This week's newsletter comes from Looni team member Jasmine Poulton
🏰 STORY
Do you remember the first time you felt horny? I know, in my case, I was very young. And while I wouldn't equate these tingly, warm, and exciting sensations to sexual desire until much later, when I came to understand the concept of sex, the biological reaction was always there—albeit tinted with innocence. Think pillow humping, mom's lingerie catalogs, or perhaps a soap opera smooch.
As a sexually active adult, I always thought my libido was unusually high. I'd wait for the moment my boyfriend went to shower in the morning, so I could quickly give myself one, two, maybe three orgasms—something I could do alone in three minutes vs. the three hours it might take with a partner. I'd sneakily do the same thing right after sex, not because I hadn't been adequately pleased, but because I just wanted more, more, more.
Even if I knew sex wasn't likely to result in climax for me (time/skill restraints and such), I still wanted it ... all the time. Then everything changed—my libido left me.
The total loss of my sex drive was a sudden one, but there was a multitude of factors that gradually accumulated in the lead-up to its disappearance: An abnormal pap smear when I was about 24 required the removal of some risky cervical tissue in a Loop Electrosurgical Excision Procedure (LEEP), which left me banned from intercourse and bleeding for a couple of months. This also led to my referral to my fourth gynecologist, who would finally diagnose me with endometriosis after years of symptoms and medical gaslighting.
It wasn't long after this that I developed a stubborn case of BV (bacterial vaginosis), and the failure of treatments provided by doctors caused a real knock to my sexual confidence; it lingered for months—my main symptom being a fishy-smelling discharge, something I had never before known to emit from my body. My partner at the time wasn't phased, but I was embarrassed. I think this was the first time I started to dread him coming on to me. Not because I didn't want to have sex but because I didn't feel sexy.
Not long after I got rid of the BV with alternative methods, I began suffering from chronic yeast infections, yet another blow to my once enthusiastic sex drive. This, coupled with my worsening endometriosis and fibroids—which would cause me pain and bleeding during and after sex—and a hormonal imbalance that caused irregular bleeding throughout the month, slowly took away the spontaneity and liberty of intimacy with a partner.
I grew resentful of my own body, riddled with shame and frustration at all the ways in which she was letting me down, no matter how hard I tried to support her.
Despite all of this, the fire still burned within me, perhaps just much more privately. What I mean is I still masturbated (a lot), okay.
Cut to late 2021. It had already been a rough few years for us all. I had just gone through a painful breakup that finally broke the spirit of the adamant hopeless romantic within me. I tried dating again—men and women—but faced disappointment after disappointment. The thing I was sure would never happen to me finally did: I became jaded. I swore off love. "Never again! I'm done. From now on, it's just my dogs and me!" To make this all the more fun, the world as we knew it felt (still does) like it was falling apart before my eyes. Cue existential crisis.
[🎼Dun, dun, dun 🎶. End of Part One]
Want to share your thoughts on this or connect with others about their experience with libido and everything else menstruation? Stop into Looni's home on Geneva
🎵 SOUNDS
🩺 SCIENCE AND SPIRIT 👁️
🧑⚕️ from Looni’s medical adviser, Dr. Stephanie Colantonio
Humans are sexual beings. It is a part of our makeup, and it starts at a young age with exploring our bodies. When I previously worked as a pediatrician, it was common for parents to nervously confide in me that their toddler was scissoring or playing with their private parts. I reassured them this is totally normal.
If you take away nothing else from this piece, I hope you leave with the reassurance that, yes, wherever you are in this very moment with your sexuality, you are normal too.
Sexuality is a part of who we are, but that doesn't mean that it is a constant, uniformly expressed, or experienced thing. Our sex drive (or libido) can fluctuate depending on the phase of our menstrual cycle, illnesses, infections, life events, shifts in relationships, and so much more—just as Jasmine so beautifully shared.
Sex educator and researcher Emily Nagoski, Ph.D., discusses how we all have different sexual temperaments or personalities in her book Come as You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life. Everyone's brain has sexual "accelerators" that respond to anything we associate with sexual arousal—what turns us on. Our brains also have sexual "brakes" that respond to potential threats, like physical or emotional stressors. Each person's accelerators and brakes have different sensitivities. For example, someone with highly sensitive accelerators and not-so-sensitive brakes is going to be turned on quite easily.
The point is that we're all different. No temperament is good or bad. And these traits are not innate; we learn them through experience. Understanding our own accelerators and brakes can support our sexual experiences with our partners and ourselves.
Nagoski also points out the important impact of context on our brakes and accelerators. Setting, relationship characteristics, life circumstances, and play or fantasy all contribute to our perception of something as a turn-on or turn-off. For me, this again speaks to the fluidity and complexity of sexuality. It's always changing!
The final bit I'll share from Come as You Are is what Nagoski calls the ultimate sex-positive context: confidence and joy.
"Confidence is knowing what is true about your body, mind, sexuality, and life…
Joy is loving what is true about your body, mind, sexuality, and life."
I just love this.
To know our truth, she discusses examining experience versus expectation. Your expectations of sex are like a map - a map based on media, society, family, culture, and so on. Your actual sexual experience is the terrain. There's nothing wrong with the land just because the map doesn't always match it! We can learn to create maps that better represent our experiences.
To love our truth, she refers to practicing nonjudgement. Releasing how you think you should be and accepting where you are, plays a big role in the joy of sex*.* As a mindfulness student and teacher, this makes so much sense to me, but it is certainly easier said than done. It takes practice and sometimes a little extra support.
There is SO much more we could discuss about libido and sexuality. This is a great starting point; more to come here …
🪄 SOOTHE 🔮
If any of this intrigues you, please give yourself the gift of Emily Nagoski's book Come As You Are. I'll leave you with this last gem…
"Pleasure is a gateway to accessing your fullest, truest personhood. Pleasure is where you find a no-holds-barred connection with yourself and with those you love most. Why? Because pleasure only happens in a context where your brain feels safe enough to be completely entirely you, without shame or social performance or "shoulds." Ecstasy comes to us when we leave behind everything that doesn't delight us or sparker curiosity. Ecstasy comes when we surrender to pleasure without reservation. You're allowed to like pleasure. And the first step toward that is simply to notice it with non-judgment."
Comments? Suggestions? Where Next?
We’re always happy to hear from you. Whether it’s to let us know if there’s something we can do better, share a personal or experience, or an idea for a personal story, etc. Email us at the button below.