The Story of a Girl with a Dysregulated Nervous System

The Story of a Girl with a Dysregulated Nervous System

Tavi Chhay

For a brief eternity, I was unable to experience intimacy without feeling an impending doom and a profound sadness afterwards. My nervous system is very dysregulated and I’m trying to rewire it.

They want to be around me, touch me, tell me their milquetoast Feminist takes, and put me onto bands I’ve been listening to since 9th grade—but eventually the kindness runs out and the fantasy is over. Always a sacrificial lamb, never a sacred deer. I wonder what it’s like to be adored instead of being devoured by wolves. I am torn apart and stripped to the bone, but I remain unseen.

Still, I don’t think sex must always be sacred for everyone all the time—I hate purity culture; it’s a structure that polices our bodies. Sex should be able to be fun and light-hearted, but I always feel like my existence eventually becomes annoying to the men I fuck. It’s strange how I feel out of place in my own intimate relationships. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I don’t know how to be a girl who's good enough. I go from being told I’m the most beautiful girl to being kicked out like a whore—but not before he kisses me goodbye and says “I’ll see you next week” or “See you never again.” For a while this was the only form of intimacy I knew.

Even with that perspective, I see the value in casual sex as part of the process of college students navigating desire, identity, and figuring out who they are. Still, it’s a double-edged sword. I’ve also had good sexual experiences—with guys who were earnest—we set clear expectations about what we wanted and what it would be. I would go home satisfied, not feeling like I’d just been used or like I’d lost my sense of purpose afterward. In my ideal world, it would always be like that.