The Freedom in Letting Go: My Journey Through Surgery and Asexuality

Trigger Warning: This narrative discusses surgical procedures, trauma, and asexuality. Please read with care.

This is a deep, personal journey, one that might not resonate with everyone. If you're open to hearing my truth, I invite you to continue reading.

Why I Am Sharing This

I had a conversation with a woman who had undergone a radical hysterectomy and oophorectomy. She described the sense of freedom that came with losing all sexual feelings—a liberation I instantly recognized from my own experience. This intoxicating freedom followed my own surgeries, and while our stories are unique, the relief from societal expectations resonated deeply with me.

A Painful Beginning

From a young age, I felt I would lose my testicles. Early in my teens, I endured intermittent pain, eventually seeking medical advice at 18 without involving my mother. Several consultations led to surgical exploration, a path I took because pain medication wasn’t a sustainable solution.

At 19, I underwent my first surgery, learning that my testicles twisted randomly, cutting off their blood supply. It wasn’t until my second surgery when a nurse casually mentioned removal, that I began to grasp the full weight of my condition. I went through additional surgeries before leaving Canada, enduring years of post-operative pain and numbness.

Yet, despite the physical toll, the urologist refused to consider removal—likely because of my age. This stark contrast to how quickly women undergo similar procedures for ovaries or uteri taught me early on about the double standards in healthcare, particularly with men’s health.

The Impact on My Sexuality

Understanding how this trauma impacted my sexuality is complex. I was under immense pressure to find a family-oriented partner, joining an online service to find a wife. My marriage and sexuality were deeply intertwined with these experiences, yet my wife’s story is hers to tell.

In our early years, we faced an unbalanced sex life. My wife suffered from chronic pain, which consumed our lives. Conception was difficult, requiring medical intervention, and throughout her pregnancy, I was gripped with fear. Our son arrived healthy, but the stress we endured strained our relationship.

When my pain resurfaced, a male urologist dismissed me, offering no solutions. A year later, a female urologist finally recommended testicle removal. By that point, I was desperate for relief. However, the gender dynamics in Japan’s healthcare system meant that my wife had to advocate on my behalf, as the surgeon at the hospital was a man.

The day of my right orchiectomy was a turning point. I woke up, for the first time in years, free from pain—and I hoped this would lead to a reduced libido, to match my wife.

A New Reality

The healing process took nearly a year, and I was unprepared for the body image issues that followed. I felt exposed and self-conscious in public spaces like onsen. Intimacy with my wife became increasingly difficult for both of us. When we tried to conceive again, the fertility medications proved too much for her to handle.

In 2010, a cascade of stress surrounded both my wife’s and my own health. Her chronic condition ultimately led to a radical hysterectomy, permanently altering our relationship. It was a devastating blow as we had both deeply desired a second child.

Embracing Asexuality

As I contemplated removing my left testicle, I recognized the impact my wife’s sterility and her asexuality post-surgery had on my decision. I had already felt my testosterone levels plummet, and this surgery felt like the next natural step.

On October 13, 2010, I had my left orchiectomy. When I woke up, I felt a profound sense of freedom—far beyond what I expected. I was freer without my testicles than I had ever been with them. The complications and difficulties I faced with testosterone replacement therapy over the next 8 years motivated me to take greater control over my own health and compelled me to study and learn all I could about my situation.

Today, I identify as fully asexual and find deep joy in the sensual pleasures that life still offers.

Reflection and Acceptance

Reflecting on my journey, I see how sexual frustration played a significant role in my acceptance of each surgery. During my 18-month-long depression, I even contemplated a penectomy, hoping to rid myself of sexual function entirely. These dark thoughts highlighted the profound internal conflict I was grappling with.

Today, I can embrace the freedom that comes from letting go—letting go of societal expectations, my own fears, and the need for conventional sexuality. This journey has shaped my identity, and I feel grateful to share my truth with you.