Sexual Anorexia or Sexual Dysfunction

I'm reading a book on Sexual Anorexia, that's actually it's name, by Patrick Carnes, PhD.

I don't believe I have that because I don't have obsessive behavior. I don't spend all of my time dwelling on sex, obsessing over other people's sex lives, hold puritanical views or much of the other behaviors associated with obsession surrounding sex issues.

My issue is more a lack of libido. It's more apathy then aversion. But this book is touching on some issues that I think I will address. I know I will address them. Since I'm collating and stapling the pages of my past I might as well throw this shit in with the details.

One of the things that came up was a case study where the wife responds to the out of control behavior of her alcoholic husband by being perfect herself. Apparently her childhood also involved a father who was out of control sexually. She had an "extreme sense of responsibility and perfectionism". She was the kid who grew up responsible and did all the right things for approval while her siblings became alcoholics and out of control sexually like her father. Then she married a man with the same problems as her father.

The song "Perfect" comes to mind from Alanis Morissette. (Spell check suggested "terrorist" to correct the last name. WTF!)

I did not follow the same pattern. I married a man who was totally different. I think this had a lot to do with the work I did on myself while I was in college. I used my faith to help myself re-program my ideas of masculinity.  I specifically used the god Lugh and worked with his energy to help re-parent myself and develop an idea of what a healthy relationship with a man could be. The god became both father figure and lover-figure. It wasn't a complete process because I still hold negative attitude toward men in general but I was able to heal enough that I could imagine a real relationship. It would be a few years later that I would be able to develop a game plan for achieving what I wanted once I had an image of what that was.

But as far as similarity, based on previous posts I've made, it should be pretty obvious. I was the sane and reliable one in a house of people that were out of control. I had a few breakdowns where my emotions raged out of control, much like a jar exploding in the canner. But over all I had my shit together.  The disabling factor came with no knowing how to take responsibility for some aspects of living. I had to learn the hard way how to balance a check book, how to cook on a gas stove versus an electric stove, to remember to add soap to the dishwasher, or create a system for paying bills on time and not forgetting or losing them.
These were not things that I had been taught how to do with my parents. They were doing these things but not where I could see and not in a way I could learn.

All kids have to grow up and learn these things but my parents had no patience with mistakes while learning these things. Nor did they ever sit me down and explain a system for handling these tasks. Do it right the first time without the education or get screamed at for an hour or so when you inevitably screw up from lack of education. My first real boyfriend that I lived with mocked me as well when I made these mistakes. Ironic that he was even more helpless than I.

I react to stress by becoming intellectual and shutting off feelings. My primary philosophy really is "Work now, cry later." I tend to get stuck in the "Work Now" phase of it though. It becomes a habit of being turned off emotionally and takes great effort to get it turned back on again.


"If we are chronically angry, the anger will become sexualized."

This, I think, might have a lot to do with some of my hormonal balance issues. I know that a lot of my sex drive is due to hormones being out of balance. Estrogen can suppress other hormones or simply overwhelm those other levels when it is in excess. Fat cells produce estrogen and after giving birth a woman often experiences high levels of estrogen.  I also stress eat so this contributes to my weight. I've gained atleast 10 pounds since this ordeal with mom in the hospital and dying and the will started.  I ate a ton of carb and sugar rich foods while driving between here and there plus eating fast food while there.

The anger about the jobs and the anger about my family informs comfort food eating tendencies. This combined with stress hormones, adrenaline, and angry thoughts keep me from relaxing so I can think about other more pleasant things.

Sleep deprivation due to anxiety has been a contributing factor as well. Sleep dep can depress sexual urges. I can't sleep often because of thoughts I can't seem to turn off that in the past have given me chest pains and hypertension headaches from the rage circling in my head. I had that problem often after I left Elmira.  Other times I don't go to sleep as early as I should because of anxiety. I have trouble falling asleep without hubbie in the house. It might be anxiety about being alone and feeling unprotected.


"First, Miriam observed that we are so used to our own history, we do not see it as remarkable or out of the ordinary, whereas others might see it as horrendous. Further we tend to minimize that which we feel shameful about. . . Finally, Miriam noted, that using courtship as a path out of pain and suffering is often delusional and deceptive."

I remember when I was in grade school, around 6th grade. I had told my friend Erika about what was happening in my house. How my brother talked to me and hit and treated me. How my dad treated me and ignored me. She had even witnessed it a few times during sleep-overs. I used to like having people over, it tended to encourage my bro to leave me alone or at least watch his wording and tone. Obviously something shameful was going on to encourage a suppression of the usual behaviors. If his behavior toward me wasn't shameful, if he had felt no shame, then he would have treated me the same way no matter where and who was present.

I had asked my friend if what was going on was abuse. She gave me this look that seemed angry and surprised. "Of course it is." That was the first time I remember being conscious of coming from a household that was wrong or harmful in some way. For all that time before I thought all fathers treated their daughters like that and all brothers were aggressive toward their sisters like that. I thought it was normal.

I guess I didn't see enough of my friends with their parents to have it really register how not normal or acceptable it was.

I remember screaming at Karrie once. She had been teasing her dad about holding a grudge or not loving him anymore if he didn't give her what she wanted. In my memory it was teasing about not loving anymore. I don't know if I wrote it in a journal so I'll have to see if I can check it when I get to my high school years. I yelled at her to not ever treat her dad like that. So many of us would kill to have such a great father like him. I remember the shock on her face. I don't know what she was thinking with the outburst. I hope it was agreement and a realization of how lucky she wise, comparing how dad treated me and how loving her dad was.

"He did not have to touch you for abuse to have its impact."

I have two memories connected to this from a very early age. One was really young. I would guess around 8 years old. I was changing in my room and I still wore those white under T-shirts that little girls wore around my time, I think. I don't know if it was normal or just what mom insisted on. I was changing into clothes in my room and my bro and his friend Shane were in the house. The burst into my room laughing and yelling. I got behind the door to try to shove it shut but I wasn't strong enough against both of them, five years older than me.  They were pointing and laughing and squeezing me so hard against the wall that I couldn't breathe and the doorknob was digging into me.

I cried a lot. A few years after that I figured out how to lock the door and it gave me some relief when dad didn't get pissed and take it off its hinges. I also started changing my clothes in the closet or under the blankets, even after I learned how to lock the door. I stopped bathing since it required my going into the back of the house that was my bro's "domain". Beyond the laundry room it was a lot like his den or a separate house that neither mom nor dad would follow him into. I had a lot of skin problems, greasy hair with bleeding scalp and body odor to deal with.

Good thing around 6th grade he started staying away from home at all hours. I would have been about 11 and he would have been about 16. That's when the drugs started and he was never home. I don't know why my parents let him disappear for days.

The other memory that pops up is something that I don't remember but my cousin Matt would bring up all the time because he thought it was funny as hell. I used to get so pissed because it was embarrassing as fuck.  Apparently there was this incident, I think at the farm. Matt never really said where. My bro and some boys were talking about "pussy". I apparently dropped my pants and pointed out mine. I couldn't have been more than 6.

It makes me wonder was I just being a kid who didn't know any better or had there been some sexual abuse? Matt would have been embarrassed enough to make a joke out of it to relieve his tension over such a memory. Especially if something had happened right after that. It also makes me wonder how the hell I knew what a "pussy" was.  I was a very sheltered kid as far as sexual knowledge was concerned. I didn't know what french kissing was until I was 11.


Religious or familial puritanical beliefs around sexuality:

I was raised Jesuit Roman Catholic. One of the things that attracted me to paganism was its healthy attitude toward sex and sexuality. I remember as a kid touching myself. I don't really know when exploration became masturbation but I know I must have been able to give myself an orgasm clitorally sometime in grade school. I think this is a normal developmental age for such stuff. It progressed gradually and I never even really knew what it was that I was doing. I just liked the feel of it.

I also remember feeling a tremendous amount of guilt connected to that touching later on, after I had been doing it a while. Somehow I must have come to the realization that what I was doing was sex. It would lead to burning in hell. I would stop for a while until the fear subsided and then start up again weeks or months later.

Thoughts of kissing boys also lead to some anxiety and moments of terror at the thought of hell.

I know that I was attracted to girls at a young age. I don't think I really knew what that meant nor did I have the opportunity to see how far it would go. There was one incident where I wanted to kiss a boy and he didn't want to so he put two of his friends in my way to stop me from chasing him. They insisted I kiss them before I could kiss him. In hind sight I remember the feeling, I would kiss Amy but not Mike. I liked Amy. She was pretty. I didn't like Mike. He wasn't that cute and his personality wasn't friendly. I didn't kiss either of them and walked away.



Toxic Sexual Environment of Patriarchy. (this is not to assert that matriarchy would be any better. Only that a society where one gender has dominion over another cannot be healthy and will lead to dysfunction on multiple levels.



I remember in college when I had my first serious sexual relationship and wanted to go "all the way". We tried penetration and I had a panic attack. I remember thinking I was acting like a rape victim but as far as I could remember, I hadn't been raped. Was I dealing with a situation where I had internalized sexual abuse from seeing it in the media or hearing stories from others?  Empathic Rape Victim? Is that even possible?

I continued to have panic attacks with that boy and we eventually broke up. I went on to have serious interest in a few other boys. Each time I suffered a panic attack during our first sexual experience together. Even my hubby had to comfort me after a panic attack the first time we tried to have sex. I would eventually overcome it with a couple of the guys. Although my first sexual experience involved a panic attack that he ignored and penetrated anyway. I guess, in a way, my first time was rape. I don't remember saying no but I do remember pushing him away pretty hard.  He was the only one who didn't stop. The others all stopped and comforted me or just at least gave me my space and respected the things I told them I didn't want them to do.

I dread that journal. That would be in the big green journal, the one that's really going to be tough.