I used to believe that sexuality was something for marriage. I had decided to do what I believed was right: to wait until I was married to have sex. So, as a sixteen year old with my first boyfriend, I was surprised to find that not having sex until I was married was probably going to be harder than I had originally expected. I was feeling new feelings, I felt desired, I felt desire for him, I felt sexy, I felt aroused. I felt all the things that I thought should live within marriage so I also felt guilty and sometimes, shameful.  

Fast forward to the age of nineteen, a week before I turned twenty when I was finally going to marry him. Four long years of restraint and sexual frustration could surely only amount to one thing: amazing sex. I almost felt as though my reward for managing to reach this day without having sex with my boyfriend was guaranteed to equate to a lifetime of care-free, shame-free, passionate, film-worthy sex.  

To my surprise, the wedding night didn’t go as smoothly as we’d planned (and yes, we had planned, fantasised, longed…). I was left feeling embarrassed, confused and upset. After years of waiting until it was ‘right’ to have sex, why didn’t the switch change the minute I said ‘I will’? Days passed, the honeymoon was beautiful but a grey cloud hovered over us as we still hadn’t been able to have penetrative sex. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Frustration turned to fear. Fear turned into panic attacks. The joyful anticipation of sex had somehow created a sense of dread each time we came close to intimacy. 

We were deeply in love newly weds with a deeply painful secret. As the months turned to years, it was clear that we needed some help. The doctors confirmed I was healthy and we arrived at yet another serious conversation, ‘is this what you really want?’. I had a boyfriend who had waited with me until we felt it was right but he had never imagined he’d be a husband in a sexless marriage. We would cry out to God in confusion, begging for something to change. We talked about the possibility this never changing, of me never carrying his child. Three years into our marriage, we’d only managed to have penetrative sex four times. Our situation could only have been described as distressing for both of us. 

At the end of 2013, after three difficult years, something changed. I can only describe it as a miracle. I still felt fear because the rhythm of fear was such a constant narrative in our intimacy, but it wasn’t crippling. Slowly and over many months, sex became part of our marriage. I felt relief; not anticipation or excitement, but huge relief that this didn’t feel impossible anymore and the things we ruled out became possibilities once again. During the battle, I had begun to dissect my thoughts, attitude, beliefs about sex and this is where my journey to healthy sexuality started. 

I had believed that my ‘sexuality’ had always been healthy because my view was that it belongs marriage; the journey starts there and that is where I had saved it for. The truth is that the journey to healthy sexuality starts as a child, it develops as you encounter puberty, it’s formed in the view of yourself and your body, it’s informed by what you see, hear and experience. It develops in the questions you ask, it blossoms in your mind and you sense it on your skin. Sexuality isn’t a sex act or an orientation; it’s an understanding of feelings, thoughts, attractions and behaviours. It’s diverse, intimate, raw, painful and beautiful.  

Over many years, I’ve battled with sex and sexuality. At times, it’s been my enemy and at other times, it’s been my close friend. The journey to healthy sexuality doesn’t begin in the ‘there and then’, it belongs in the ‘here and now’. Start your journey from wherever you are right now. Start in the teenage years, the singleness, the mess, the relationship, the divorce, the fifty years of marriage, the widowhood. Sexuality is a lifetime long journey and it won’t always look the same as it does right now or how it did in the past. So, go on the journey; there will be peaks and valleys, you’ll need to ask for directions, you’ll get lost and you’ll find the way, you’ll experience breakdowns and you’ll encounter endless beauty; there’s no destination.