As an ex-hypersexual with half-healed codependency complex and more than a few obvious recurring trauma reactions, my healing had to start at the most basic of basics, which meant rejecting sex toys. Let me explain.
Classically desensitized, disoriented and disembodied, my sex toy drawer used to be filled with all kinds of fun. I could have sex without the toys, but where would my attention go and what would keep me feeling, propelling toward orgasm? That was the goal, after all, right? Especially when the sex wasn’t particularly desired or wasn’t going “well”…
Fast forward through the beginnings of my multi-layered (and multi-year) wake-up call to the realization that, although I wasn’t afraid of it, I didn’t particularly like being with my own body. Much like any enlightened moment, I pulled a 180 degree turn to the opposite direction, turning away from all the toys, all the kink, all the things I suddenly judged as dissociative. I stuck with that mindset throughout my first few years of my own healing, and I initially brought the sentiment with me to my job as a sex educator. I was staunchly against all the things that I judged to have removed me from my body. But hey, I needed that moment of rejection. And I’m proud to have come around to the fact that, like everything delicious in life, moderation is key.
So WHEN do we pick up the vibrator versus meeting the challenge of manual labor? The short answer is: how well do you know yourself?
For those of you on a journey to reconnect with your sexuality: are you comfortable touching yourself, fingers to vulva? If your answer is yes, I’ll ask again: are you sure? We often skip over direct touch for varying unconscious reasons (“I don’t like getting messy”) and go straight to adding a barrier to the act. If this describes you, I invite you to reconsider, and take about 10 minutes experiencing yourself with direct contact, then journal about what it was you did and didn’t like about the experience.
Next: I don’t care what that vibrator company’s ad copy or that Instagram sexfluencer told you, too much vibrator use can cause desensitization. This is real. I’ve experienced it myself and I’ve seen it with my clients. If this is you: take a damned break, or try using the vibrator on different parts of your body to remind your brain that sensation can be had other places. Re-sensitize!
Lastly, it’s time to ask yourself: are your toys enhancing or distracting you from sensation? It’s okay to use toys to journey through erotic fantasy land. Just know that fantasy land is a different experience than embodied mindfulness. Make no mistake: I’m not saying that ALL SEX needs to be a meditation, but if you’re in the throes of healing your relationship to yourself, you may want to consider the truth of your relationship to your toys.
But wait!
This isn’t about throwing the baby (toys) out with the bathwater (self-healing). It’s about discernment and self-honesty. It’s about taking the time to know what you need and being open to experimenting with presence no matter what.
Does your vibrator offer you sensation that can’t be found with your fingers? Of course it does. Try taking it slow - staying present to those sensations, and allowing the vibe to give you a different experience than you’re used to - with mindfulness!
Never thought you’d be able to meditate with your vibrator, hm?
You’re welcome.
NEW! Maggie’s Podcasting!
Yes, it's finally happening!
Episodes released bi-monthly
Featuring guest conversations about radical embodiment, sexuality and feminism, (with a special emphasis on the conversations we're sometimes afraid to have).