Pain is all around and inside us, it's one of the things you can count on being there throughout your life – even more when you're disabled. Pain can be tortuous, exhausting and in some contexts, pleasurable, but for that to happen it needs to be intentional and consensual, which outside of BDSM isn't usually the case.
I started doing BDSM services before knowing of my physical disabilities. Having chronic pain gives you a unique experience with kink. I enjoy giving pain in the context of sessions and sometimes I enjoy receiving it, though I'm much more a sadist than a masochist. Many disabled people have a higher pain tolerance because we deal with it on a daily basis, so combining it with fun and pleasure can be a nicer way of experiencing it – though pain caused by chronic illness and pain caused in a BDSM session are very different.
Before realizing I was disabled, I always related to chronically ill people but couldn't understand why. Later I was diagnosed with CPTSD, autism, POTS and EDS, and I understood that it was the chronic experience of pain what I was relating to. The constant fatigue, joint pain, meltdowns, flashbacks, dizziness, etc. so much made sense and it was sort of a relief to finally know. At the same time, I realized that it wasn't something that would just go away like many people told me, and with that came the grief of accepting how my mind and body work differently.
Pain is all around and inside us, it's one of the things you can count on being there throughout your life...
I like the fact that I'm autistic, I wouldn't change it and I think people who wanna “cure” it are just eugenicist fascists. Autism is a disability though it's not an ‘illness.’ This is because many of the disabling parts of it have more to do with lack of accommodations and societal understanding than with being autistic in itself. Unlike CPTSD, which is caused by prolonged trauma, autism is something you're born with, like EDS. I don't exactly enjoy my physical disabilities, often I'm in pain or discomfort because of them and getting the right medical help is very hard.
Recently I got sick and went to see a general doctor who isn't a specialist in any of my diagnoses. Besides the specific symptoms I was there for, I told him about a symptom that's been getting worse for months. His response was, “it's normal that you're in pain.” I was disappointed and frustrated but it wasn't a surprise since this is a common experience for chronically ill people – though being invalidated, being told to just live with the pain, without ordering any labs or making any effort to ease it never gets easier to deal with.
Chronic physical pain and chronic mental pain are very related, they feed each other. For many BDSM sex workers, doing sessions and participating in kinky activities is something that help us in various ways – like paying for our medical appointments, therapy, helping us to process certain things (pain, trauma) in a controlled environment, learning to establish boundaries, exploring our pain tolerance and sensations outside chronic pain, and also exploring how others experience it. At the same time being a sex worker can be a difficult experience, largely because of the stigma surrounding it.
Chronic physical pain and chronic mental pain are very related, they feed each other.
Pain is an isolating experience. Most people don't want to look at someone in pain, they don't want to hear about it. It makes them uncomfortable. We aren't taught how to deal with it in ourselves or in others. Sometimes you don't even want to look at your own pain, you repress it or learn to hide it. It's hard to cope with. A common phenomenon I've noticed as a disabled person, is that with time, people get tired of hearing you talk about your pain. They normalize and get detached from it, even when you don't talk about all the extent of your symptoms or how they deeply affect you. Sometimes I, too, want to ignore it and just go on with my life, but I can't. My mind and body are constantly reminding me it's there. It ties me up and forces me to look at it, to hear what it has to say, to be mad at how much physical and mental trauma and negligence society puts many of us through.
People don't like when you have these kinds of struggles and don't become a good survivor, a good victim, a martyr, an inspiring story. I can admit that pain has taught me a lot, but it wasn't the nicest way to learn. It has made me tired, depressed, and traumatized. One thing that I like about it is rage – people fear rage, being angry is constantly demonized, but to quote one of my favorite anonymous essays, Beyond Amnesty, “some are closer to that scream and what it means than others. If you don't think you're fighting for your life, think again. If you know you're not fighting for your life, maybe you're on the wrong side.”
Pain is an isolating experience. Most people don't want to look at someone in pain, they don't want to hear about it...
Learning to use anger to fight is important: to fight against normativity, against discrimination, against fascism, against the constant effort from wider society to erase everything that doesn't adapt to its moral and hegemonic standards. It's also important to find people who shelter you when you tire of fighting, when you need a rest, friends who you can fight alongside with and also take space for caring for each other and your mutual wounds. Fellow sex workers, trans and disabled people often give each other mutual aid and peer support since usually we are not offered help by others who do not belong to these groups. In a capitalist society that pushes us to be individualistic and hide our pain, it's vital having the space to bleed together, to care for each other’s struggles and to not let them just fade away like it's just another drop of blood in the sea.
Are you a sex worker with a story, opinion, news, or tips to share? We'd love to hear from you!
We started the tryst.link sex worker blog to help amplify those who aren't handed the mic and bring attention to the issues ya'll care about the most. Got a tale to tell? 👇☂️✨
