Category: Chronic Sex

2019 Chat and Podcast Updates

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

a photo of a microphone with audactiy in the background and a teal overlay with white text - 2019 Chat and Podcast Updates - Chronic Sex

Over the last few months, my health has gone from ‘meh’ to ‘oh no.’ Add in a three month saga of a critically ill guinea pig and it has been a wild ride.

Now that I have a grant I’m working on in addition to freelance writing for sites like Allure (stay tuned!), I have to be more mindful of time.

I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to try to hold chat and the podcast too often… which leads to executive dysfunction on top of feeling gross. That just leads to a lot of me binging Nailed It! and daydreaming about being Nicole Byer’s best friend/make out buddy.

Anyway, it’s not necessarily that I have to slow down. I do need to readjust and manage my time better. Sometimes self-care is holding yourself accountable for things and making changes. My hope is that changing things up a bit will make it easier to keep a regular schedule for everything.

Chat

It’s been a long minute since we had chat. What I would like to do is move chat to once a month.

To keep things easy, I’m going to hold chat on the first of every month from now on. Setting a firm and unchanging date will help a lot. Reducing the frequency should help, too.

On top of that, it’ll make it easier for more people to join as some of the dates will be weekends.

Podcast

I think the Chronic Sex podcast needs to reduce in frequency, too. I don’t record sometimes because I know two weeks from now I might not be able to release a new episode.

To keep everything easy, I’m going to keep all the dates the same.

From now on, expect to participate in chat and listen to a new podcast episode on the first of every month.

That means the next chat will be on February 1st. Make sure to follow the tag #ChronicSex as times may change month to month. That’ll allow more people to participate from around the world.

If you haven’t joined chat before, check out this guide.

That also means the next podcast episode will be out on the first. You can find it on SoundCloud, Podbean, iTunes, Google Play, Spotify, and a ton of other places. Since the timing is changing, we’ll be in the third season. I think it makes it easier to manage.

Like I said, I think narrowing this stuff down will help me put out content. I stress about this stuff way too much. It isn’t that it’s not fun, but I really do treat it like the work it is.

If you miss hearing my voice more often and enjoy true crime or paranormal stuff, check out the Spooky Sconnie Podcast. It’s all about the spooky, paranormal, criminal, and just plain odd Badger State of Wisconsin.

Why talk about crippled sex?

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

rectangular photo with white background and purple line with white text on it: "why talk about crippled sex? Chronic Sex"

“To realize our sexual freedom, our goal must be to infuse the dominant sexual culture with the richness of our own experience. We must celebrate our differences from those without disabilities. We must see that our differences in appearance and function which are the sources of our degradation also contain the seeds of our sexual liberation.”

From Barbara Faye Waxman’s “It’s Time to Politicize Our Sexual Oppression” in the March/April 1991 issue of The Disability Rag

It’s often thought that we have “more important things to deal with” than sex, which is portrayed as some sort of “luxury” item for us (The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability, pg 5). More and more often, we are infantilized or put into various sexual boxes that we don’t fit in.

The fact is that chronically ill and disabled people have sex. We can be sexual in a number of ways. Our sexuality ranges from asexual to pansexual and more. We may be uninterested in sex and relationships or we may be polyamorous.

Our partners might be abled or not. Like my husband, they might struggle with knowing how to help or

We’re sexy as fuck. Like the tagline of the site says, sexuality doesn’t depend on ability.

People who aren’t in our shoes aren’t used to what we face – worse yet, they may hold on to outdated ideas about sexuality and disability. Our providers don’t understand what we’re facing. They may fear addressing our sexuality or be ill-equipped to do so. After all, 54% of medical schools in the United States and Canada provide between 3-10 hours of sex education. Out of that, most of the education provided is around fertility and basic function (though the latter only usually for cis males).

As I write this post, I’m sitting in my hotel at the Playground Conference in Toronto. My time here has been wonderful, but perhaps the most impactful thing so far has been seeing other disabled people here.

At our panel yesterday, I felt like we were leading a sermon for our siblings dealing with this ish and for partners and loved ones who wanted to learn more. We got such thoughtful questions from our fellow peeps and allies alike that it was so affirming – affirming of the work I do, how much I talk about things, the vulnerability I try to show, and so much more.

It’s enough that I struggle to put it into words.

That’s why I talk about this. Because we deserve to be heard and understood.

Chat Questions: Oct 5, 2017

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

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Our chats are usually around one hour and are held on Twitter. Start time is 8 pm Eastern – 7 Central – 6 Mountain – 5 Pacific. If you’re in another time zone, check the time zone converter. Make sure to use the hashtag #chronicsex to participate in the chat.

This week, we’re talking mental illness since it’s Mental Illness Awareness Week.

Q1: Please introduce yourself in whatever way you’re comfortable sharing

Q2: Do you have a mental illness?

  • Yes, diagnosed
  • Yes, undiagnosed
  • No
  • I don’t know

Q3: Do you know what effects your medications can have on your physical and/or mental health?

  • Yes
  • No
  • Unsure
  • I have a rare dx so it’s unresearched

Q4: Do you feel like your mental health care is being well taken care of?

  • Definitely
  • So-so
  • Not really

What we endure in childhood can contribute to (and maybe cause) both physical and mental illness: ACEs Study

While ACEs are important, they also currently leave out socioeconomic status and societal discrimination, so we’ll add those in

Q5: What ACEs do you think may have influenced your current illnesses the most?

  • Experiencing abuse/neglect
  • Poverty/food/health access
  • Systemic discrimination (racism, homomisia, etc)
  • Lack of support/isolation

Q6: What treatments have worked to help with your mental health?

  • Medications
  • Therapy
  • Pets
  • Other

Q7: What is the one thing that brings you the most comfort?

Pelvic Floor Therapy: Day 1

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

B&W photo of a person with long dark hair wrapped up in a sheet and hiding their face; white text: "Pelvic Floor Therapy: Day 1" and "Chronic Sex"

Earlier this year, I made an urgent appointment with my primary care doctor. She’s also an OB/GYN, which I love. I had a spot of seborrheic keratoses on my pubis that alarmed me. I didn’t know what it was before the appointment but, in prepping for my boudoir shoot, I found this giant mole-thing.

It was kinda scary.

While I was there, though, I also brought up something I’ve been dealing with for a few months. I will wake up with pain in my pelvic region. At times, it can be throbbing, stabbing, or spasmodic. I’ll usually need to pee, but have a hard time easing up muscles to let myself pee. Afterward, the pain is still so bad that I have to get in the fetal position and shove a pillow in my abdomen.

After an invasive and dysphoria-causing transvaginal ultrasound, everything was found to be normal. Two weeks later, I reached back out to my primary care doctor to see if pelvic therapy might help. So now, in addition to spine physical therapy for a bulging disc, I get to do pelvic floor therapy.

Yay?

First appointment

Today was my first visit with my pelvic floor therapist. She is a little older and incredibly kind. I will admit, though, that I was a little nervous about the appointment.

Not only was I dealing with anxiety around having someone manipulate my vagina, but I also wound up dealing with some bowel incontinence earlier in the day.

a view of Kirsten's legs while she's on the toilet; her black boxer briefs from Tomboyx are visiable, as is a blue Ikea rug and while/beige tiles

Apparently, I’m not allowed to eat pineapple and drink juice anymore, says my GI tract.

I was worried about how this might affect things. Would we be able to do as much? Or, the more concerning question for me, was I going to just let loose everywhere?

Thankfully, I did not!

The first part of the appointment was spent talking about these spasms – when they happen, what might bring them on, etc. I mentioned my puzzling neurological stuff in addition to some rough abuse stuff I’ve been through.

It wasn’t exactly the easiest way to start a doctor-patient relationship.

Next, though, she pulled out a pelvis model and we talked through anatomy around the pelvic floor muscles.

pelvis model; the hip bones are visible along with the muscles that create the vaginal outside and the uterus poking out the top

Aside from the uterus popping out the top there, this is how a female pelvis looks. The hip bones are seen here in white with muscles in red. If you look closely, you can make out the urethra and vagina, too. One thing I always struggled to visualize was the different layers of muscles. This model comes apart so you can see the pelvic floor muscles both on the outside and inside.

The exam

It was really helpful to have a model to talk about the anatomy, but also for her to demonstrate what she was going to do with the exam.

The exam itself wasn’t horrible. I’m used to seeing my primary care doctor (who is also an OB/GYN) though, where I don’t have to make eye contact. That part got a little funky.

For those of you who haven’t had this type of therapy, the first thing is to switch from shorts to a hospital gown and lay on an exam table with a sheet over yourself. Next, the therapist feels around the outside of your pelvis – really, the outside of the labia and where it connects with your legs.

The exam moves to the inside, with the therapist using their fingers to check the muscles out. During different stages, they might ask you to clench or bulge/push out. This helps them to test the strength of your muscles.

My initial concern was that I might have loose muscles, but it’s the opposite! One thing we noticed quickly was that the left side of my pelvic floor was very tight. We then found the same at the bottom of my pelvic floor.

This isn’t super surprising. I tend to be tense in general. My left side is also the worst with every single health issue I have.

The treatment

For now, the first thing to do is start an at-home exercise. I mean, this is PT after all!

The one we decided to focus on for now is the submax:

This exercise is fitting for patients with pelvic floor tension or elevated baseline at rest. Begin at rest, contract your pelvic floor muscles gently, 70-80% effort. Hold the contraction for 5 seconds, then relax and release all tension for 5-10 seconds.

I am supposed to be mindful of my pelvic muscles, too. It’s easy to hold tension in pelvic muscles. Stress – ya know, like from begging Congress to not kill you – just makes that worse. Dealing with weakness in muscles can make them get tense trying to do their job, too.

There are some exercises that can help with pelvic floor tension as well. Right now, we’re avoiding those since I’ve got this bulging disc, but we will build up to them.

I’ll be seeing my pelvic floor therapist weekly before moving to biweekly. I’ll be documenting how things go here, too, because we need more resources on all this.

Have you ever tried pelvic floor therapy? What did you think?

Flogging Ended My Year-Long Fibro Flare #KinkySexTips

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

a photo of a flogger (mixed medium of fluffy pink-purple and black leather) curled up against a grey couch; text "Flogging Ended My Year-Long Fibro Flare #KinkySexTips"

I’ve always been intrigued by BDSM and kink. I recently wrote a post about how the scene can bring useful things to anyone, especially in illness spaces. Naturally, when I attended the University of Guelph Sexuality Conference back in June, I hung out in their BDSM exploratorium.

The exploratorium was a very safe and respectful space, open to newbies and advanced kinksters to learn more about various kinds of play. It was great to be able to test out things, figure out what I was interested in, and talk with others about how my chronic pain might change things up.

I tried low-temp wax play and decided it wasn’t for me. Next, I had the same reaction with electrical play/e-stim, though I think that’s because of how much I utilize my TENS unit. I watched some rope play and hands-only impact play (punching, spanking, etc). Both were interesting to observe and I definitely want to do more with rope play in the future.

One station was set up for sensation play. It was so interesting. Scratchy, soft, leather, rough, hard, hands – we played with a wide variety of sensations on my forearms. Aside from being pleasurable, it was cool to be so present in my body for a positive reason.

The station I enjoyed the most was set up for impact play using instruments like floggers and paddles. My first go in the room, I spent time watching and observing. The second time, though, I offered to be a tester.

I got hit with a paddle, whip, flogger, and canes. During the negotiation process, I agreed to be hit just about anywhere, but the focus was on my back, butt, hips, and thighs. I had a few good bruises that lasted for a few weeks.

At one point, the person flogging me heard me go “Oooh!” My favorite thing is that they checked in, as did others watching, to make sure that was a good reaction – and it was.

After the event was over, I noticed that my pain was gone. I figured it would come back later in the day… but it didn’t. Now, I live with chronic pain, so it’s not that I was completely pain-free. However, the pain in my shoulders and neck was gone. It stayed that way for about a week despite a 15-hour drive back home.

Even after, though, my fibromyalgia pain was gone. I had been dealing with a fibro flare up for around a year – probably more – and it was finally gone. My rheumatologist and I had tried a bunch of stuff to get it to leave, but everything was basically a temporary solution.

Kirsten (short dark hair and black top) looks at a poster in a doctor office of the human anatomy/muscular system

Hell, even acupuncture – which worked at first – had lost efficacy.

It’s been just over two months since then. Despite the fact that I’m struggling to get adequate pain control and medical care for other things, my fibro is still cleared up. I have moments where it acts up more, but without a full flare – and mostly without the allodynia that was taking over my life.

I mentioned it to my rheumatologist at our latest appointment and she was ecstatic. When I told her how, she was really intrigued. We believe that, somehow, the BDSM play helped to rejigger the pain messages my body was sending. Researchers believe that mixed up pain signals are what fibro essentially is, after all.

In fact, ORCHIDS is going to do some research on BDSM and chronic pain to see what we can find! Stay tuned!

I can’t say that this will work for other people. What I can say is that I wish I had tried it a lot sooner instead of dealing with untreated pain.

If you’re interested in exploring BDSM tools more, I highly suggest checking out the collection Peepshow Toys has. SheVibe has some great stuff, too. In addition to being affiliates of ours, their shops are also just amazing.

This post is a part of the Kinky Sex Tips Blogfest ’17 run by Mona Darling. Mona is a former dominatrix who does sexual coaching for women. Make sure you check out her site because she’s running an amazing giveaway associated with these posts right now that includes coaching and great gifts!

a black-outlined square picture with white background features colorful icons in a circle that one would associate with kinky sex (floggers, masks, handcuffs, toys, etc) with a black outlined box just below middle-right of circle with black text "Kinky sex tips blogfest 2017"

What BDSM Can Teach The Chronic Illness Community

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

beige block on left side of square and right side has a photo of a feminine person with a black mask over their eyes and they are sticking their left pointer finger in their mouth, showing off their tongue and simple band on ring finger; on left, beige text in various black text boxes: "What BDSM Can Teach The Chronic Illness Community"; black text at middle "chronic sex"

BDSM (Bondage/Discipline and Dominance/Submission and Sadism/Masochism) winds up being very misunderstood.

People who don’t quite understand the whole scene think all sorts of things about those who are into it – it involves abuse, etc. Even health care professionals don’t get it, except some really great ones.

One of the things that many don’t know is how central consent is to the scene.

A LOT of conversation happens around these issues. People discuss sensations, actions, inactions, words, and more. Aftercare, which I’ll touch on later, is also discussed. These negotiations can take a few hours or a few minutes, depending on familiarity with each other, the scene, and other factors. It’s almost always longer when people first start playing together, though.

Checklists to go over what might be on your yes/no/maybe list are plenty and you can check out an example here.

Code words

Code words or safe words are something people usually know about BDSM. A safe word is a way to stop a scene/playtime. This can have varying stages, which is why I’ve written code words here.

You have words that can completely stop and mean we move right to aftercare. You may have words that ask for things to stop and for a check-in. You might also have words that signal you’re having a damn good time. It all depends on the negotiation process and those involved.

I use code words/phrases all the time. In fact, a lot of us do but don’t always call them that. We may say we are out of some unit of energy or running low on battery. When I was able to hike, the hubs and I came up with a term that would signal I needed to turn back. Since we’re history nerds, we used ‘bingo fuel’ which was the point where pilots only had enough fuel to get back to base and needed to turn around.

Even something as simple as saying “It needs to be a pizza night because I can’t cook right now” can be a code phrase.

Aftercare

BDSM can be very emotional, not unlike how some of the chronic illness/disability sexual experiences. Aftercare is a must.

It looks different for everyone but can include treating potential wounds, tea, snuggling, a check-in call the next day, and more.

Interested in learning more?

If you would like to explore what kinks may be right for you, you can take this test or check out the checklist I mentioned above. Before you get into the scene, you may want to check in with education-based sex shops in your area to see if they know of any events or classes. You can create an account on Fetlife to see what might be happening in your area as well.

I highly suggest reading more about BDSM before you get involved, though. It can be really great. Additionally, you may want to visit Lady Sophia, a dominatrix and sex educator in Chicago, who offers classes on various aspects of BDSM.

Dark background with a photo of a person laying down holding their legs at the knees; legs are crossed obstructing the view of the bum; white text states "chronic sex" and below "Am I *really* trans instead of cis? A discussion of my journey with gender identity"

Am I *really* trans instead of cis?

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

TW: sexual assault/abuse, gender dysphoria. This originally appeared on our Medium page.

I have struggled with my gender for all of my life.

[1998–2000ish: Kirsten on a Ferris Wheel during a sunny day, holding the pole in the middle; she has long hair blowing in her face, round John Lennon-eque glasses, a striped white/blue/green shirt, and she is smiling]

As a pre-teen, I was very much a tomboy and began to wonder what I would look like as a male. I would dress up in my uncle’s clothing to see how I would look.

TBH, I was really fucking cute.

In high school, I learned to use my body for sexual attention. I got into clothing that showed off a lot of my body. Still, during any given school week, I would wear more tomboy-esque clothing two days and very feminine clothing two days. The remaining day was probably spent wearing my PJs to school if it wasn’t one of those two options.

[2005, high school senior picture: Kirsten sits on a stone bench with white pants and a teal/dark blue striped collared shirt; she is looking up towards the camera while smiling; she has long hair that goes from dark brown to blondeish at the ends]

When I was in college, I finally told my mother about some sexual abuse I had gone through years earlier. During that conversation, I brought up that I felt like a man trapped in a woman’s body often.

“Don’t you ever say that to me, ever again.”

Just in case you needed more proof of my family’s conservativeness, Ted Cruz and my mother follow each other on Twitter.

[2006/2007, Freshman in college: Kirsten is taking a selfie; she is wearing a white button up dress shirt with a grey waistcoat and white lacy bra; she has short dark hair and is standing in front of a dark blue wall with an abstract art poster]

It was really hard to share both of those things with my mother. When I came out as bi/pan on social media, she assumed it was because of my abuse and literally never talked to me about it. I never officially ‘came out’ to her about anything.

I never felt like I fully wanted to be a man, so I really didn’t bring it up to anyone again.

As I started learning more about gender identities and was exposed to them — thanks, Queer Ghost Hunters! — I realized I was genderqueer or genderfluid. I had fellow sex educators recognize this without it being verbally communicated and have had others pick up on this as well. When I began explaining my gender identity with these terms, people were fairly accepting. Overall, it was handled pretty well.

[2016: a photo of Kirsten holding her right arm up in front of her mouth with her hand in a fist, back of the hand facing out with the words “Weird Queer Fat” written on it in black sharpie; a rainbow bracelet is on her wrist; she is making a neutral, though kind of sad, face with her blue eyes staring out piercingly; she has on a grey tee and has dark brownish purpleish hair spiked into a faux hawk]

Like many people who are not cisgender, I face gender dysphoria. One of the biggest things that has helped me are videos from Chase. This one, on gender dysphoria, is one I especially like:

Chase documents criteria for a dysphoria diagnosis in adults (need 2/6):

  • Difference between assigned and expressed gender
  • Want to get rid of primary/secondary sex characteristics
  • Want primary/secondary sex characteristics of other gender
  • Want to be other gender
  • Want to be treated as other gender
  • Feel as though you have the typical feels/reactions of other gender

What’s interesting to me about this is I often wonder if I’m really and truly non-cis or if I’m somehow making things up. This is, no doubt, a result of being raised in a household full of abuse and gaslighting. I try to gaslight myself about what my experiences are, who I’m attracted to, and what I want to do with my life. Why would my gender identity be any different, right?

Do I really want to be male? Do I want to be treated as male? Do I act male? I don’t know.

After all, there are plenty of times when I can embrace my femme side.

[2017: color pic of Kirsten laying down tangled in sheets (which cover the good bits) on a white bed with short red hair; pic is taken from end of the bed so K is upside down, legs crossed and bent at the knees, right hand on sheet on chest, and left hand up beside her head; she’s smiling/laughing]

Being genderfluid doesn’t necessarily mean that I would do away with femme features for more non-binary ones. Sure, that’s part of why my hair is short. How I express my gender changes daily — and can change from moment to moment. In those respects, not much has changed since high school or college. The biggest thing is that I am finally embracing being a member of the LGBTQQIA+ community — and that winds up making me unapologetically queer.

You know, in addition to being unapologetically disabled and super justice/rights oriented… which then makes me concerned for my safety in this time of Cheeto-encrusted fascism.

I am certainly not cisgender and that’s permanent. With things changing for me all the time — especially how I feel about my body from an illness/disability perspective — I don’t feel like transitioning is something I can safely do or that I need to do at this point.

Some people don’t feel like that’s a valid trans identity, but it is.

[2017: pic of Kirsten from above, sitting on a dark wooden floor with white moulding and a blueish background; she has her legs bent criss-cross style, though not completely, and is looking down at/playing with her hands; she has on black jeans, a gray tee shirt with white text “Let’s talk about sex — Vibrant” and her white Converse are visible; her hair is reddish-purpleish]

I don’t know what the answer is to my struggles with my gender identity. Some days, I want shaved legs. Other days, having smooth legs just contributes to the dysphoria and anxiety I feel about not feel like I own my body (more than when my body causes itself pain and harm).

For right now, trans and genderfluid both fit me well. And that’s enough.

Why I Don’t Fawn Over My Husband

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

a photo of two people (one male one female) on their wedding day laughing with a cut out design on the front; "Why I Don't Fawn Over My Husband" in green and "chronic sex" in white underneath that (bottom-right)

On my personal site, Not Standing Still’s Disease, I call my husband ‘T.’ If you see it here, that’s why.

I haven’t talked about my marriage as much on here as I have elsewhere.

In September, we’ll have been together for a whole decade… which is a little daunting to think about. It feels like longer and shorter at the same time. Sometimes I forget if it was him or someone else I went to events with.

an off-center photo of two people kissing; the main person is wearing a white tee with red text on it and has shorter dark hair; the person on the right is wearing a green shirt with five o'clock shadow and glasses barely visible

When I met him, I was pretty sure we’d get married. After the last few relationships I had, I knew I wanted to disclose my chronic health issues early on. I’d been led on by a few guys who claimed they wanted a long-term relationship but only wanted sex.

I mean, I was 19 so sex was totally fine with me! Mostly I was tired of the deceiving part.

T and I got frozen custard and I mentioned that I had “this arthritis thing.” The way I phrased it really helped him to not catastrophize it. Then again, that’s when I didn’t have medical care and wasn’t diagnosed with most of my other health things.

I interviewed T in 2012 for NSSD. Check it out here. Ironically, that was also the first year I started talking about how arthritis crud affected our sex life.

It’s no secret that my health fun has been hard. It seems like it keeps getting worse, like now when I’m dealing with undiagnosed stuff. T’s still supportive and as helpful as ever. He still takes a lot in stride, holding back a lot of stuff he should probably tell me (like how my lack of vacuuming bugs him, etc.). Add to that how us both being on antidepressants has killed our mutual sex life and… well, you figure out quickly why I review sex toys.

Still, he’s my penguin.

two white people are seen hugging/leaning on each other from behind while sitting next to each other; the male on the left has a plaid shirt and brown hair; the female on the right has a white shirt and reddish hair; trees and foliage are in front of them

I see a lot of disabled or chronically ill people who overly praise their partners. That’s something I felt pushed to do in the beginning when I knew no other 20-year-old would put up with massaging my knees. Now that we’re on either side of thirty and both well-versed in social justice, I don’t feel that way.

Don’t get me wrong – he’s awesome. Our relationship is good. Things – including my illnesses – are stable and at least semi-predictable. We’ve gotten into a rhythm that works for us, have both gotten better at communication (after a number of stumbles on my part), and I know how to read him pretty well.

The thing is… praising him for sticking with me when I’m so fucking ill just perpetuates the myth that those of us with health crap are horrible choices for partners. I won’t fall into the ableism trap that is more-abled-partner worship.

Mountain photo with the following overlaid in white text: "Ableism: THE SYSTEMATIC OPPRESSION OF DISABLED AND CHRONICALLY ILL PEOPLE THROUGH LANGUAGE, ACTIONS, AND OTHER FACTORS" and "Chronic Sex" at the bottom-middle

People fall into this trap a lot. It’s easy to do, given messages we receive about our worth as people who are chronically ill or disabled. It’s assumed that our lives aren’t worth living or that we should be somehow pitied because of our existence. When we worship our partners for ‘putting up’ with us, it just reinforces those ideas.

The world is full of assholes who don’t see disabled people as people. They don’t think living our struggles with us is a worthy journey. That doesn’t mean we should sanctify the non-assholes, though, for being decent people. The reality is that we all have different needs in relationships, whether that’s related to a disability, past experiences, abuse, or a variety of other factors.

Like any person, disabled or not, we all have positive and negative attributes. When you’re a partner, though, you work together and can help to balance each other out.

Sure, there will be more time spent at doctor appointments or sitting in waiting rooms while I get MRI after MRI than there would be while dating an abled partner. There will be more frustrations with health, the medical system, and other forms of systematic oppression. Politics will start mattering to you even more, especially attacks on health care rights… which means you’ll be groggily going to work after staying up until 2 in the morning watching C-SPAN.

That said, I can provide a lot more empathy than the average partner. I’m pretty good at working around things I can’t do, whether that’s sexy or not. You’ll get to help go through pictures of me that are sexy for the sake of being sexy. You’ll always have someone who goes with you to doctor appointments and can advocate for you, there or calling to order pizza.

Just because some parts of our lives are harder because I’m disabled doesn’t mean I’m not a badass partner – or that I should feel crummy for being sick. Without that power difference, there’s really no need to put T on a pedestal. I can still appreciate the neck rubs and late night conversations without deifying T for ‘putting up’ with my illnesses.

B&W pic with white text at bottom 'My Boudoir Shoot' 'chronic sex' - pic is of Kirsten silhouetted with a black leather skirt and dark bra on arching her back in a chair against a lit window background

My Boudoir Shoot

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

Earlier this year, I was struggling with my body. My gender dysphoria is pretty rough lately. As a genderfluid person, sometimes I really dislike the feminine parts of my body. They seem to get in the way a lot.

I booked a boudoir session with Studio M Boudoir {autoplay music & slideshow in link} using a Groupon.

In the weeks before the shoot, I honestly thought of canceling and trying to reschedule. I’m really glad I stuck with it, though.

On the day of, I was excited, but not as much as I felt like I should be. I was crunched for time and nervous as all get out. Once I got to the studio, though, Melissa made me feel so at home.

I mean, it helped that she checked out this site, too. We talked about shared interests and job stuff both before and after the shoot. It was seriously a lovely time.

Here are some of my favorite pics from the shoot:

B&W pic of Kirsten silhouetted with a black leather skirt and dark bra on arching her back in a chair against a lit window background

B&W: kirsten on her stomach on a bed; she has on a dark bra and dark panties but with a blue plaid shirt on; her right arm props up her head while she smiles, left leg is extended out, and right leg is up in the air

B&W pic of kirsten from above; her dark bra is showing and her plaid shirt is falling off her as she is on her back; her right arm is under her chest as though she's hugging herself; left hand is on her left leg; feet are both against the dark headboard

color pic of kirsten laying down tangled in sheets (which cover the good bits) on a white bed with short red hair; pic is taken from end of the bed so K is upside down, legs crossed and bent at the knees, right hand on sheet on chest, and left hand up beside her head; she's smiling/laughing

color pic of kirsten sitting on the edge of the white bed wrapped in a white sheet a la a mermaid; short red hair; pic is taken from above so K is looking upwards and smiling; the left hand pulls down some of the sheet for cleavage and the right is nearly hugging her again; left leg pokes out of sheet

color pic of kirsten sitting on the edge of the white bed wrapped in a white sheet a la a mermaid; short red hair; pic is taken from above; K is looking away white smiling and laughing with eyes closed; the left hand pulls down some of the sheet for cleavage and the right is nearly hugging her again; left leg pokes out of sheet

The others are butt pictures, and those stay here at home 🙂

Seeing these pictures now, I feel more confident in my gender identity. Some days, I may want to embrace my curves and be very feminine like Ariel (the Little Mermaid, who I seem to dress like often lately). Other days, I may hide all that under dark plaid shirts like the queer person I am.

From an illness standpoint, I’ve been dealing with a lot of pain lately. Because of that, it’s easy for me to hate parts of my body. I stop seeing them for what they are and what they bring and start seeing them for the pain they cause. On top of that, I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been and feel unhappy about that at times.

It was really nice to be reminded that these parts of me can still be beautiful, can still be useful, and that being a curvy girl isn’t a bad thing.

Should you do a boudoir shoot?

It was an incredibly affirming experience. I really lucked out with Melissa and Studio M. I did a lot of research before using them and was surprised at how awesome they were, even then!

I recognize that I have a lot of privilege in being able to have had this experience, though. Shoots and then the photos themselves can be quite expensive.

I will say that, if it’s something you can afford, it can be very healing.

Have you ever done a boudoir shoot? What did you think?

Photo of my hand, featuring my silver band with a sapphire, interlocked via pinky with T’s

What a High Pain Day Taught Me About Hiding My Illnesses

Posted on by Grayson Schultz

TW: mentions of covert incest. This first appeared on our Medium publication page in November 2016.

I have always been someone who takes care of others.

It’s something that I have had to do.

Growing up in an abusive home, I had to take care of everyone — more emotionally than physically, but both for sure. I was the emotional partner for my mother, something called Covert Incest.

Because of that, I’ve always been incredibly independent. I have never wanted anyone else to feel like they had to take care of me. That goes double for my marriage, frankly.

Part of it is that I internalized the ableism that goes along with someone marrying a chronically ill/disabled person. I mean, after all, the expectation is that the ‘well’ one has to take care of the ‘sick’ one. Between that and my independence, I have never wanted my partner to feel like he had to take care of me.

He recently had LASIK and then got a cold a few weeks later, so I’ve been used to taking care of him. It wasn’t even a thing that I was worried about. He needed care and I was here. I mean, DUH.

Lately, maybe because of being more of a caregiver, I have been better about sharing and showing how I am doing and, in turn, my partner has been incredibly understanding and helpful.

Sunday morning, I woke up with intense stomach pain at 3 AM. It was clear that I needed to use the bathroom, so I did so. I spent a while in there, crying because the stomach pain was so bad. Frankly, I was wiping as quickly as I could because I was in so much pain that I thought I would puke, too.

It was not a proud moment.

By the time I was done, 20 minutes had elapsed. My stomach was still in an incredible amount of pain, so I went to the couch instead of my bed. I didn’t want to wake T up and, besides, I wasn’t sure sleep would visit me again.

It did, eventually.

When I woke up again, I was sure that I would be in a ton of pain. I wasn’t, which was perplexing, but I wasn’t going to question it, either.

And then, it happened.

A brick wall with an overlay that says ‘fuck this pain’ and a fancy curly doodle underneath

Over the course of a short time — something under five minutes — my pain went from not-an-issue to holy-fucking-shit-why.

Everything got heavy. I was barely able to hold up my phone. My muscles felt like what I assume they would feel like if I was able to run a marathon or do the Ironman.

I couldn’t hide it.

T asked if I was tired and I explained what was going on.

“What can I do? Ice packs? Biofreeze?”

Without hesitation, he jumped in and helped with whatever I thought might be helpful. A few minutes later, he had grabbed the Biofreeze and we slathered my arms. He snagged me an NSAID, too.

I don’t care if I can’t do much with my legs, but being unable to do much with my arms is a problem.

Within probably 30–45 minutes of the onset of the pain, I was asleep.

When I woke up, the initial pain was eased. My muscles were still in an incredible amount of pain, though.

T took me to our bedroom and asked what he could rub to help. He rubbed my hands, my feet, and my knees.

I apologized to him for all of this. I’m so good at stepping in and taking care of him, he said. He figures that I know how to best take care of myself, so it’s not a thing.

“But I’m always here to help when I can.”

In that moment, I realized a lot.

As vulnerable as so many applaud me for being, I still have a long way to go. I’m not nearly as vulnerable as I pretend I am.

I try to not let others see my illness fun firsthand. When I’m feeling bad and T’s at work, I talk on social media but rest. I write about what I’m going through, but in a safe space — at home, usually alone, and usually feeling slightly better than the time period I’m writing about.

This goes double for when I am sick at home. I cancel calls or FaceTime meetings with friends. I hide the extent of my illnesses from everyone — even T.

I have to stop pretending that I’m fighting against my illnesses on my own. The reality is so far from that — I am surrounded my love and support, and nowhere else is that true than at home.

Black and white photo of a bride and groom dancing