I’m writing about my own experience. Your experience may be different so don’t overly compare and contrast. Some people don’t ever lose their sex drive when they have an eating disorder. Some people lose it and don’t want it back; not having a sex drive feels like a positive side effect of restriction. We are all different and there is no right or wrong path to recovering a sex drive. As with all blogs – take what helps and leave what doesn’t.
Initially, my lack of sex drive didn’t bother me. It wasn’t like I had a roaring sex life before my eating disorder started. Despite being in my late teens, I wasn’t sexually active. I was interested in boys but more interested in horses. The odd snog at a party on a Friday night was about the sum of it — and that was only going to happen if I didn’t have a riding competition that meant I had to get up at sparrow-fart on Saturday morning. Getting a boyfriend was a long way down my to-do list in life. So for me, lack of sex drive went largely unnoticed. For those of you who are in relationships or sexually active already when you develop your eating disorder, I expect it stands out more.
As I moved into my early twenties I longed for a boyfriend. I wanted the companionship more than than I wanted sex. Plus, I wanted to stop being the weirdo who had never had a boyfriend. As each year passed I became more and more self-conscious about having always been single. I dreaded the question from kindly relatives “have you got a boyfriend yet?” It reminded me how lonely I was. It reminded me how weird I was. It made me feel like a failure. A reject. Well and truly left on the shelf. It embarrassed me to think people might guess I was still a virgin. But none of that is to do with sex drive. That was all to do with feeling that I was failing miserably at life and being alone. I wanted to be loved, not bonked.
Of course from a biological point of view, it is appropriate that an under-resourced body would experience a decrease in the desire to have sex. Your body doesn’t want to deal with all that nonsense when it is chronically low on energy. Energy deficit is not the time nor the place to be reproducing as far as your biology is concerned. I think that most of us know this on an intellectual level, but it doesn’t really sink in. That’s anasognosia for you. In my fully recovered state, I look back with astonishment that I was walking around with no period and no sex drive and I thought I was okay. I want to grab my 22-year-old-messed-up self and yell “Wake the fuck up, you idiot! Your body is not okay!“
So yeah, to be very clear, in case you were wondering: your lack of sex drive is due to a lack of sex hormones which is due to your body struggling because you are not feeding it enough. It is not because your body has some mysterious defect. You don’t need to go get a load of tests done to determine what the problem is. You are not a medical mystery. Your body is not broken.
The root of your problem is simply that you are not feeding your body enough. Before you go get hormone therapy, spend a long while eating without restriction. I imagine you will find the problem is magically solved. I don’t even know you and I’m certainly not a doctor, but if you have no period and no sex drive and a restrictive eating disorder I’ll but my bottom dollar that unrestricted eating will sort both of those things out for you — along with a heck of a lot else.
How long will it take for my mojo to return?
Now because I didn’t know what I was missing, I wasn’t particularly concerned about not having a sex drive. That’s not the case for lots of people. I often speak to people who once had a sex drive and due to their eating disorder is has gone, and they miss it. If you have a partner, the lack of sex drive can feel like a slight on the other person, and not having it can bring feelings of guilt. Hence, when in recovery, people often want to know when it will come back. The answer to that, like with most things in recovery, is that it will come back when your body feels it is appropriate to bring it back. Focus on eating the food and resting and giving your body everything it needs in order to function. Be compassionate for what your body has been through, and be patient.
Denial of pleasure
If, like me, you don’t know who you are or what you like when it comes to sex before you develop an eating disorder, it can be difficult to work that out afterwards. My advice there is don’t rush it. It was a good couple of years after weight restoration for me until I really began to enjoy sex. And that is not to say I hadn’t enjoyed it at all before then — I had — I just mean a whole new level opened up for me further down the line.
I have my suspicions as to why that took so long. Firstly, on the biological level, my endocrine system took a long while to kick off, and a long while to figure things out. It wasn’t until that all settled down that I began to feel a much higher level of interest in sex, and got more physical enjoyment out of it.
Secondly, my eating disorder … turned me into somewhat of a prude. I don’t know how else to describe it. I went from being a fun-loving, risk-taking teen to being utterly … boring. This was mostly down to whatever system in my brain that deals with openness to pleasure deciding that pleasure of any kind had to be denied whenever possible. I am sure you know what I mean. It is similar to the reason most of us delay eating, save the favorite food to last etc,. Just with me it was very exaggerated. I was a hoarder, a prude, and I couldn’t allow myself to wear the new pair of jeans that had been sitting in my wardrobe for three years due to the thought of “saving” them. Anything at all that could be considered pleasurable was to be rationed and starved from. Sexual pleasure included. I was a frigid person when I had anorexia in just about every way possible. I mean, I used to wash and re-use Ziplock bags for Christ’s sake. Picture me hanging my rinsed out plastic bags around my kitchen sink and tell me it isn’t obvious that I wasn’t exactly Jilly Cooper.
I rationed the amount of loo roll I used. I only allowed myself to use the car if absolutely necessary. No, wanting to see someone was not a good enough reason to spend pennies on fuel and drive the 5 miles to a friends house. No matter how lonely I felt or how desperate, I wasn’t allowed to use the car for social means because that wasn’t considered a necessity by my standards. If I could go without, I would. When I had an eating disorder I was a master of forgoing any pleasure. I saw it as wasteful and looked down on people who needed the things that I starved myself of. It was as if I was winning at this secret game of “doing without” that my brain had created and turned into my reality.
Of course, if you look at that from a resource scarcity perspective, it makes more sense. My food-starved brain’s reality was that I was living though an apocalypse of some sort. From that point of view, what my brain did there makes a lot of sense. Because if one is existing though a time of extreme resource scarcity, one can’t be fucking around wasting money on non-essential to life frivolities such as driving over to a friend’s house. No, one needs to save that fuel for escaping Zombies.
Seriously though; In a hostile environment, we have to graft. And only those of us who can graft will survive. We have to be able to forgo pleasure and work work work so that we have a chance of survival. We have to move, migrate, scavenge, hoard, and do whatever it takes to try and stay on top. We certainly don’t have time to indulge. We shouldn’t even want to because wasting time and resources on indulgences could deplete us and our limited resources and that could lead to dire consequences. Famine or any other vital resource uncertainty is not the time to be making babies either. What my brain did makes perfect sense from a resource-scarcity mindset.
My famine lasted a long time. Nutritional rehabilitation didn’t. When I finally started really eating, I gained weight and began to look more “normal” relatively quickly. But the mental stuff takes longer. I had to neurally rewire a lot of that now ingrained famine response. I had to teach my brain that I didn’t need to hoard anymore. I had to show my brain that I didn’t need to be so tight with money anymore. I had to very hard on proving to my brain that not only was it okay not to be a workaholic, but that leisure time was good for me, and that I was allowed to enjoy doing nothing.
I had to rewire my tendency to shun pleasure.
The first step to rewiring anything is to identify the problem. Early on in recovery I identified my tendency to delay eating. I saw it as a food rule that had to go if I was going to eat without restriction. It took me a lot longer to recognize and identify things like my reluctance to spend money, my uncomfortableness with wearing my nice clothes, and my tendency to steer away from any sort of pleasurable activity, as part of my eating disorder. When I did recognise them, I was able to rewire them.
When I finally understood the pleasure thing, it opened my eyes to all the ways I was restricting pleasure. And there were many. Sex was one of them, but so was that bottle of posh brandy that I had been given on my 18th birthday that had been gathering dust on the top shelf of my room. I was always saving things for a rainy day but when that rainy day came, it wasn’t rainy enough. No birthday, wedding, or anniversary had felt special enough to open that bloody bottle of brandy. And I realized then, that no occasion ever would. So I opened it then and there on a normal Wednesday afternoon, and shared a tipple with the old lady in the flat next door whose name I didn’t know.
Suddenly, I felt in a rush to open all the things I had been saving — to wear all the clothes, and experience all the experiences. I had been literally wasting my life. The rate I had been going, I was taking all these prized possessions and my pleasure-less life to the grave with me. I realised I really didn’t have to live this way anymore. I could take sips from this bottle of brandy, and when it was gone it was gone but it was also highly likely I could acquire another if I really wanted one. I could wear these jeans and when they wore out, I could allow myself to buy another pair. I could get in the bloody car and drive over to see a friend and when the tank was empty I could go to the gas station and fill it.
So that is how I came to understand that my aversion to pleasure was something I had taught my brain to do, and something I needed to rewire. But there is always a phase of uncovering in rewiring — you have to be able to see the problem first so that you can decide to rewire it. Once my eyes had been open to it, new ways in which I had been avoiding pleasure kept on coming to light.
For some of us, recovery is a series of liberations. It isn’t as easy as one big liberation because you have to understand you are suppressing something before you can do the work to liberate it. The good news, is that it can be a really fun journey.
Long story short. I really like sex. And I love that I allow myself to really like sex.
TL;DR: You will have better sex if you eat more.
Great post, Inrelated to 90% of it. I still save ziplock bags. I didn’t realize how much I was depriving myself of moments until I started to eat more and do more things I used to restrict. Those “jeans” I was “saving for the perfect moment” never came. Now it’s a little easier to do these things. Thanks for writing this and telling your story. Btw the link at the bottom to donate via PayPal is not working.
Great Post, as I was realised so many similarities between our experiences. I too experienced the sex drive depletion and the guilt and same that goes with it but I’d never attributed it to my eating disorder – it’s not one of the things often talked about.
Thank you so much for this blog. It is a topic that concerns me very much. I am weight restored and I think I’m pretty far in my recovery. However my sex drives have not yet come back. But after reading your text I think I will just continue my process and wait and not go and see a doctor and ask for a hormon therapie…. i love your blogs, and so often think you’re talking about me. Especially the money issu was i.e. soooooo hard for me, your blogs about the money problems are the ones that I love most. It is the topic no one talks about, but in my anorexia the money Problem was really one of the worst. But this problem already disappeared, and I hope that my sex drives will come back one day, too.
Now that a couple years have passed, did your sex drive ever come back?
Great article and a light bulb or two went off when the saving something for a special time or a rainy day was mentioned. It’s amazing to me how there are so many detailed things people like us share or deal With- experiences, basically. Belief systems too. I have more hope this year than ever. Look forward to next article, Tabitha
Thanks for these words. I have always been stunned by the way the restriction of my eating reflects so many other areas of my life I am restricting. For me it has often been related to overwhelm with choices: less choices, less anxiety. Yet my yearning for creative, sensual, variety, pleasurable things in life have urged me to face this anxiety–the anxiety I feel when feeling “too full” of food, of life, of myself. I’m working on getting myself more and more used to more and more lifeness instead of siphoning it to a trickle to prevent what I think of as a fragile constitution from freaking out. I am working on showing myself that I am stronger than that, and that going into this anxiety is possible and transformative. I’m thinking of the book Pleasure Activism right now by adrienne marie brown…I’d like to hear your thoughts on her work!
Thanks again. I relate so much! I laughed when I read about the zip-lock bags and driving the car. So me.
Wow, thank you so much for this post. It was really eye-opening for me, and I can relate on so many levels. I have always been one to “save” things – saving a bottle of wine for a special occasion that never comes (because what if there is something “more special” ahead?), saving certain foods in the pantry/freezer/etc for fear that a time will come when it’s completely gone, etc, etc, etc. I have never connected these thoughts and feelings with my eating disorder, but reflecting now, it is obvious that these practices have intensified over recent years as my eating become most disordered. I feel like I’ve gained so much more insight into myself from reading your post, and from now on I will be considering these thoughts in a different light. Thank you again, so very much.
Thank you so much, Tabitha.
I am in the middle of my 5th relapse. It’s mostly been due, I think, to the misery of lockdown – having independence, choices, and especially the right to rehearse and perform music, taken away. When there is nothing to look forward to, why bother remaining healthy? And, naturally, with restriction and weight loss, comes a general deadening of emotions. Right now I’m so worried that the roadmap out of lockdown will be denied and I can’t face the full-on sadness and anger I would feel if I had a fully-nourished body.
I have also noticed that my sex drive is lower, of course. I have always had a high sex drive and, generally speaking, have not felt ashamed or worried by it. My partner also has a high sex drive, and we have excellent sex, but he is somewhat older than me, and I’m scared that one day we will be out of sync because he will be old and tired but I’ll still be raring to go. My weight loss is not extreme, but I know that I’m thin enough that he finds me less attractive than when I’m my usual size. I also obviously dislike my body a lot at the moment, due to the dichotomy of being underweight and feeling fat/that I could do better no matter how thin I become. Just to be clear – my partner has not refused sex, or said anything hurtful. He’s one of the sweetest and kindest people I’ve ever known, and I love him. I simply asked him his opinion, and he replied that I look too thin and he is concerned about me. Initially, I used his concern and his preference for fewer visible ribs as a way to try to recover. I was also concerned myself about how my legs ached all the time (though I kept forcing myself to cycle up hills) and how I was beginning to lose my balance when I walked. I managed about five days. I discovered that, after eating what seemed like a banquet, I had only gained 2lbs and so I’ve gone back to losing. I also started purging again because I couldn’t cope with the extra food I was trying to eat, or the extreme hunger I was suddenly feeling.
Back to the sex drive: It makes me feel simultaneously lonely and relieved to be less sexual and less attractive. I worry that I want sex too often, in just the same way that I worry I need food too often etc. As far as I’m aware, this is not about being female and what is socially expected of women. It’s merely the way I feel about myself. It’s as if other people can have and want as much sex and food as they please, and that’s okay, but for some reason if I want lots of sex or food then I’m greedy and excessive.
I am trying not to need food, sex, or my partner. I don’t want to be dependent on him because it makes me feel weak. I’m 37 and, for various reasons (partly illnesses) I have not managed to have the life I originally aimed for in terms of career etc. I feel like a failure. He is 61 and last year took early retirement. We live very happily together in a beautiful place which he paid for. I’ve discussed all this with him more than once, and have received nothing but kindness – though he has absolutely no idea what it’s like to have a mental health problem. He also has said that he wants to have sex as often as we can for as long as we can, just that one day he may struggle. Why, with all this love and acceptance, do I feel so guilty, and why am I still depriving myself of food and care? Why am I trying to drive him away? Why am I so intent on getting back down to my lowest weight?* What does it achieve except a waste of time, health, and happiness? These questions are largely rhetorical, I suspect.
I think also, having just read/watched about how eating disorders can occur after a deficit, that I’ve discovered when mine occurred. I had cancer treatment aged 15-16. The medics make you painfully aware of your weight in any case, but I got a horrible infection at one point which gave me massive ulcers in my mouth and down my oesophagus. Naturally, I couldn’t eat a thing and could barely drink. I lost nearly a stone and a half and, though I wasn’t anywhere near dangerously thin, I was made to have a nasogastric feeding tube for a few weeks as weight loss with chemotherapy can cause problems. Ever since then my relationship with food and my body has been suboptimal and I first developed a proper eating disorder when I was 18. I’ve never been hospitalised, but it keeps coming back, either as anorexia or bulimia. The last anorexic relapse was in 2016, and I thought I was largely rid of it until around New Year 2021 when it all started up again.
I realise this is a recovery site, and I’m here talking about relapsing, but I have been taking great comfort in the content. I don’t feel ready to recover (the old chestnut about not having lost enough weight yet!) but I think the fact that I’m here is a step in the right direction.
*I know you don’t care about exact weight, rightly believe that restrictive eating disorders occur at any size etc. but I am, of course, acutely aware that though I have been underweight on several occasions, I have never been emaciated. I know it’s nonsense to want to be emaciated and the competitive side of this illness is so ridiculous. I feel that the insight I have into my anorexia ought to be enough for me to recover, but it isn’t. Yet.
Thank you, Tabitha, for helping me to see how my self deprivation in so many areas of my life is closely related to my anorexia
I’m much better now, but my brain wiring needs a lot of work still.