My sexuality was never really a manifestation of my anxiety, but my anxiety and learning to cope with it undoubtedly allowed for my sexual liberation.
I’ve never really felt sexual desire and I was only ever turned on by the most egregious, hyper-sexual porn. I regularly chalked it up to being too busy to even consider having a boyfriend, uninterested in “anything the male species has to offer,” and my go-to reason: being too grossed out by naked bodies and men’s lack of hygiene. But then, rather suddenly, shit hit the fan and everything shifted.
After months of grieving, intense depression, suicidality, coping with toxic relationships, and finally setting myself free from some of my longest struggles, things were genuinely starting to look up for what felt like the first time since I’d been at Vanderbilt. This is why six months into this journey of self-discovery, I wasn’t expecting one day to have a series of extreme panic attacks, a mental breakdown that lead me to quit my (career-defining) summer job, almost be hospitalized, and have that come-to-Jesus conversation with my mom about if I would continue my degree or put it on hold.
I had hit rock bottom and there was no way to go but up. I let myself recover from the emotional exhaustion of what had transpired within that 48-hour period, but once I felt an inkling of motivation to move forward, I started working out 4 to 5 times a week, listened to some hella inspiring podcasts, interviewed for an internship completely outside of the industry my job was in, and most surprisingly… downloaded Tinder. Not only did I download it, I went to town. I was swiping left and right, matching with people and then meeting up with them two days or even a mere two hours later.
I was reckless some might say, but for the first time I felt free. My anxiety and depression fueled my inability to participate in a sexual lifestyle. I realized I didn’t have the energy to pursue any hopeful, romantic thoughts and I was too anxious about the violence so many women like me have faced when they’re perceived as sexual beings, not to mention all the unresolved trauma with my body and other people interacting with it.
Once I let go of the depression and anxiety I was holding onto so tightly, I gave myself room to be more. Of course, they didn’t go away, but instead of being all-consumed, I now had the space to develop an identity outside of my mental health issues.
I got to know myself through the men I slept with. I found patterns in those who interested me most, saw insecurities I didn’t know I had creep up to the surface, and learned about all the cool things my body can do and how it could make other people feel. The good, the bad, and the ugly came to light and that’s exactly what self-discovery is.
I’ve been to countless therapy, counseling, and life coaching sessions, all of which were to find the root of my problem and work my way up from there. But now I’ve taken a top-down approach in addressing the symptoms. I’m letting myself be free enough to hang out with men, and through them I can see myself for who I truly am. Now, no anxiety or overbearing depression clouds my mind; just fun, pleasure, and hopefully a few orgasms along the way.