I started this journey in 2019, and since then, I have had my heart and life shattered, I have quietly sorted out most of the pieces, put them back together, only to have my heart shattered again. Then, it felt as if the pieces had been stolen by The Pandemic.
This time, organizing the pieces will still be painful, but putting them back together will be simpler, because I know how to better organize and fit them into place, delicately and deliberately. I am in exactly the right place at every moment.
I am loved.
I am grateful.
I am wise.
I am fierce.
I am resilient.
I am empowered.
I am Enough.
I am a woman that owns my sexuality.
I am the daughter of domestic abuse.
I am a partner, and a soul mate, and a lover.
I am worthy of love and belonging.
I am a dreamer in a rigid world.
I am the woman your mother warned you about; the one that stands her ground, and the star peg in the round hole.
I am a lonely lotus.
The Woman in Black.
The Phoenix Risen.
And I am here to Fuck. Shit. Up.
So many of you have heard of this phenomenon, the female orgasm, but many of you may not have experienced one during sex and or, for some, at all. Statistically speaking, roughly 58% of women have had some type of issue with orgasms; a smaller percentage, something to the effect of 5-10% have never had an orgasm at all. Ever.
Does that shock you? It shocked me when I first heard the statistic many many years ago, mostly because I’d always heard that women were supposed to have multiple orgasms, and I’d never had sex before, so I didn’t realize how big of an impact it would be on a woman’s life.
Fast forward to being sexually active, I was pretty distressed that I had never had an orgasm during sex. I could have one during foreplay, but never during sex, and then I would have to lie to the guy I was with when he would inevitably ask, “Do you…?” I’d immediately answer “yes”, sheepishly, mind you, because, you know, that’s what I was supposed to do, right? And orgasms were just supposed to happen, right?
Eventually, I just started focusing on their needs, because I was too embarrassed to admit that I was broken, so if I just focused on them, they wouldn’t pay attention to me trying to thinking myself into an orgasm.
Then, I met him. He, and we shall call him Chad, bragged that he could usually make women have multiple orgasms. We were together for just short of 2 years, and in that time, made me feel so incredibly broken (in more ways than one, but that’s for a different day). He just couldn’t understand why he couldn’t make me have orgasms, and that I must be the problem, not him, because he could do it to other women. And god forbid I try to buy a vibrator; it sent him over the edge, and NOT in the good way.
After Chad, I began exploring things I had always wanted to try, but Chad had no interest in. I also began hanging out with people in the BDSM community. At first, I was terrified and judgemental, I will admit. I had always been taught that BDSM was bad, and that “those people” were perverts, and so, being the dumb twenties something that I was, decided to check it out anyway. I started asking questions, reading, and trying to just understand how all this stuff works.
As it turns out, most of the people in the BDSM community are really cool people who just see life a little differently than most people. The BDSM community taught me that there is nothing wrong with me, that a lot of women don’t have orgasms regularly or at all, and you just have to do what makes you feel right. They’re super into consent too (also for another day), so they also taught me that the way Chad made me feel was wrong, and that his own insecurities were the problem and not me.
I think that it the moment my vagina was like, “Oh shit, really?”, Because almost immediately afterwards, when I would have sex, I would have orgasms. I remember the first one I had without having to sacrifice my left kidney and a third of my soul for; I remember being shocked, and confused and excited, but also very confused, because like, I don’t have orgasms, okay? And then it dawned on me in my naked stupor that, indeed, I had orgasmed and it was fucking phenomenal.
So kids, let’s have a re-cap of what we’ve learned so far: If you haven’t had an orgasm in a long time, you’re not broken! If you didn’t have one yesterday because you were thinking about all of the things you have to do before you die, also not broken. If you have never had one ever, there could very well be a medical condition (I know we didn’t discuss it yet, but just bare with me), but you’re still not broken. Most importantly, though, if someone is shaming you because you can’t have one, they’re a fucking ass hole, and you can tell them I said it too. Come at me bitch.
Now with all of that being said, according to the DSM-5, the diagnostics manual for mental health people, issues with orgasms is called Female Orgasmic Disorder. Yes it is a real thing, it’s like on Google, okay?
Now just to note, I am not a licensed therapist, so I cannot give you advice or diagnose you, nor is this a guide on how to diagnose yourself, it is simply a place for you to start your search. Don’t sue me because I don’t have any money any way.
According to the DSM-V, in order to be officially be diagnosed with FOD, you must meet the certain criteria:
– Happens 75%-100% of time
-Marked delay in orgasm
-Marked reduced intensity of orgasm
-Reduced # of orgasms
-Last at least 6 months
– Must cause distress
-Not better explained by relationship problems, medical problems, etc.
Do any of these sound like you? If so, do something about it now. Like right now. I can wait, but come back, okay?
First of all, anxiety is one of the main perpetrators of sexual dysfunction for all genders. If you’re too busy thinking about willing yourself to have an orgasm during sex or foreplay (guilty as charged), you start to feel hopeless about your vagina’s hatred of your pleasure. Stop thinking so much damnit! Start focusing on the task at hand and just enjoy the sex. Oh, and I’m pretty sure that if he has his penis in your vagina, he’s probably not worried about your boobs being lopsided during sex (note to self).
Also, if you are reading this and you are the victim/survivor of sexual assault, you are not alone and none of this is your fault. It is extremely common for people of all genders to have sexual dysfunction after an incident like that. Take your time and learn to listen to your needs and desires.
Next, are you on birth control or hormone replacements? Or have you noticed weird shit going on with your hormones? If so, you might have just won yourself a trip to the OBGYN, which is the worst prize trip ever, but it could change your sex game up. Hormones can be ass holes and will mess with your sex drive and ability to have an orgasm. They will also make you feel like you’re crazy for not having them. So let’s make hormonal issues not a thing, kay?
Also, are you telling you partner(s)? One of the best things you can do for yourself is have an open conversation with your partner(s). They might not know that you’re struggling, or they know that you’re struggling, but could think that they’re the problem. It’s easy to manifest explanations to problems in our brains because that’s what it’s good at, and sometimes, it too can be an ass hole. You may be able to work through it with them together. A very good friend of mine, we shall call her Veronica, hadn’t had an orgasm at all in something like 6 years. She and I talked about it, then she talked about it with her husband, and now she can actually experience an orgasm and her marriage has become stronger as a result.
You can also go to a sex therapist. While couples counselors are awesome, sex therapists have special training in sexual issues. They often tend to have a lot of couples come to them, but they also see individuals. Most (I hope) will come from a non-judgemental place and can guide you through the process of your struggles.
I hope reading this brought some enlightenment into your life and I hope that together we can break the shame and stigma of talking about female sexuality. Let’s make talking about orgasms at the dinner table okay, because I can guarantee that if there were more orgasms in the world, people would have less time to be stupid. Win win.
#maketheworldabetterplaceoneorgasmatatime #noticemebrenebrown #comeatme
My name is Emily Autumn. As of writing this, I am 29 years old, and depending on who you ask in 10 years, I might still be 29. I am currently a human struggling to keep my head above water on bad days and scraping by on the good days. I say intentionally because I am working on getting through my
mid-life crisis “spiritual awakening”. I’m hoping that if I say that phrase enough times that I’ll feel more inclined to believe it.
My life has been very complicated since I was born. I was born to a non-practicing Mormon mother with a big mouth and a non-practicing Muslim father, with an even bigger temper. They both experienced and witnessed a lot of abuse and other horrible events that brought them to each other and it was volatile from the start. And then I came along and we lived happily ever after. lol jk.
In a lot of ways, I had an ideal childhood: two parents that loved me and doted on me, we lived in an okay house in an okay neighborhood, I had really rad birthday parties and we took vacations to Disneyland (not World, there’s a difference) and Turkey. I went to an okay school where my mom was a room mother and my class always had the most elaborate parties for all of the holidays. I was even a girl scout and got to go camping and sell cookies and my mom was one of the den mothers. On the outside, we looked like a relatively normal, middle class family.
I lived a privileged life in a lot of ways, but the inner turmoil of my parents marriage, and subsequent divorce was a hefty price to pay for all of the glamorous things that I grew up with.
As it turns out, the old expression “All that glitters is not gold” was a very appropriate statement for my family. Behind the scenes, there was tension, anger, an eating disorder, verbal abuse and many attempts at physical abuse.
My father came from a very abusive family. My mother came was the product of an affair that my grandmother didn’t know she was having, and when my biological grandfather left her, she turned to alcohol. My mother grew up in a very unstable home and was sent to live with an angel for awhile, but we just called her Meme. My dad worked hard to make a living for my mom and I, and that’s what my mother needed: stability.
I grew up “the perfect child”; my mother made sure of it, no matter how she had to get me there. I had the perfectly styled hair, perfectly cute outfits with accessories to match, perfect play dates, perfect reading, perfect writing, and most importantly, I was to behave perfectly. It was all peachy and perfect (put lots of emphasis on those P’s).
So now, as an adult, I’ve realized that my early life how fucked up things really were in my house as an adult. I remember walking into the living room in the middle of the night to my parents fighting, and my mother threw a phone at my dad. I don’t remember this, but I allegedly walked in on my father raising his hand to my mom like he was going to slap her, and when he saw me, he pulled his hand away.
I also remember feeling like I had to walk on egg shells or else face the corner or face the hand to my bottom. I remember not emptying the trash can and my mother walking in and saying that she was disappointed in me and that she didn’t want to speak to me for awhile.
And I remember feeling unappreciated and unvalued by both of my parents sometimes.
So what’s the point of telling you all of this? You’re probably thinking, “Bitch, I thought this was a sex blog. Where’s the juicy shit?” Well unfortunately, before we can get to the good shit, we have to wade through the bad shit: the deep pit of shame of just being alive sometimes, or the struggle to just put one foot in front of the other to make it through the day. I promise that the good, juicy shit is coming soon (lol coming).
So let’s regroup after all the heavy shit at the beginning and kind of start over.
Hi, my name is Emily Autumn. That is not my legal name, it is my chosen name. All of the hard experiences in my life have given me the wisdom to know that you don’t have to settle for the things you’re given, you can build your own identity from scratch. I have struggled with an eating disorder, alcohol and boys. I used to feel a deep sense of shame from my experiences because I thought that it made me broken and unlovable, but I have come to the understanding that being broken just means that you have the opportunity to replace some of the old pieces dull pieces with beautiful ones and create a stained glass window.
I am currently studying psychology at the University of Houston. I want to pursue sex therapy, but I also want to study it. I want to study the relationship between sex and shame and change the conversation; I want to empower women with their sexuality, but also teach them to be kinder to themselves. I want to teach men that it’s okay to feel emotions and that it’s okay to cry and that it’s not shameful. And I want to teach men and women how to love themselves more so that they can be better partners, better parents, better listeners and better to themselves; because in my journey, thanks to some guidance from Brene Brown ( #noticemebrenebrown #shameless ) that you can’t give people something that you don’t have, and if you can’t be kind to yourself, you can’t be kind to others.
Just to be clear, this did not happen over night. My journey started roughly 4 years ago and it’s been mostly uphill. But in those 4 years, I have learned patience, kindness and thoughtfulness along the way, so I am eternally grateful for all of the terrible things that have happened in my life.
I am confident, that together, we can work through the kinks together and learn to face the world in a more confident and thoughtful way.
Until next time, make good choices and don’t have sex or you’ll get pregnant and die (just kidding, but seriously, have safe sex).