Intimacy! (with anxiety)

Image credit: Ashling Larkin

Growing up, I wasn’t a very sexual person at all, and the idea of being intimate with someone in any way made me feel sick. I avoided sexual situations at all costs, and couldn’t imagine my anxiety ever subsiding enough to let me be with someone in the moment. I spent a while wondering if my sexuality was the problem, but realised over time that actually it was my issues with myself.

When I was in my teens my anxiety was crippling. I hated the idea that I would let anyone down, and yet wanted to experience things that my friends had done years prior. I eventually had to force myself to be in sexual situations – sometimes blindly and hands grasping – in spite of my anxiety. This is not to say I did not give myself and the other person consent, or that I wasn’t ready. I was emotionally prepared and willing to be with people, but would splutter, sweat and say “SEE YA” when really I wanted to say “OK”. So a little bit of pushing myself out of my comfort zone was necessary.

Something that has continued into my adult life is that I find sex so much more comfortable when I know the person really well; and this is another aspect that anxiety made me overthink. Where were they living, what were they like and at what point in my life would I meet them? Of course, it wouldn’t make things easier if a little Anxiety Elf came out of my brain and wrote down the name and address of this person on paper. But that’s what anxiety made me think I wanted. I thought I wanted all of the mystery and spontaneity taken out of my life, so that I could plan accordingly. (Mmm, planning, how sexy.)

When having sex for the first time, even a non regularly-anxious-person has a pretty hefty dollop of anxiety delivered straight to their brain. If you’re me, you’ve spent too long thinking about the moment, analysing it over and over again. And now you’re naked (eek!), you’re exposed (ah!), and you’re about to be ultimately vulnerable with someone else. Plus, you have the added pressure of being told that this is a defining experience; one that will launch you like a naked babe into the world of ‘adulthood’ where people smoke cigars and spend all their time having sex for hours on end.

Of course, all of this is rubbish. But that, and more, was what went through my head the hours, minutes and seconds before having sex for the first time. Of course like absolutely everything in my freaking life, the act of sex was not nearly as terrifying or damaging as my brain told me it would be. With this in mind, I remember feeling huge relief that I could now willingly be intimate with someone, and never have that ‘first time’ feeling again. But thinking back now, this is also a little wrong.

Fast forward to your present life, or the life that exists away from your first sexual experience. And if you’re yet to have sex for the first time, cool! You can of course still read this and take from it whatever you will.

Meeting people in the modern world is a blog post in itself (not one for me to explore, but I’m sure a swift Google search will present you with some soul-destroying options). Having sex with someone new is pegged in media and modern culture as a blurry and charged experience, one that you do with little risk, and one that you wake up from fuelled and satisfied. I have had very little experience of this type of sex.

I thought that once the old V-Plates were thrown into the trash (along with my Believing-In-Santa-Plates and Being-a-Homeowner-Plates) that I would have this carefree and calm attitude toward sex. The truth is, I am ever-envious of my casual-sex-having friends. They seem happy and empowered, they know their limits, and what to agree/not agree to in a sexual relationship. I think it’s a wonderful aspect of life to strengthen, and I imagine it can be a very important phase of single life. I, of course, thought when I was single that I could step into the shoes of these friends with no issues. My anxiety had other plans.

Imagine you’re seeing someone new, and things are just starting to get physical. It is ignorant of us to assume that just because someone has had sex before that they will be eager to do it in any circumstance. They may well be amazing at what they like to do in bed, but still revert back to their pre-sex self when they meet someone they want to impress. They might just not want to have sex for a bit. Not only does this link in to attitudes of consent and what you read from this person, but it is also possible that your new friend has mental health issues that stop them from throwing caution to the wind more effortlessly.

Spending time with someone new can be lovely, and sharing your life with them is exhilarating; but sitting down and getting freaky might be the last thing on their mind. And that’s OK! I know that in the first stages of meeting my ex, every sexual encounter flooded my brain with nerves and I wondered if I would be good enough, or if I would find things to do that would surprise us both. Someone new presents you with a new set of hurdles – how many people have they been with? Will what I did with that person work with this person? At what point should I bring up the fact that my anxiety means sex is difficult sometimes?

Getting over sleeping with a new person for the first time is a struggle and, as always, takes communication. Above all, being intimate with someone is a two-way street, and you won’t feel satisfied and happy without talking. But what if you have been with someone for months, even years, and you still get nervous? Well – cool! In my mind sex is inherently a test of vulnerability and sensuality, and sometimes I am just not in that mood. And that’s fine! Performance anxiety can present because of work stress, home stress, body-issues – anything. I think there needs to be some wiggle room (no pun intended) when having sex with someone. If you ask me if I’m feeling anxious or weird, I might say yeah! And that’s a lovely dialogue to have with someone, and takes the pressure off.

Yaknow what? Intimacy occurs with people all around you, and toward you, all the time! It’s also valid and important to note that you are in charge of your own intimacy boundaries and tolerances for intimacy differ from person to person. If you find hugging too intimate and need someone to give you a verbal cue before they go in for one, let them know! Without letting someone know of your intimacy boundary, you’re also robbing yourself of consent, and making your anxiety worse.

I like being tactile with the people that I know very well, but I find hugging strangers very odd and awkward. If someone immediately approaches me for a hug, I will be tense and obviously put-off, but this can be changed if I admit my boundaries. If you’re curious, my favourite way to greet someone is a huge smile, a “what’s up?” and a happy wave. I rarely go in for hand-shakes as I find them forced and formal, and hugs presuppose that you’re OK with being launched into someone’s personal space. My private ring of personal space is pretty large, and I’m fine with that. Sometimes I will be meeting new people in situations where hugging and being close is necessary – as actors we get this often – however if this is the case I have the ability to grin and bare it. As long as I’m aware it’s temporary, and I can get-out quick, I’m all gravy.

My friends are some of the most intimate people I know, and beautiful moments of connection are built between us all the time. I love that I can confide in and comfort my friends, but will always be OK with letting them know when my intimacy boundary is pushed from enlightening to uncomfortable. And no – I am not talking about going from a platonic conversation with your best friend about shoes to leaning in for a strange and sexual kiss. No. I mean in conversation, in content, and in your private life. Your boundaries are valid, and so are theirs. If you’re keeping a dialogue open with people about what is or isn’t appropriate to talk about, and what’s on or off the table in sexual scenarios, you are keeping yourself safe! Anxiety will make sure that you don’t plunge head-first into anything too dangerous (thanks, Anxiety Elf…) but you have to do the rest of the work in letting yourself and the people around you know what’s OK and what’s not.

Shag all you want, hug all you want, chat all you want, but don’t let your Anxiety Elf get in the way pals.

Jess is a freelance actor, puppeteer and writer from North London. She trained in theatre at Kent University, however has been a passionate writer since she was a child, and mostly just loves to communicate, in any format possible. A voice is the most important tool you can use! Diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder at 22, she constantly struggles with the intersection between mental health and keeping yourself creative. In October she started her blog Loud Mouth Loud Mind, that she hopes will help others in their struggle, and also help herself. She is completely blown away to be featured in Fearless Femme! When not working, you’ll find her watching endless reruns of The Office US, and cuddling up to her two dogs with a cider.

Ashling is a Scotland-based comic artist, illustrator & animator. She graduated in 2016 from DJCAD with a 2:1 Bdes(Hons) in animation and has since been doing freelance work at the Dundee Comics Creative Space at Inkpot studio, while also working on her current ongoing project, a fantasy-adventure webcomic called “The Enchanted Book”.