“My body comes with it’s own vibrate mode” Why disability is sexy

One of these things is not like the others:

1. I can fit my whole fist in my mouth

2. I can lick my own nipples

3. I may collapse and start shaking uncontrollably at any moment

Of all the personal facts that might make me a total sex god, at 18 when my recurrent seizures first began I did not see my epilepsy as one. At an age when most are exploring their bodies for pleasure in dorm rooms, first apartments, and the back seats of cars; I was suddenly just trying my best to keep my body upright, conscious, and uninjured.

I didn’t exactly think of my new diagnosis as something fun and flirty to mention on a first date, so it became the dirty little secret I pushed to the back of my intimates drawer. A ticking time bomb, like the stowed vibrator at the bottom of your suitcase that will most definitely go off at airport security—my newly assigned disability always came out in the end. My medical bracelet would peek out while reaching for my glass at dinner; I’d cover my eyes on movie night anytime flashing lights appeared on screen and there would be questions; or else would crumple in to bed, convulsing aggressively, and the jig would be up.

Now nearly a decade later and my seizures have proven to be a regular force in my life, not unlike my high libido, so we’ve had to find ways of working together. Eventually I’d get in to a rhythm of bringing my seizures up to new paramours by encounter three or four, once I felt I’d gained some trust and a sense of substantial mutual interest. “Hey, so fun fact about me...” Reactions varied from curiosity to concern, nearly always understanding and asking how best to support me, but even with the most compassionate of partners I perpetually felt a twinge of discomfort or shame around the matter.

The truth was as a society we generally did not associate disability with sexuality, or heck probably even assume that the two things could co-exist in a person’s life. I saw my epilepsy diagnosis not as something propelling me in to my slut-era, but inhibiting it. Now did every aspect of ourselves have to directly feed in to our sensuality? No, of course not! I mean...at least for regular people that is, you maybe, but I was personally trying to be a smoke show 24/7 and anything inhibiting that was not going to fly with me bucko!...But what if, and hear me out here, my experience as a disabled woman has only been enriching my persona as a bomb ass skank all along? Let’s be very clear—I am not endorsing any kind of coo-coo-cachoo fetishization of disability (*most all other fetishes highly encouraged), but instead would like to dissect the overlapping skills and characteristics developed from two seemingly disconnected factions of many of our lives.

Let’s take for example something as seemingly simple as awareness of our own anatomy. When you’re living with a body that has proven itself to often be unpredictable, you tend to become pretty familiar with it’s warning signs. As someone living with epilepsy I’ve learned to recognize triggers that stress my body out, what calms it down, and identify the sensation of oncoming seizures so that I can let someone close know. It’s not a science with 100% reliability, but a tool in your toolbox. I would argue that building such awareness of your own physique is going to be your biggest asset in achieving the most satisfying sexual experience. The same deep breathing that may aid in calming my body when on the edge of a seizure, could be what helps reach my apex when on the cusp of orgasm. The comfortability I’ve built communicating my medical needs to others, could’ve partially fed in to knowing how to ask for what I need in the bedroom. It’s like the classic “put on your own oxygen mask before helping with others” instruction on airplanes; before we can even think about our partner’s needs, we need to know how our own bodies work so we can then work together to both take off.

If there’s one thing disabled folks absolutely dominate at it's adaptability. Constantly met with circumstances and environments in the wild that were not designed with them in mind, those living with disability are constantly forced to readjust in order to move forward. How could this skill therefore possibly not transfer to the bedroom? When a new partner tells you that they have a latex allergy, but you’re already prepared for this with a stockpile of latex-free condoms in anticipation of this moment, because you know how it feels to not be considered. When you have a guest sleep over who runs hot at night, but it’s not a problem because temperature is actually one of your triggers so you‘ve already mapped out ways to keep your room cooler including cracked windows, lighter blankets, and fans so you can still cuddle. When your partner has particularly sensitive balls, but the tenderness your own body occasionally needs to be treated with has informed how you might handle others. Your partner's on their period, has performance anxiety, or an avoidant attachment style—all sexual encounters are going to vary and adaptability, being game and informed on variances that may need to take place, is what’s going to lead to the most intimate and meaningful experiences.

As someone who lives with a condition that so often leaves me feeling out of control of my own body, sex has been one of the most empowering ways of reclaiming that control, partnered or solo play! Tuning in to one’s physicality to give and receive pleasure on one’s own terms and timeline—yes please! Power-play has a role in most every kink and common sexual fantasy, and the power we have over our own bodies is probably the most magical. These physical vessels we’re clomping around in may not always serve us the way we want, like when they develop a new seasonal allergy that turns you into a total snot monster, or give you raging diarrhea the day after eating spicy food even though it knows how much you love it! Heck my body has the bad habit of collapsing and furiously shaking at highly inconvenient times that I could certainly do without...but every once and a while my body, soul, holy spirit, Mother Theresa, and the Pope will come together—on my clock—and bang out 10 big O’s in a row. It’s a pretty cool factory setting, and one that makes me personally feel rather almighty.

There is nothing sexier than unequivocally owning who you are, whether that’s the hobbies you’re into, the weird ass kinks that get you off, or the fundamental needs of your body. I recently attended a number of nighttime raves, I would have previously avoided due to their intense flashing lights, and did so by wearing my sunglasses inside and leaving the room when necessary. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was the adaptation that worked for me in the moment, and multiple times I had people approach me saying how cool I looked, and even asking if I was a celebrity undercover! Little did they know my fashion choice had been made on a basis of medical practicality—but I was owning it, and looking like a freakin sex god while doing it. I mean hey, my little horndog of a body did create it’s own vibrate mode after all!

C xx