Rediscovering sexual pleasure after being taken advantage of can be difficult. What I have gathered from the past six years is that sex is nuanced and extremely complicated.
2019 was the last year I felt “normal” about sex. Never having experienced any physical intimacy, I was your typical curious teenager.
Unfortunately, that year, I faced a long period of sexual abuse from my past partner. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss — my first everything. When you encounter what you think is love for the first time, you see everything through rose-coloured glasses.
The unsolicited pictures, touching without my consent, and the emotional manipulation used to coerce me into sex were what I thought was love. I didn’t realize what happened to me until a year after our relationship ended. The rose-coloured glasses were taken off, and the pieces started to click together.
I was assaulted.
Throughout the relationship, sex filled me with both pleasure and pain. While sex sometimes felt physically good, most times were filled with disgust, shame, and confusion.
I’m supposed to feel good, but why doesn’t this feel right? I would ask myself.
From then on, pleasure couldn’t exist without feeling wrong. For the next four years, sex followed the same custom of pleasure and pain. The same concoction of feelings I experienced with my abuser followed me into my next relationship and, most importantly, my relationship with my own body. For a period of time, I couldn’t have sex with my partner without crying, and masturbation always ended in tears.
Pleasure meant a lot of things. Pleasure was a ticket to a depressive episode. Pleasure meant feeling shame and guilt. Pleasure was a reminder of the times he took advantage of me.
It was difficult to rediscover sexual pleasure when society celebrates the sexual experiences of men yet criticizes women for doing the same. Porn was no help either. We’re shown that pleasure is male-centric and female pleasure isn’t a priority. And with much of porn presented as forced and nonconsensual, I couldn’t decipher that what happened to me was actually wrong.
From high school to now, in my third year of university, my relationship with sex was a rollercoaster. I shifted from being hyper-sexual and engaging in unwanted sex to despising sex. My hypersexuality inserted me into situations that would make me feel as I did with the person who assaulted me. Maybe it was a form of self-sabotage, but ultimately, it was an effort to reclaim what sex was before my assault.
Feeling pleasure again wasn’t a linear journey. It took attending session after session of therapy and surrounding myself with supportive people who didn’t blame me for what happened. Exploring sex and pleasure was hard and took a lot of courage. I spent a long time exploring my own body, learning what I enjoy, what I don’t like, and what triggers me.
So, have I healed?
The truth is, I’m still navigating through the world of sex and unlearning the patterns of my trauma. Even now, I’m constantly reminding myself that pleasure should go both ways and that sex should be enjoyable, safe, and consensual.
I’m lucky to now have a partner who prioritizes my pleasure and cares about how I feel. Even though it has taken me a long time, and I continue to experience ups and downs, I’m happy to be where I am in my healing today.
Rediscovering sex is a tough battle for those affected by trauma. To show your most vulnerable side and then be taken advantage of can stop you from giving yourself the love your body deserves and enjoying sex without shame.
For those who have been through sexual trauma like me and are struggling to relearn pleasure, know that you’re allowed to feel good and that you’re supposed to feel good.
If you or someone you know has been sexually assaulted, you can call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 800-656-HOPE (4673) or visit hotline.rainn.org.