How Accessible Was Eroticon 2019?

Image is of Morgan, a blue-haired nonbinary human with facial piercings, smirking and holding their Eroticon delegate badge up to the camera. The badge reads "Eroticon, Morgan Peschek, @KinkyAutistic, Pronouns: They/them, Delegate".

(To those of you who follow me on Twitter and are bloody sick of hearing me talking about Eroticon, worry not! This is the last blog post I’ll put up that directly relates to it. Next week will be a continuation of last month’s stalkery Smut Saturdays story, and after that I have posts about why there are so many autistic people doing kink, how I feel about receiving cunnilingus and plenty more in the pipeline!)


It’s been just shy of a week since Eroticon 2019 came to an end, and I have to say: I loved it.

For those not in the know, Eroticon is an annual conference held in London all about sex, sex writing, sex blogging and sexy, sexy search engine optimisation. This was my first year attending (and was, in fact, my first experience attending any kind of conference) and I was anxious about every element of it, but I particularly wanted to discuss its accessibility since my whole Thing™ is about being simultaneously slutty and disabled.

I’ll start with the good things, and then mention areas for improvement, but I want to stress that Eroticon was an unbelievably positive and welcoming environment and that I could sense the whole time how much thought and care was poured into its planning and into making it as accessible as humanly possible. I already have plans to attend again next year and I’m even toying with the idea of pitching a session, so you can rest assured that even the things that were less than ideal weren’t nearly enough to ruin the fantastic experience I had. I’m also only going to talk about the accessibility of the conference itself, not the Friday night Meet And Greet or the Saturday night social, because those were hosted in a Holiday Inn entirely beyond the control of the organisers and because this post is running at too many words already.

The Good:

  1. Whilst trying to assuage my ever-growing anxiety about the fact that I was going to fucking London for a fucking conference, I spent hours studying the Eroticon website and was pleasantly surprised to find both a floor plan and a virtual tour of the building in which it was taking place. This is, as far as I’m concerned, an accessibility feature – being able to visualise a space before I have to navigate it in the flesh realm is anxiety-reducing and makes it marginally less likely that I’ll get lost. (I did get lost, but that wasn’t for a lack of signage in the building – I just get overwhelmed easily and forget how to read sometimes.)
  2. The aforementioned building, Arlington House, features a step-free entrance and both lifts and stair lifts to make all the rooms stairlessly accessible. I was thankfully having a good weekend in terms of my joint pain and stability, but knowing that I could have foregone the stairs if I’d needed to was a huge comfort.
  3. This only tenuously fits under the heading of “accessibility”, but the toilets were all gender-neutral, including the larger, wheelchair-accessible one. I suppose this is only an accessibility feature if you, like me, have debilitating anxiety that is worsened by dysphoria, but then again, all accessibility features are designed to accommodate specific needs that not every disabled person will have.
  4. The lunch options available were, as far as I could gather, brilliant for anybody with particular dietary needs – food that had to be allergen-free was stored separately from food that didn’t, and there was the opportunity to request vegetarian and vegan options and other such specialist things. Unfortunately, there was no “I am a fussy bitch baby” option, so the only things I could face eating were the fruit and the cake, but I can’t fault anybody for that – I have such particular, limited tastes in food that I wasn’t expecting to find much I’d like. I can heartily recommend the red velvet cupcakes, though.
  5. There was a room labelled the “Silent Sanctuary” where people who were overwhelmed, needed to rest, etc. could go to lie or sit down, and it even featured the thoughtful touch of colouring books. As I’ll go into below, it wasn’t perfect, but it was an enormous relief to slip into when I was finding myself somewhat burnt out and in need of some quiet crocheting time.

The Bad:

  1. Like most of the things I’m about to list, this was beyond the control of the Eroticon organisers, but it’s still worth mentioning for future attendees: the Silent Sanctuary was not silent. All of its occupants, when I visited, were exceptionally quiet and respectful, but its doors opened right onto the vendor area, so even when they were shut, a continual murmur of noise leaked through – and whenever anybody opened them, it was like being right back in that busy corridor. I appreciate that it was probably a priority to keep the Silent Sanctuary close to the busy vendor area precisely so that overwhelmed people like me could access it easily, and I’m not sure how anybody could have soundproofed it, but it’s worth bearing in mind so if you’re the noise-sensitive type you can consider bringing earplugs or ear defenders.
  2. The vendor area itself was the only place I ever visited where seating wasn’t readily available. I don’t know how they might have crammed seating in there for attendees, as it was situated in a corridor that saw heavy footfall most of the time, but my knees, hips and ankles were not best pleased about the fact that I had to stand for the entire duration of my (genuinely fascinating) discussions with various vendors. I can only suggest knowing your limits and maybe popping an ibuprofen before visiting the vendor area; the breakout space and all the talks had chairs available, so you could always duck out and plant yourself on one of those, but if you wanted to hang out with vendors and learn about exciting new products, it was standing room only.
  3. Again, I can’t blame the Eroticon organisers for this, but there were a lot of scents making appearances over the weekend. I’m not sure whether it was the rooms themselves that were scented with some kind of air freshener or whether attendees were wearing scents, but as a hypersensitive autistic baby, I found myself suffering bouts of nausea as well as more frequent overwhelm as a result of scents seemingly coming from all directions. I’m hesitant to suggest a no-scent or low-scent policy for next year because I don’t want to be entitled and demanding, but some people have migraines and other physiological conditions that are triggered by scents and others, like me, find them overwhelming even in small doses.
  4. I fully understand that hosting Eroticon in Camden makes it accessible to a lot of people who are arriving by public transit, and I also understand that finding an accessible venue that will host sex-related events is an unimaginable ballache. However, Camden is on the cusp of being financially inaccessible: even if you receive one of the tickets funded by sponsors, finding affordable accommodation and food in Camden is a whole task in and of itself, and if you choose to stay in an area of London outside of Camden you have to account for the price of public transport to get over to Arlington House. Again, I have no suggestions for where to host Eroticon instead, especially since Arlington House are an excellent organisation doing excellent work, but I have to mention financial accessibility, especially since us disableds are some of the people most likely to experience financial difficulties.

The Overview:

I had a brilliant time at Eroticon. I really, really did, and I cannot imagine a better first-conference experience than the one I had. The minor criticisms I have are all things that don’t fall directly at the feet of the Eroticon team and are near-impossible to remedy, but they’re things I wish I’d been aware of before I attended so I could make sure I had ibuprofen and earplugs – which is why I’ve mentioned them here! I’d love to meet even more members of this loving, supportive, truly incredible community, so I figured I could do my bit by equipping potential 2020 attendees with some knowledge that’ll make their Eroticon experience even better.

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Borderline Personality Disorder and Relationships

Image is a selfie of Morgan, a white blue-haired nonbinary person with multiple facial piercings, who appears to have been crying very recently: their nose is pink, their face is damp and their mouth is sort of pulled off to one side because they are too sad to smile. They're holding two fingers up to the camera in the peace sign and their face is framed by the fluffy hood of their coat.

I’m going to have to start this post with a disclaimer. I was referred to a psychiatrist for an assessment as to whether I had BPD in 2017, and their conclusion was that I had borderline personality traits but didn’t meet the criteria for an actual diagnosis. My theory is that this decision was reached in part because my existing diagnosis of autism accounted for some of my symptoms and my trauma-related stuff means that I suppress or downplay some others. Regardless, I don’t want to position myself as an expert on BPD, and I’m using it as a piece of vocabulary which explains my experiences whilst trying not to attribute everything and anything to a diagnosis I don’t actually have.

With that out of the way, here’s the post proper:


I sometimes refer to my BPD as “Big Emotions Disorder”.

If you’ve seen Disney’s Peter Pan, you might recall that Tinkerbell, like other fairies, is so small that she can only experience one emotion at a time, and she experiences it so intensely that it clouds her judgement and she seems to forget anything that she has felt or experienced in the past, as well as forgetting the possibility that she might feel or experience anything different in the future. That’s how I feel emotions.

It fucking sucks.

It doesn’t always suck, of course: when I’m happy, I’m Big Happy, and that can be really pleasant, as can other Big Emotions such as Big NRE, Big Stoned and Big Inspired and Determined. But even those have their pitfalls. Big NRE can cause me to lose all sense of perspective, ignore or misread red flags and rush into relationships that are, at best, not well-suited to me and my circumstances (and are, at worst and alarmingly often, abusive). Even plain ol’ Big Happy can be detrimental in that it causes me to forget that I am, in fact, mentally ill, meaning that I over-commit to things, insist to medical practitioners that I’m doing fantastically and am horrified when I plummet back into depression and/or anxiety. This doesn’t just occur if I’ve been Big Happy for a number of days or weeks; a few hours of Big Happy is all it takes for me to become convinced that I was faking the depression, anxiety and PTSD all along.

And then, of course, there are the “bad” Big Emotions. Big Sad feels like an all-consuming tidal wave of despair and can be brought about from something as simple as Tesco running out of my favourite cookies. Big Scared triggers my fight-or-flight response in mundane situations such as visiting a new restaurant. Imagine every unpleasant emotion a human can feel multiplied by ten and made much, much easier to trigger – that’s my constant, day-to-day, exhausting experience of emotion. The one that seems to have the biggest impact on my relationships, though, is Big Insecure (and its cousin, Big Self-Hatred).

When I’m Big Insecure, I cannot see anything good in myself. Even the things I’m usually proud of, like knitting tiny hats for premature babies, are warped beyond recognition in my mind until I convince myself I’m only doing those things to earn praise or to hide my true (disgusting) nature. I grow to firmly believe that my partners only stay with me out of fear of the consequences our break-up might have, even though I’ve tried hard to make clear that they’re not responsible for my mental health or safety, or that they stay with me because I’ve manipulated them, taking advantage of trauma-bonding and their individual insecurities and sometimes-low self-esteem to ensnare them, so they can’t even see how despicable I truly am.

On average, I attempt to break up with at least one partner at least once a month. I explain that it’s for their own good, that I love them so much I could burst but that’s why I have to turn them loose from my machinations, that I never meant to manipulate them but I know that I have done so and that soon, once freed from me, they’ll realise exactly how awful I was and be unspeakably glad to have escaped. And my partners, every single time, have to spend hours reminding me that they are autonomous adults, that they love me, that I am not all that my brain says I am and that I do this all the time. They promise me that if I ever want to break up with them for my own reasons I’m welcome to do so, but firmly remind me that I can’t just break up with myself on their behalf: that’s their call. If I continue to spiral, sometimes they get me to take the PRN medication I keep on my person for acute episodes of anxiety, and sometimes they prompt me to phone my mum or get another partner’s opinion on the situation.

They do all this knowing that in three hours’ time I’ll be right as rain, planning my next sixty blog posts or an entirely new project that will most likely never see the light of day.

My BPD can put a strain on my relationships because I experience my lows so intensely and require so much reassurance to dig myself out of them, but I work hard to make sure my partners aren’t walking on eggshells around me. I remind them that even if they’ve done something that sparked a Big Emotion, it’s not their fault that the emotion is so Big. I tell them often that I want to be told when I’ve upset them, done something inconsiderate or otherwise could change my behaviour, but I also provide them with templates for how to convey that information to me in a way that minimises my unhelpful Big Emotional response. I go to therapy and I do my best to implement CBT techniques in my self-talk as well as teach my partners how they can help me to use them: they often ask me what evidence I have that I’m a terrible person, remind me of evidence that suggests I’m not, and gently suggest I may be misinterpreting evidence so it better fits my schematic beliefs. I also find healthy outlets for my Big Emotions, like baking bread (which is a constructive way to beat the shit out of something for ten-plus minutes), singing loudly, ugly-crying at documentaries or films, long walks, bad sketches and, when all else fails, screaming into cushions until my throat hurts.

It’s a lot of work and it’s never-ending, for both me and my partners, but I like to look on the bright side. My engagement with therapy coupled with my determination not to become the self-centred delicate monster I fear I might be means that I have a huge amount of insight into my emotions and my thought patterns, as well as some sophisticated ways to communicate about them. My Big Emotions make me fiercely loyal, unreservedly affectionate and as emotionally available as it is possible to be. My disordered personality isn’t a bad personality, or even an especially difficult one: having BPD as part of my vocabulary means that I know what challenges I face in relationships and can come prepared with reading material and my own bread flour, which puts me at an advantage over neurotypicals who haven’t done such intense introspection and research. It doesn’t make me a better partner, but it does help me be a more prepared one.

I wanted to write this because so much media regarding BPD and relationships is about how to be a good partner to people with BPD, except for the truly unkind stuff which argues that people with BPD cannot be good partners at all. I wanted to put into the world something from the perspective of a borderline person who is doing their fucking best and who does, whatever Big Insecure says, have a number of fantastic qualities that make them an excellent friend, partner, family member, employee and whatever else they want to be. I wanted to be a voice that says, “I’m borderline and it’s hard as hell but it’s worth it, it’s so worth it to pursue relationships and love people in the unabashed, unreserved and totally unconquerable way that us borderlines do.”

I’m Big Hopeful that I’ve achieved that.