
Example 3 - Client E.
Another inspiration for this entry comes from a client couple. The husband in this couple has cheated on his wife throughout their entire relationship. But she stays. Not because she feels guilty for a past offense (see Example 2), but because she needs the affirmation of a husband and a family. This guise of perfection is essential to her: happy family, happy job, happy home, happy husband. Her self-image and self-esteem hang squarely in the balance of her working through this travesty with her husband, together.
What makes this happen? What allows us to stay in relationships that are reprehensibly disastrous and hope for the best? To take the abuse?
Our self-image. We care about what others think about us. "Fake it 'til you make it," was a phrase on repeat to clients in a mental health unit I once worked on by my co-workers. But the frightening thing is, people do fake it and they often never make it. But they think they will. And maybe the hope is "making it" in and of itself. Maybe the hope is the goal.
... but I digress.
There are countless dynamics in relationships. These dynamics are what make a good relationship or a bad one. Not individual people.
People come to relationships from where they are at in their life. Sometimes they are able to reflect on the stuff they put up with when in a relationship; it's up to the person who puts up with this stuff to discover and uncover what and why they put up with what they do and if they are willing to continue to put up with it. It's not always "What does she see in him?" More often it's, "What does she get out of it?" We write stories about who we are because of who we are with (whether these stories are true to the outside observer).
To begin to love yourself and your partner, take time, observe, think. Figure out who you are in relationships. What role you play as a partner. What role you would like to play. What role you need your partner to play.
Then, start playing.
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