Hypersexuality (previously called nymphomania) is being excessively interested or involved in sexual acts. This can include internet sites, increased sex with your partner, phone sex, prostitutes, extramarital affairs, and other risky behavior.
There’s not really a criteria for hypersexuality, but just that the person is doing stuff out of the norm for them.
I like this site.
This was by far the most damaging symptom of bipolar mania for me.
I had no clue what it was initially. Over time, I came up with several reasons for my hypersexuality. My most convincing one, most logical one, was that my body wanted to procreate again. Really. It had been about 15 months since my son had been born, and that was the longest my body had gone uninhabited in almost 5 years. So I thought YES, THIS MAKES SENSE. My uterus is reaching out to the world. Except, my uterus was reaching out to people it shouldn’t have. My reasoning for that, my husband had put on some extra weight and I had lost some attraction.
It all made sense to me. And to top it all off – it was what my body was telling me to do. Not just my uterus. My mind and my senses. My senses had never betrayed me before. They led me everywhere I had been in life, and ultimately to my husband. I trusted them. They were me.
Everything I was doing was a drug. It literally got me high. The weird part, to me, was that the sex wasn’t the most exhilarating part. It was getting the men to want me. To make the whole thing more exciting, they had to be attached. One was married, the other had a girlfriend. I thought that sex was the ultimate goal, but it wasn’t until after I was medicated and my husband asked questions that I realized that the chase was my drug. As soon as the sex was over, I was plotting when I could hook my prey again. Yeah, I was a total
hooker predator. It was like taking a hit of something, and the longer I went without it, the antsier I got. I felt frantic, sweaty, desperate. I had to have it again.
The next question is “how did you think this was going to end?”. I’ll be honest, I had no idea how it was going to end. The largest part of me, that controlled me, didn’t give a hoot. I had no disillusions of running away with either of these men. I loved my husband, my children, my family, our life. I wasn’t in love with or emotionally attached to anyone other than my husband. But when I thought about stopping what I was doing, my body reacted. Almost like an evil little man had taken post in my head and when he saw someone about to end his rein, he attacked. It seems like I was on a path to destruction, whether I wanted it or not. I was no longer in control. I didn’t realize I wasn’t in control at the time, I thought I was following my senses. I remember thinking to myself that I was disagreeing with myself, and thought it was odd. I analyzed the two feelings I was having, one being that I was doing just what I had to do right then, and one saying that it was wrong. I let myself feel these thoughts, hoping that by feeling them, I could at least commit to one and shut the other up. But I realized that the feeling that what I was doing had to be done was much much stronger than my resistance. Sure, I could think that was I was doing could be wrong, but I was being held captive by this other side that controlled me. Slightly like an out-of-body experience. I couldn’t move against myself.
I can tell you now, that when you realize you’re not in control of what your body is wanting to do, it’s time to see a doctor.
Here’s the kicker: I WAS seeing a doctor while this was happening. The same therapist and psychiatrist I had been seeing for 3 years. I had been diagnosed with anxiety and depression, which both seemed accurate. And that’s accurate for someone who is bipolar. You can feel jittery, and you feel depressed. There were lots of details that seemed insignificant to me that I failed to mention. That, and I was just never brutally honest with my therapist. I was as honest as I thought was necessary. Yet another hard lesson learned.
So this evil little man in my head, he didn’t completely occupy my mind. He controlled my behavior, but I could still occasionally think for myself. In a clear moment, I told myself that I knew something was wrong, and I had to get help. So the night before I was to see my therapist again, I took a notebook that I had been recording my moods in, and wrote down everything I had been doing that I knew was wrong. I was going to take it the next day and figure out why I was doing this and how to fix it. I didn’t allow myself to leave out any detail. It was clear to me that there was something wrong, and I wanted to get all my dirty laundry aired. I was tempted to start erasing, so I took the eraser out of the pencil. Sounds like a good plan…but my husband found it before I could get to my therapist. That’s a whole other post.
I should add that the hypersexuality wasn’t just for those other men, I was having much more, and much better, sex with my husband. Unprompted, in front of the washer, raunchy, hot sex.
But I got that notebook to the therapist. I wasn’t even onto the 2nd page before she interrupted and said, “I hate to say this, and I’m no doctor, but it sounds like you’re bipolar.” If I had been maybe slightly more honest years ago, this may have been diagnosed earlier, and I could have saved my husband a lot of pain. It’s hard though. I’m a woman. I’m emotional. Sure, I’ve had depression, and I certainly had anxiety, but never had any clear cases of hypomania or mania. Until it nearly ruined my marriage. I had been promiscuous years ago, but aren’t most 20 year olds? And anyways, I blamed them on Daddy issues. Isn’t that a huge cause of needing men?
Very troubling subject. Mine ended fairly well, considering how it could have ended: STDs (I was responsible and got checked), pregnancy, divorce…
It did cause more than enough damage, and I wish I could take it back. I hate thinking that there are people out there struggling with it right now, maybe ruining their life in the process. Now that I know I am Bipolar, I can better avoid these occurrences in the future. I feel like I should give out advice now…so,
1 – be brutally honest with your therapist and psychiatrist
2 – just say you need help, something is wrong
3 – take your medication