Sex and the Sitting.

By the title alone most of you will have guessed that this entry discusses a sensitive topic, although I will not be addressing specific and explicit details at any point. This is simply another entry discussing the taboos that surround disability, which includes the doubly taboo topic of disabled people having sex. I hope that I have dealt with this topic sensitively, and do not offend any readers.

It often surprises my friends when I tell them that I am frequently asked about my sex life because of my disability, often by relative strangers, and completely unprompted. People are intrigued to know whether sex is even possible, what position I have to be in, and whether I can satisfy my partner, and it appears that people believe they are being inclusive by asking these questions. However, if the able-bodied are entitled to privacy surrounding his or her sex life, then surely this applies to the disabled too.

Society’s obsession with sex is undeniable; a small escapade into music videos or women’s magazines will prove this. Being able to discuss sex is no bad thing under appropriate circumstances and is part of free speech, but the problem arises when people misunderstand what is meant by appropriate circumstances. Discussing sex in a sex education class, or after watching films like “Fifty Shades of Grey” which revolve around sexual activity and consent, or after reading this blog entry, is appropriate. Asking someone unprompted about sex when meeting for coffee, after you’ve just met them at a party, or on a shopping spree is not appropriate. Asking someone unprompted about sex purely because they differ from you is completely inappropriate, and yet people often look proud of themselves while asking for being so modern and unprejudiced.

However, despite all this, I understand why people want to know about this aspect of my life. It is not unwarranted to worry about having a future relationship with a disabled person and how to broach the subject of sex with them. So, for the record, sex is relatively uninhibited in my case although there are a few limitations, in particular around the frequency of sex. The fact that sex happens repeatedly should speak for itself on the satisfaction front.

It is worthy of note that sex differs for everyone, and this remains true for those with disabilities. While sex for some like myself differs little from the norm, some will only be capable of particular positions, or may not be able to have sex as frequently as a healthy individual. Therefore trying to evaluate the sex lives of the disabled by asking individuals is futile, as well as inappropriate. On the other hand, accepting that people with disabilities can and do have sex lives would help society to progress in recognising disabled people as equal to able-bodied individuals, and the modern and unprejudiced demeanour desired by so many would be achieved.

Deities, not Doctors.

One of the most difficult things to deal with as a sufferer of a chronic illness is actually something that is meant with the best of intentions, that is, prayer for healing.

I understand why people pray; it is something of a comfort blanket to submit all your problems to another being who can take care of them for you, in the same way a small child is comforted by a gentle hug from a parent or friend after grazing their knees during a fall. However, prayer doesn’t have the same appeal for others; it makes them feel awkward and uncomfortable, and I am one of these people.

Most people imagine that prayer for healing only occurs within religious groups of people, but this is not true. While the majority of such prayers have occurred within churches and related meeting groups in my case, I have had a significant number occur completely unprompted in situations that wouldn’t naturally lend themselves to deities. I have even had a total stranger approach me and ask to pray for my healing while waiting outside the theatre for the doors to open before a show.

Whenever someone prays for my healing in my presence, and I don’t immediately leap out of my wheelchair and perform a series of cartwheels, I invariably receive one of two reactions. The first is to blame me for lacking the faith God requires to be able to heal me, which only ever served to push me further away from God, and to distance me from organised religion. The second is to say that God has a plan for me, of which disability is a part, as if that would be enough to stop the pain. Some would even argue that this blog is part of God’s plan; it’s true that I wouldn’t be writing this was I not disabled, but that implies that the decision to try and make a difference to the treatment of disabled people is not my own, and I find that degrading. To be able to deem my efforts virtuous, they need to be the work of my own hands.

I have no issue with people praying for healing, and their kind-hearted and well-meaning sentiments are much appreciated. I simply wish that people would pray for my healing on their own, and would keep their thoughts about why I was not healed to themselves, or that they would let me ask for prayers for healing when I felt ready for them. It is not that I do not want to be healed; I simply wish to have the time and energy to prepare for such a life-changing event.

All disabled people will have very different feelings and experiences concerning healing and prayer, and I am sure that some will completely disagree with me. However, it may be worth asking how someone feels about the subject before immediately jumping into miracle mode, to save the discomfort and embarrassment of everyone involved.