Being bipolar and celibate is quite a unique struggle. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2007 after being misdiagnosed with depression for 5 years. Bipolar disorder is a mood disorder that is marked by dramatic and unpredictable maniac and depressive episodes. The disorder spans several aspects but I’m not about to go WebMD on y’all.
The bipolar diagnosis did explain a lot, especially in regards to the early onset of my promiscuity. In my maniac phase, I become hypersexual.
Before celibacy, I would seek any means to appease my urges and men were always willing to oblige. All of my sense of decency was temporarily tossed aside. Nothing else mattered. It was all about feeding my need. The intensity of these feelings couldn’t be ignored. My va jay jay would throb for attention—literally. I would go through my phone wondering who I should call. (Thankfully, I have deleted numbers since then.) There are times I had to talk myself out of showing up at Soothe’s or Bug A Boo’s apartment. (We live in the same complex.)
A few months ago, I was hypersexual for nearly 3 weeks. It was one of the longest maniac episodes that I have ever experienced. I engaged in oral sex—twice. I was too ashamed to admit it initially because I let my hypersexuality interrupt my life—yet again. I thought I was making strides and this setback nearly ruined everything. I stopped blogging temporarily because of it. I felt like a failure.
The first experience was with “The One Who Loves to Text”. Text is someone I knew from my teenage years. We reconnected via Facebook and we started to text each other. I declined seeing him several times because I figured he was only looking for a booty call. After his constant insisting, I decided to see him while in a maniac state. We watched The Boondocks on DVD and had oral sex. It was nothing special, earth shattering, or worth repeating. I was consumed with regret as I drove home, mostly because it didn’t extinguish the flame burning inside of me. I didn’t feed my need.
For days I needed some type of sexual contact. I needed a release but didn’t want to have sex because I knew once that ball start rolling, it wouldn’t stop. And this journey would have been for nothing. I contacted Lied. I know I shouldn’t have but I did. Lied knew my body like the back of his hand. He had 11 years of experience and knew how to eat the pussy like it was his last meal. He fulfilled his function. He had me climbing the walls and I’m pretty sure all my neighbors heard me. I told him to enter me but he didn’t. I insisted beforehand that I only wanted oral sex and I guess he figured that I would regret it later. Or perhaps he had a Bill Clinton moment and figured that oral sex didn’t constitute as infidelity.
The elation died as the mania took a bow. Regret took off its shoes, started to get comfortable, and shuffled through my emotions. I cut off all further communication with “Lied” for good.
Since these episodes, I have sworn off having oral sex. My celibacy journey has now included abstaining from licking, sucking, and slurping on genitalia and vice versa. It has become detrimental to my journey. Although I keep resisting, I need to restart my mood stabilizers. Taking pills further verifies that I’m some sort of crazy and I hate that label. Medication makes me feel less than my authentic self. Oh well…
Question of the Day
What is your definition of celibacy? Is it just abstaining from penetration or sex of any kind? Should celibacy exclude masturbation? Give me your answer down below.