I think I can only do this when it's 2 a.m. and my thought processes are therefore indistinguishable from those of a tipsy 6.
So earlier tonight I took a survey, part of a research project for the University of Maryland's gastroenterology group, with which I currently have a relationship. The survey was on how my illness, body image, and sexuality have been getting along, and promised up front to be delving into some fairly personal questions. Duh? I thought, to myself.
So I have Crohn's Disease. Let's just get that out of the way now so I don't have to pretend to be cagey about it anymore. It seems like every time that gets brought up, I either have to play teacher, there's an uncomfortable silence, or I discover someone else who has it and we spent the next two or three hours comparing notes and trading stories. And I always feel a bit weird no matter which one it is, because in the first case I have to explain a condition that is embarrassing enough on its own, and which is integral to who and what I am as a person. Awkward silences are weird no matter who starts it. You'd think I would openly embrace meeting someone whose experiences might parallel my own, but you'd be wrong. I don't take comfort in the fact that someone else is suffering from something I'm intimately familiar with, and the fact that they still have it means that they haven't discovered a way to get rid of it. The only thing we *could* do would be to commiserate or provide moral support, and that just rubs me in the wrong way. Because it's difficult enough to acknowledge to myself that I can't be my own pillar of strength sometimes. Because I sure as hell am not comfortable with showing my weakness to other people. And I'm never sure where I want to stand when I'm actually interacting with someone else, like how does socializing work I was raised by wolves, and that's just another stressor to throw in for fun.
Given all that, I was fairly excited to take the survey, because boy would I have some answers for them. It was a bit strange--they put the question about sexual orientation under the race category, like being gay is no different than being hispanic. And they limited most of their questions to the past month, and, haha, I haven't exactly been playing the field in the past YEAR let alone month. But I could still talk about masturbating, so that was something.
They spent most of the survey talking about sex, somewhat less time talking about my illness, and even less on body image with a couple questions in there outright pointing at depression and deeper mental health issues. I feel like they could have either expanded the survey to include a more comprehensive mental health picture, or just dropped that aspect altogether and sent it as a separate survey. From my own readings, there's a pretty solid connection between Crohn's and depression, and Crohn's and poor body image. Like, in my case, I usually think my body looks terrible, because it does. I'm not talking conventional beauty standards, or bucking the whole 'you're beautiful just the way you are' camp. I have extreme difficulty maintaining a healthy body weight, and this is reflected in the fact that I've been able to count my ribs for years. So I try and eat well and frequently in an effort to bulk up some, because I'm tired of seeing my ribs. And sometimes I exercise, because I hate being physically weak. I am not disciplined on my own to keep it up for very long--longest was a month I think, without being on a sports team or club--but I do try, and I don't regard this as a necessarily unhealthy mindset. Everything else about me already is, so it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that the way I think about me is as well. But what I mean is, I don't hate myself and think I'm worthless because I look like shit. I know why I look like shit, and it's something that I can only control to a limited degree.
No, the reasons I hate myself are entirely in my head.
So there's no point in worrying about it--just remember to keep eating, exercise, avoid food triggers, but don't overdo it. This will be a lot easier when I finally move, because I'll have access to a public park with running trails, and lots of really great restaurants. Hopefully I have a paycheck as well so I don't end up on the streets selling myself for crack (but actually, the midwest is apparently rife with the stuff).
The thing I worry about with my disease and my sex life is this: I'm bisexual, and I'm pretty flexible about dominance just on principle. Actually, I'm largely bisexual on principle, and always have been? Like, when all I knew was heterosexual relationship norms, I was all on board with that, but then I discovered that homosexuality was also a thing, and decided that gender was a stupid criterion to use to decide who I could be attracted to or be in a happy relationship with. This was, like, just as I was coming into my own sexual maturity, so I could make statements like that without sounding like I was dropping a line to get laid--it'd just sound like a stupid teenager, because that's what I was. Fortunately for me, in some respects, my stated disinterest in discriminating by gender carried over in practice, although I'm generally more strongly attracted to other men. At the very least, I'm more interested in sleeping with them, although maybe that's a consequence of having a predominantly female coterie in high school. I didn't have any guy friends I could scope chicks with, so girls to me were people you'd date, and then guys became people you'd fuck, more or less. I'm weird.
But yes, the thing I worry about: being on the receiving end during sex. Not because I find it strange or unpleasant--I don't--but because I'm worried about what my disease has done to my GI real estate. At last check, I have active inflammation, which means I have to be extra careful with my diet and be very scrupulous with my medicine, but there aren't any guarantees I won't have developed a fistula or what have you. Chronic bleeding isn't unheard of with my condition, although I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear. With enough lubrication, anal isn't a big deal on the surface, but if you're not careful you'll still bleed a bit. Now take that risk and multiply it by ten, and you have where I'm coming from (ha).
I'm worried I'll be having sex, and then I'll start bleeding and I won't be able to stop because my intestines tore open and now I'm going into septic shock, and after they operate on me (again) I'll be informed I can never have sex like that again, etc. There are a lot of things that could go wrong, and I know what most of them are. And I'd have to share this information with any potential sex partners out of self-preservation, and that's some heavy shit right there to handle. Also helps explain why I haven't been super into hunting down a partner, although the bigger cause of that is lack of acceptable options. God I hate being at home.
There's one guy right now, and I think I'm in love with him, but he's not here, and that whole issue is the topic of another late-night rant. Beyond that, there's really nobody, but again I'm moving to a city, so my dating pool will correspondingly expand.
But first I need a job. And a doctor. And possibly a therapist.
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