Ill Communication

I’ve been quiet for the last few weeks because I’ve been a bit under the weather and haven’t been up to writing much. Eagle eyed readers might notice this has happened before that ill health has kept me away from sex and blogging and they’d be quite right.

Since childhood I’ve suffered from a fluctuating chronic illness that causes pain and fatigue and often leaves me bed bound and unable to manage full time work and day to day life. In some ways it’s the greatest influence on my life and in other ways it’s so normal that I often forget to mention it.

I also can’t shake the idea that it’s just not very sexy. Sick beds and prescription painkillers aren’t the stuff of erotica for most people (you’ll note there’s very very little illness in all those naughty nurse role plays or medical fetish stuff.)

I also spend so much of my time dealing with symptoms and medical appointments etc that I enjoy having the break from that glum reality with the fun and fantasy of my sex life  and kink and often don’t care to mix them for my own sake of mind.

But sometimes I can’t help but allow the two aspects of my life to come together. After all I’ve been ill since before I hit puberty so I’ve never had sex without my illness in the mix and I’ve had to adapt my sexual style to allow for my limitations with pain and fatigue. I sometimes wonder if my submissiveness is borne out of that as it tends to be quite restful in its own way?

I hate to be seen defective in any way for being ill. I loathe when people make it obvious you are their worst nightmare with a serious chronic incurable autoimmune illness that no amount of exercise and good diet can protect you against. And I’ll leave it to the much missed Stella Young to explain why ‘inspiration porn‘ can fuck right off and then fuck off a bit more.

I’m also not fond though of being treated like a social outcast for being ill as if I’m not trying hard enough or not doing the ‘right’ things. Medicine and science haven’t worked out the human immune system yet (and interestingly 90% of research into it is on men’s immune systems despite 85% of all autoimmune disease sufferers being women) so there isn’t much the power of positive thinking will do to cure me or you getting huffy when I tell you yoga isn’t actually a valid option here.

I get it though. Society is weird about illness and even weirder about disability generally and it took me a long time to be able to use the word ‘disability’ in relation to myself because it’s always seen as such a negative, frightening thing or as a synonym for wheelchair user. I avoided using the word for fear of scaring people away or having them argue I wasn’t ‘properly’ disabled.

Under the Equality Act 2010 in the United Kingdom a disability is “if you have a physical or mental impairment that has a ‘substantial’ and ‘long-term’ negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities.” It doesn’t just mean visible disabilities or the stuff you see in the Paralympics and it’s possible for people to have the same condition and have a varying level of disability from it.

This why your Great Aunt Doris’ neighbour’s cousin was cured of the same thing by the power of prayer and a multivitamin and someone else needs to give up work because of it. People are different and many conditions also fluctuate or are progressive with age.

Which is why I’m absolutely certain no one who reads this blog would have looked at those photos of me with a butternut squash up my cunt and thought I was disabled. Being ill is pretty much the only thing that stops me being horny and even then sometimes it doesn’t completely stop me so while I’m sleeping all the time, I have orgasms during my naps.

I used to find it deeply frustrating not to be well enough to fuck all the time but now I think it might be a safety feature to protect my cunt from breaking itself from over use. My Master summed it up well recently when he said my body could be incredibly frustrating sometimes, but also capable of some quite wonderful things at the same time.

It’s quite fitting that the first man I’ve ever actually told about being ill when I met him should sum up the very nature of disability so well…

Ill Communication

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