Today, I Feel BROKEN!

I had just about the worst session with my therapist today. I’m not really sure what happened. Or what I’m even really feeling. I feel frustrated, annoyed, discouraged, kind of pissed off… I don’t know. I’m crying uncontrollably right now and can’t even explain why. The tears just came out of nowhere. Today was one of those days. One of those days where everything seems to just be wrong and I’m annoyed at the world and I wanna do nothing but cry.

About 5 minutes ago, I knew exactly where I wanted to go with this post. There were things I wanted to say and frustrations I wanted to express. And now I can’t remember a single one of them. What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t know, but I think the rest of this post is probably gonna be an incoherent ramble.

I find that I tend to have a very hard time expressing my thoughts and feelings and whatnot. A very hard time. For the most part, if I have a lot of time to think and gather my thoughts, I can communicate just fine when I write. But when I’m put on the spot, like at the therapist’s office, for example, I tend to clam up and my mind goes blank. So then I try to rack my brain to think of what it is I want to say, and I spew out whatever bullshit lands on the tip of my tongue. Which is what I think happened today, and which is why my therapist was on a completely different page from me today. I don’t know. I tried to tell her how I’ve been feeling this week. How I haven’t had much desire to do anything in the vaginismus-fixing department. And how I’m starting to feel like this is going to be impossible for me to fix. She asks me why I feel that way. Everything is why do you feel this? Why do you feel that? Well I gotta tell you, most of the time, I have no idea why I feel a certain way. I just FEEL. I don’t always THINK, nor do I have the ability to rationalize what I’m feeling most of the time. For example. The last time I felt this little wave of depression, I cried after I dropped a fork at work. Why did that make me cry? I don’t know. I also don’t know why I’ve been afraid of penetration for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why I’ve always associated penetration with pain. And I don’t know why I freaked out when I found out what intercourse was. When you eat, you put food in your mouth, right? So why is it so scary to think that when you have sex you put a penis in your vagina? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!

*Deep Breath*

Ok, so I haven’t been feeling great. I obviously had a setback. So we took insertion off the table. Let me backtrack. Last time I met with my therapist, she said that since I seemed to be getting so comfortable with trying to insert my finger, then I can just go ahead and try actual insertion. As soon as I got home that night, I freaked. Once again, I don’t know why, but I freaked. My therapist seemed to think that my subconscious mind wasn’t ready for that step yet, so it’s now yelling, “STOP!” She asked me why I was in such a hurry. Personally, I don’t think I’m in a hurry at all. I’ve known about this for almost 5 months now, and have been in therapy for a little over 2, and I haven’t even gotten anywhere near the first dilator yet. I remember reading on some websites that vaginismus treatment usually takes a few months. I know that’s a load of bullshit, but regardless, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten anywhere. And that’s frustrating.

She also seemed to think that maybe I’m afraid of getting fixed. That maybe once I’m fixed, I will no longer have my condition to “blame” for my relationship problems. That I’m afraid that once I fix this, I won’t be able to find anyone to have sex with (gee, thanks). That I’m afraid of sex itself… No! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO. I want to be fixed more than ANYTHING. I’m not AFRAID of being fixed, because being fixed will mean that I can be freaking NORMAL. That I can use tampons just like all the normal women my age. That I can have SEX (which I want more than anything… pain-free of course). That I can take pleasure in seeing and hearing about sex everywhere I go, instead of feeling bitter about it, because I’ll actually have the ability to do it. Like a NORMAL person. Why would I be afraid of something I want so badly?

She doesn’t like it when I say that I’m not normal. That I’m broken. But the truth is, that is how I FEEL. No matter how many times someone tells me that I’m normal, I don’t FEEL normal, and I’m never gonna BE normal. Even if I overcome this, I’m never going to be able to have random, spontaneous sex out in the middle of a field, under the stars, or caught in the rain. No, because I’m always gonna need to be a in a comfortable position, completely relaxed, with plenty of lube on hand. I don’t know why I think random, spontaneous sex is my definition of normal, but it’s something a person should have the ability to do. If sex is so natural, why is it so unnatural (and impossible) for me?

Physically, I also feel like I’m not normal. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of the endless varieties of vulvas, and I know mine’s different from everyone else’s, but how do I know that mine is normal? Why doesn’t something just glide in there like it’s supposed to? Where’s the path of least resistance (as described here)? Why does there seem to be a freaking WALL there?! Yes, I know it’s the tight pelvic muslces and all that jazz, but I’ve been feeling some random, very weird pains, and I really would feel better if I could just get it checked out. I’m sick of all this psychobabble and relaxation. I just want to be hooked up to a biofeedback machine already so that I could actually SEE that my muscles are too tight, and that it’s not something I’m making up in my head. What if it’s not my muscles at all, but something else all together? I just want someone to take a look and tell me what’s going on down there. 

FIX ME!!

Frustrated

I’ve been feeling pretty frustrated the past few days. With practically everything in my life right now. Frustrated that I still haven’t bought a new car. Frustrated that I never have any money, and now I’m going to have even less when I start making car payments. Frustrated that my room is a fucking mess and I’m too lazy to do anything about it. Frustrated that half my shit is always in a suitcase because I spend my weeks in Philly and my weekends in NJ, and I don’t feel like I belong in either place. I’m frustrated that my entire life feels like a hot mess. 

And of course I’m really frustrated with my vagina. Why is it broken? WHY!? And why I am not doing anything about it? Sure, I’m seeing a psychotherapist, but once a week doesn’t feel like it’s doing much. We haven’t talked about much at all except how fucked up my family is and how that’s affected who I’ve become. The only thing I’ve discovered is that I’m experiencing and have experienced feelings of shame and guilt. And that I’m an anxious, closed-up human being. Much like my vagina. I know I’ve only gone twice so I shouldn’t expect any more than that, but I feel like my first appointment was ages and ages ago.

And what do I do with all the time in between appointments? Nothing. I sit here and whine about it to the very few people that occasionally stumble across this blog who don’t actually read any of it. To those of you who pretend to care and leave a comment or two, thank you. It really means a lot to read those. But I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve emailed my support group, or people whose blogs I’ve read, and have gotten nothing in return. I turned to the internet for some form of comfort in what feels like a very lonely and isolating condition, and here I am realizing that the internet is just as lonely. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own problems to genuinely care about anyone else’s. And all that is very frustrating.

Revelations

I had an epiphany today. It doesn’t really have anything to do with vag, but it’s got a lot to do with my self-betterment, which to me, is synonymous with curing vaginismus. I made up with that friend I talked about a few posts ago, the one who referred me to that awful gynecologist (in her defense, she did not know that she was going to be an awful doctor to me. My friend is “normal” so she’s a great-doctor to her). We’ve had a turbulent 6 year relationship which I thought had ended for good after I said some pretty horrible things to her and cut her out of my life. But alas, good friends always come back and things always work out. I came to the realization that our friendship had become so strained partly due to the fact that I sometimes am a little bit jealous of her. Jealous, because she’s living the life that I wish I had, she has the freedom to enjoy life to the fullest without being tied down by her family (and she can have sex whenever she wants, and enjoys the hell out of it). Although she was partly to blame for our falling out too, I finally admitted to myself that it wasn’t all her fault, and that a lot of it had to do with my attitude. It’s like, literally overnight, this all dawned on me, and I realized I didn’t want to to lose her as a friend. We had a nice long talk over drinks today and updated each other on our lives since we stopped speaking. I told her about vaginismus, and that I finally know the reason why I was never able to have sex or use tampons. When I described all that I’ve gone through since I found out, she started crying and said she couldn’t believe how I was dealing with it. It really touched me to see that reaction because it’s the reaction I’ve been wanting to see that no one had given me. My sister brushed it off and told me not to worry, saying that at least it’s not anything like cancer. My aunt just said that doctors here don’t know what they’re talking about, and that if I went to the doctors in our home country, they’d fix me in a jiffy. She didn’t really understand. My other friends who I’ve told have just acted really surprised that there is a such a thing as this and seemed pretty happy to be talking about something else once I changed the subject. No one has ever expressed concern for how it must make me feel. No one has ever said they feel sorry for me. And I think that’s what I’ve been wanting to hear. I want to hear that it’s OK to feel depressed about it. I was starting to feel like with all the other horrors in the world, I wasn’t allowed to feel like I was suffering. 

In other news, I had my first appointment with my counselor this past Thursday. I’d never been to a counselor before, so I had no idea what to expect, and I have to say, it was a little bit awkward. It’s just strange to divulge so much about yourself to a perfect stranger, and to sit there and analyze how your experiences have had an impact on your life. I didn’t realize I’d be nervous, but I should have figured I would be since I’m always nervous when I meet new people. At one point, I caught myself wringing my hands when I was talking about something. She pointed it out, asked me if I was nervous, and said that if she was asking me anything that made me feel uncomfortable that we could move on to something else. But the fact is, that’s just the way I am. I am so extremely shy and self-conscious that I feel nervous and awkward in situations when most people should feel fine. I also realized that I tend to babble when I’m put on the spot, and lose sight of what it is that I wanted to say. I hope it’s something that gets easier and that I get used to the more I go and see her. The hour that I spent there did go by really fast though, and I found myself wishing our session was a little bit longer. I guess that’s a good sign.

At one point I mentioned something about my fear that this could be some other physical abnormality that I have and don’t know about yet, and she said to me that when we let ourselves get consumed by fear, the body can sort of manifest that physically. That got me thinking about me being shy and nervous all the time, and I’m noticing that I really do get consumed by fear and anxiety a lot, and I find myself really tense and closed-up sometimes, especially in social situations. So it looks like my vaginismus isn’t just about my vagina. It’s something I’m going to need to work on in every aspect of my life.

The ramblings of an anxious mind

I am a ball of anxiety today. I can’t exactly pinpoint the cause, but I’ve been having to take deep breaths all day to calm my pounding heart and this nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels like there’s all kinds of slimy things wriggling around in there. I don’t know if it’s due to the stress of car shopping, or the fact that I have my first appointment with the NP at the Pelvic and Sexual Health Institute on Friday. It might be a combination of the two.

I am absolutely petrified and nauseated at the thought of this visit. Thankfully, my wonderful sister is taking the train down from north Jersey to go with me. That calms down my nervousness a great deal. But no matter the amount of support I’m getting in this, nothing can make me feel better about having to put my feet in stirrups again and being poked and prodded in my most sensitive area. All those horrible memories of my gyno’s office come rushing back every time I think about it. Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten what the pain feels like, but then envisioning the horror that was my last attempted pap, makes me feel the pain almost as clearly as if I was feeling it at this moment. Just the thought makes me feel lightheaded and nauseous and almost brings tears to my eyes. I know that this NP isn’t going to be anything like my gyno. She’s seen women like me many, many times, and she knows what she’s doing. But no amount of reassurance can stop me from feeling so scared.

I definitely need to see a psychotherapist. Or some kind of doctor that’s going to help me make sense of this fear, to help me find the cause for it, and to help me make it go away. This weekend I was reading through some of the bios of the women in my support group, and I remember reading one where the woman said she went to go see a hypnotherapist who helped her discover repressed memories of incest from an abusive older brother. This really scares me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m harboring repressed memories of some kind of abuse when I was little. I can’t imagine anyone in my life who would have hurt me. I can’t even fathom the idea of having memories so horrible that I wouldn’t remember them. But this woman had no idea she had these memories either, so it is possible. I can’t think of any other reason for why I’m so messed up. I don’t think it was the way I was raised either, since my sister and I grew up in the same environment, as did all of my cousins, and they are all perfectly normal, sexual beings. In fact, they talk about their sexual experiences so much, it makes me want to crawl into a hole. I’m one of the oldest ones in my family, therefore I should be the most experienced. But they all see me as “the virgin.” Don’t talk about sex around L, cause she’s innocent. Some of my cousins say they admire me for still being “pure”. But I know that secretly, they all think I’m weird and that I’m probably a lesbian. I can’t help but feel embarrassed whenever the subject of sex comes up. I know these are all irrational thoughts, but I can’t help but think them once in a while. Like I said, I need to see a psychotherapist.

Moving on.

I wrote some things in my personal journal this weekend that I think are relevant to my blog, so I want to post them on here (with some edits):

“I think I’ve been focusing too much on how this “disability” is negatively affecting my attitude on life. How everything eventually comes down to me having vaginismus. How I’m even more scared than ever before to get close to a guy because I’m afraid he’s only going to want sex. And yet I also seem to want a relationship even more than I did before because I feel so very much alone in this. It feels like all of the women in my vag group have a husband, or boyfriend, or fiance that’s helping them get through it. And I have no one. Not even close. And I keep thinking that if I had such a hard time with relationships before I knew I had this, it’s going to be damn near impossible to find one now. But like someone in my group said to me, I can’t let my vag consume my life. And I think that’s exactly what I’m doing. If there’s even the slightest chance that I’ll meet someone new soon, I can’t go into it thinking that my vaginismus is going to ruin it. I shouldn’t really go into it with any expectations. But most of all, I shouldn’t want to overcome this so that I can be “ready” for when I do meet a guy. I should want to overcome this for myself. So that I can feel normal. Feel like a real woman.”