Tears started streaming down my face, and suddenly I was bawling my eyes out.
My whole body shook with each new sob. I was full ugly crying, and decided to just let myself go there. Safe in the knowledge that Reece could hold me, and somehow aware that I needed to let this emotion out.
But let’s back up a little. Why was I so upset in the first place?
Less than 2 weeks earlier I’d had an epileptic seizure.
Reece heard a loud crash from the room next door and ran in to find me unconscious on the floor having a fit.
Many days, many tests, and many doctors later, we discovered I had a parasite in my brain. It had created a lesion on my temporal cortex and triggered a seizure.
Thankfully we caught it early. The treatment is pretty straight-forward as my case was without complications.
So I’m now in the process of working out my ‘new normal’. (Yes, all while in the larger context of the Covid-19 ‘new normal’. Crazy times.)
And here was one of the new normals that hit me right in the feels:
Lovemaking suddenly felt unsafe.
Returning to Lovemaking After a Serious Illness
Opening to lovemaking after a serious illness, traumatic incident, or while adjusting to a chronic illness is scary.
Because good lovemaking requires you to open vulnerably:
To share yourself deeply. To trust your body and let go. To relinquish control. To trust.
And when you feel like your body has betrayed you – or that you could have another medical emergency at any moment – that can all feel a bit much.
As an intimacy and relationship coach, I already knew this intellectually. But here I was, experiencing it up close and personal.
I wanted to have lovemaking. I wanted to feel close and intimate and connected.
But I was also scared to let go:
That if I gave in to the pleasure, relinquished control, or worked myself up into an orgasmic state, I might have another seizure. That I’d end up in hospital again.
How likely was that scenario?
According to most medical advice*, not very.
But that’s not the point.
The fear was there. And when it comes to having lovemaking after a serious illness, that fear needs to be dealt with.
As I leaned into that fear, I discovered some steps that helped me ease back into lovemaking.
Not all of the following 7 steps will apply to your situation. Take what fits, but most of all listen to what you need and trust your own timing.
Speak With Your Doctor
The most obvious step, and the most important.
In order to protect your health and safety, you need to know if lovemaking is risky. And/or how your medical condition and medications might affect your experience.
Ask every question you have, no matter how silly or ‘oversharing’ it might seem.
And if your doctor can’t answer your questions, or you’re not satisfied with their response, don’t be afraid of getting a second (or third) opinion. And then there’s always Dr. Google too.
Talk With Your Partner
If your partner understands how you’re feeling, they’re better equipped to support you.
They can be sensitive to your needs, and more compassionate with your struggles. It also makes it easier to ask for what you need in the moment, because you know your partner gets it.
Talk about how you’re feeling, what you’re scared of, and what you want. It can also be helpful to create safe words or shared protocols to follow.
The more confident you feel in your communication, the more confident you’ll feel to let go into the experience.
Prioritise Feeling Safe
The hardest part about having lovemaking again was how unsafe I felt in my body. And feeling safe is ESSENTIAL if you’re going to be able to let go and enjoy yourself.
For me, that started with talking to Reece about how I was feeling. But there were other things that helped me to feel safe:
Having a soft blanket around my legs and my favourite pillow under my head.
Closing the door and windows so that I felt cocooned and protected from the outside world.
Asking Reece to hold my hand and tell me that I was safe.
Music, soft lighting, scented candles – prioritise whatever gives you a feeling of safety and reassurance.
Go Solo
Sometimes getting sexual with your partner feels like too much of a leap. If that’s the case, start exploring and reconnecting with yourself alone.
Whether it’s touching your body in the shower, dancing for yourself, or a full self-pleasure session, going solo allows you to fully control the experience and go at your own pace.
Go Only as Fast as the Slowest Part
Having matchmaking after a serious illness is not a process to rush. Pushing yourself before you’re ready will only traumatise you further, and increase the fear and anxiety you’re feeling.
Going solo can be a great place to start, as can identifying the activities that feel easy, and those that feel a bit scarier.
Maybe kissing and finger play are a great starting point for you. While full penetration or oral lovemaking need to be worked up to.
Communicate your limits and take it slow.
Be Prepared for Tears
We live in a culture that sees crying as a bad thing.
One of the first things we say when someone bursts into tears is, “Don’t Cry.”
But crying is a healthy way to move and express emotion.
For me, laying on the bed post-orgasm, shaking with tears, was the best way to clear out all the emotion I felt.
I wasn’t necessarily sad. I was just feeling a lot of feels, and letting them out with tears.
Don’t be afraid to cry. Let yourself have your process. Trust that it’s an important part of the healing and recovery process.
Talk it Out Afterwards
If you’re with a partner, talk with them about your experience.
If you’re going solo, find someone who you trust that you can talk with: A friend. A therapist. A coach. A family member.
Journalling can also be extremely helpful – just make sure you’re not isolating yourself if you know you really need support.
Lovemaking after a serious illness is likely to be an ongoing process, with many facets and intricate layers. It’s important that you have someone who can hold space and support you through that.
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