“The month that followed my only breakup consisted of nothingness”
The month that followed my only breakup consisted of nothingness. That loneliness in the loudest of rooms, the emptiness in my stomach and the constant gag in my throat. I had the classic symptoms of ‘‘she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep’’. Sometimes I fear I never shook that feeling.
Grief is a life sentence. Although there is constant debate about the different stages and how they affect who, what, and where, a common agreement can be reached on the consistently weighing effects depression has on a person.
Grieving, as cliche as it sounds, is personal and individually fluid, it’s a loss in any human way. It’s not uncommon to lock yourself away, I think we’ve all done it to ourselves and to others. I know I did it. I tried so hard to fix myself and ensure that I didn’t spiral into the depths of depression that I decided on a course of nursing others back to health — quite literally. And now, two years on, I recognise my own self-destructive behaviour. This is certainly a strange action we take. Taking away a safe space for what? Depression is alive and well in grief even when we choose to ignore it. And where I fail to give advice, I can’t emphasise enough the importance of prioritising yourself no matter how dark the day.
Grief is just all the leftover love we don’t know where to put. Attempting to have any sex life while riding the fourth stage is similar to entering a sword fight with a butter knife. Sex is a form of communication. It’s an intimate expression of how you feel and represent yourself in that moment. At certain times, sex is powerful, wonderful and, if you’re lucky, kind.
Dealing with depression leads to a lot of self-destructive behaviour, to a greater extent than in the other stages of grief. And what easier tool can we abuse than sex? Unfortunately for the grieving, our lives do not reflect a 2000s rom-com where we sneak out of a beautiful person’s apartment, slip on our sexy, sparkly heels, and giggle as we toss our hair running out the door. The guilt is too consuming, and then regret and self-hatred often arise. Can sex reduce us to feeling dirty and shamed? But using sex to deprive yourself of feeling, of loving — it’s a terrible trap that is far too easy to fall into.
It’s a personal opinion on sex and grief and depression, but why not be personal? Let’s throw it all in the blender and start talking. There is a huge stigma around sexual health. There’s an uncomfortable ease of slut-shaming in society, but there is a wall built around sexual health discussions. Maybe it emerges from our primary school sex-ed talks. In my formative experiences, the straight white man who taught our sex-ed class described cisheteronormative intercourse enacted by married couples to reproduce as the only option.
Is it the Irish in us? Is culture why we still feel such shame towards sex? Our grannies who refuse to say the word vagina? Is it the same shame that we hide surrounding STIs? Last year alone Ireland saw a shocking 68% increase in gonorrhoea. Could it be a result of how we are communicating? Or does it go back to self-destruction? What are we hiding from? Maybe we don’t even know what sex truly is at its core. When grief opens the door and you fear your own mind, while depression rains so strongly, I don’t think we know anything.
“But not knowing is okay, life is built around mistakes and resets”
But not knowing is okay, life is built around mistakes and resets. We are stained glass, with each piece and colour reflecting all the stages in our life, including grief. I don’t believe the moments of grief are grey pieces of glass, because even when those moments are as colourless as the darkest depths of the ocean, you can swim up for air. I am here today grieving, and that part of my being made me choose the paths in my life to get me to where I am supposed to be, hopefully.
“Grief may be a life sentence, but these stages pass”
Depression is a barrier, and it’s far too easy to let it be just that — but we are allowed break up with people that don’t make us feel enough without guilt. We are allowed to have sex, love, and cry because we are human. Grief may be a life sentence, but these stages pass.
