Random Pains

20 04 2009

My va-jay-jay has not been feeling all that well today. Which, in turn, has my pelvic muscles feeling all “clenchy”. Lately, I’ve been feeling some random pains down there that come and go unexpectedly. It’s nothing like the pain that my fellow bloggers who suffer from vulvodynia have described, but it’s enough to make me wonder if everything is OK down there. Well, obviously everything is not OK, but I’m wondering if there’s something else going on besides the involuntary contraction of my PC muscles. I also wonder if I have always felt these random pains without really knowing it, and I’m only just now noticing because of the recent increase in awareness of my vagina? Who knows. All day today I’ve just been feeling an uncomfortable, almost burning sensation in and around the vestibule. Sometimes I feel a strange sensation on the inside. Not quite enough to really bother me, but just enough for me to think, “wait a minute, that doesn’t feel right.” It’s hard to describe. In fact, the feeling is so subtle that I almost wonder if it’s just that my mind is so freaked out, that my body is somehow manifesting that physically. Mind over body? Or it could be that I’m so just goddamn irritated from all the nasty bloody discharge that has been trickling out for nearly two weeks now! Damn Seasonique! You screw up a few days of pills, and you bleed for weeks and weeks.

Besides that pain, in the past few weeks on a couple of occasions, I also experienced some really irritating itching that turned into a burning sensation after some scratching (Haha, yes, I realize I may be sharing too much, but this is my way of keeping a record of these things so that I can remember to tell my therapist and pain specialist about it). That only happened a few times in one week, and hasn’t happened again since. Then, on a few other occasions, at random times during the day, I felt almost like a small pocket of air shooting its way up my vagina, which was really unexpected, and at one point definitely made me go “ow.” Not fun. Sometimes I’ve noticed that shifting the way I was sitting either caused or relieved the pain. Umm, could this just be a simple case of vaginal flatulence?!

But the most random pain of all has got to be this next one. It only happened once, but it was a truly WTF moment for my pelvis. I was walking in the office, when all of a sudden, I felt something like a sharp pressure right on the base of my pubic bone. It wasn’t anywhere near excruciating, but it was enough to make me walk with a sort of limp for a few minutes. Weird, I know. Any ideas?





Today, I Feel BROKEN!

9 04 2009

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!!





Like a broken record…

23 03 2009

Ok, so I guess I’ve been on somewhat of a hiatus lately. I haven’t given up on my journey to a cure (not at all!) but I guess I haven’t had any noteworthy progress to write about. No “yay, I just conquered the first dilator!” or anything remotely close. 4 months and nothing close. But I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. I’ve made lots of progress on an emotional level. In fact, both my sex therapist and my hypnotherapist have told me that I’ve made significant progress in a very small amount of time. I wish I could see it that way! In a way I do, but I just want to get past that damn initial insertion already!

But anyway…

I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s really been upsetting me regarding this vaginismus business. It’s not so much the fact that I feel broken, that I don’t feel like a real woman, or blah blah blah. It’s not so much the lack of sex… well, yeah I guess part of it is that, but I think it’s more of the absence of a potential sex partner that’s got me feeling so bitter and down-in-the-dumps. But to be honest, I’ve felt that way for a really long time. I’ve wanted a boyfriend for as long as I could remember. Ever since I was old enough to like boys (was it around the age of 4? haha). But I’ve never really gotten one. Sure, I’ve hooked up with a ton of guys and had many chances to be with someone. And sure, I was in my first and only real relationship last year and was insanely happy that I’d finally gotten what I always wanted, but I guess it was all a mere illusion. I got a small taste of bliss, and just like that, it was ripped away from me. So I guess I wouldn’t really count that. A real relationship is one in which you feel happy and loved, and safe and secure, and I’ve never had that. It seems to come so naturally and so easily for so many people (even for my fellow vag sufferers… it seems like every goddamn one of them has an oh-so-patient-and-supportive partner), and yet there’s something about me that’s made it impossible for a relationship to come my way. Maybe I want it too badly.

Thinking back to my therapy sessions, I’ve said on a couple of occasions that I naturally feel more comfortable with women than I ever have with men. My therapist finds that interesting, and we both wonder why it is, because I sure as hell don’t know. (It makes me wonder if I really do have some repressed memories of having been abused. What else could explain all this?) I’ve been shy with people for as long as I could remember, but especially so around boys. If I walk past a cute guy at the grocery store, for example, I immediately avert my eyes or look down at the ground. If I catch him looking at me, it sends me into a nervous frenzy, and I feel immediately and mortifyingly self-conscious. I’ve never understood why I feel like that, because I am HOT goddammit!!. I have absolutely no reason to feel insecure and self-conscious when I know I should feel confident and self-assured. But I’m so awkward around boys sometimes, it’s no wonder I don’t attract potential relationships.

The bottom line is that all these emotions are somehow connected to my vaginismus, and it constantly upsets me that because of my vaginismus, I feel like I’m never going to have the confidence or the sexual prowess to attract and hold onto a relationship.

It pains me to look around me and see that women everywhere have normally functioning vaginas and they’re using tampons, and having sex, and being promiscuous, and loving life. Things that normal women take for granted everyday are those things that I can’t have. It also pains me to hear that sex is the one thing that men love the most. Great and frequent sex is a man’s ultimate happiness. I can’t have a conversation with a co-worker, or watch TV, or read a magazine without seeing or hearing about S-E-X. Sex is one of life’s great pleasures… Sex is the ultimate act of love… sex sells… without great sex, you can’t have a great relationship… sex this and sex that. How am I supposed to feel self-assured and confident in myself if I’m being told left and right that I’ll never be loved and appreciated, that I’ll never be a whole human being, unless I am capable of having sex?

Are you ready for some angry bitterness?

The other day I was watching a TV show in which one of the characters has a major crush on her neighbor. This girl is the ultimate symbol for pathetic. She would stand at her door and listen for her neighbor to come home from work so she could walk out in the hallway and give him one of her homemade lasagnas and gush like a little girl about how great he is. He is way too hot for her, first of all, and second of all, it doesn’t seem like he’s into her stalkerish tendencies. Well somehow she ends up hanging out with him in his apartment one day, and oh, what a surprise, they end up having SEX! (The scene would not have been complete without her moaning her appreciation, by the way.) And now miraculously, the very hot neighbor ends up falling for semi-unattractive stalker chick, just because her vagina felt great wrapped around his penis. You try and tell me that if she hadn’t fucked him (as so many people like to say these days), he would have fallen for her anyway… Riiiiight.

Looks like I’m screwed… Oh wait, no… I’m not. [Insert bitter chuckle here].





Frustrated

17 02 2009

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.





Q-Tips, Therapists and Vaginas

2 02 2009

I wish I had my own office at work. Or at least a soundproof cubicle. It’s really hard to pick up the phone to call a psychosexual therapist when your co-worker is sitting inches away in the next cubicle in an abnormally quiet office. No detail of your life goes unheard of.

But anyway, let me backtrack.

I went on my first appointment at the Pelvic and Sexual Health Institute this past Friday. It’s the first time I’ve felt BETTER after leaving an appointment than I felt going in. Granted, it didn’t go so well in terms of the exam itself, but it was great to finally meet someone who knew what she was talking about and completely understood my feelings. Having my sister with me really helped to calm the anxiety too. I barely thought about the appointment the night before. In fact, I almost FORGOT I had an appointment. No tossing and turning all night worrying.

I got there and did the standard stuff. Signed in, paid my ridiculously expensive co-pay, filled out some paperwork and was interviewed by a nurse/secretary. Positive aspect #1: she didn’t look at me like I was a medical mystery, AND she asked my sister about the book she was reading. This sparked a whole conversation on the amazingly addictive Sookie Stackhouse Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris. Turns out she’s a big fan of True Blood, and had no idea the show was based on a series of books. I was kind of glad she had given me something else (and fun) to talk about. But back to my vagina…

The anticipation (and the WAITING) has got to be the worst part of any doctor’s visit. After having felt unusually relaxed, I started to really think about where I was, and what I was doing there, and the anxiety just hit me like a tidal wave. I spent what seemed like the next half-hour or so holding my head in my hands and breathing in and out while my sister blissfully read away. She couldn’t believe how hard my heart was pounding. No amount of deep breathing could calm me down. Finally, the nurse practitioner came in, smiled brightly and asked me how I was doing. I liked her immediately. Her personality exuded genuine niceness. She went on to ask me all the usual questions and explained to me what she would be doing. She seemed to understand my phobia without me even having to emphasize how scared I was, which I really appreciated. She described the Q-Tip test to me, making sure to stress the fact that she would not be attempting any penetration unless I was ready for it. The Q-Tip test consists of the NP touching different parts of the vulva with a Q-Tip to test for pain. If all went well, and I felt no pain, she then would try to insert part of the Q-Tip so that she could test for any other possible physical causes of pain. After all that, she instructed me to strip from the waist down, and her and my sister left the room.

As I sat on the examining table with a sheet over my legs, I felt the anxiety getting worse. I told myself to relax, that there was no reason to panic because there wasn’t going to be any unnecessary poking and prodding. Telling myself to relax never works. By the time she came back into the room, I was still a nervous wreck. I took deep breaths, put my feet in the stirrups and laid back, nearly hyperventilating. She talked to me very soothingly and touched the Q-Tip to my inner thigh. My reaction was a panicked gasp. Almost immediately, I felt the urge to close my legs and sit-up. But I kept taking deep breaths, telling myself that there was no pain. She then touched the Q-Tip a little closer to the vulva, around the pubic mound. More gasping. When she touched the vestibule area, my level of panic reached an all-time high and then I started to cry. I wasn’t sure if I felt pain or just tenderness, or if my fear of pain led me to believe it was there. All I know is that I was too panicked to give her a coherent response, and that was the end of the exam. In between my crying and my apologizing for being so emotional, she told me that I seem to have the classic signs of vaginismus, pointing out how my breathing became shaky and my face flushed even before she touched me. Then she went on to give me an overview of how sometimes the brain can perceive signals as pain, even if it’s not really there, or something to that effect. Basically telling me that I wasn’t a freak and that I shouldn’t blame myself for feeling this anxiety. She suggested that I go see a sex/psychotherapist to try and figure out the cause of my anxiety, before she attempts any physical evaluation or treatment. I completely agreed with her, since this is what I thought I needed all along, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that I could put off any physical invasion of my body for at least a few more months. So she gave me the number to the Institute for Sex Therapy at Council for Relationships (which is conveniently located on the floor right above my NP), I thanked her for being so great, and then I left to go have a fun day with my sister.

So, when I finally got a few seconds alone in the office today, I called the sex therapists, and it turns out they don’t take health insurance! [Insert exclamation of incredulity here]. And unfortunately, the sex therapy specialist my NP wanted me to see costs at least $150 an hour. Well there goes my plan of buying a new car. Fortunately, they charge on a slide fee scale, which means that what you pay is based on your income. Also, they have interns available who work under the supervision of the senior staff who cost a lot less. I have an appointment with one of them this Thursday, so I’m hoping it works out, and that she has had enough training to be able to help me. We’ll see how that goes.

In other news, I found my vagina today! I spent the last 24 years of my life convinced there couldn’t possibly be a hole down there, but sure enough, there is!





First PT Appointment. Sort of.

15 01 2009

Ok. Now that I’ve gotten my head together and feel a little better about everything, I will try to describe my appointment with my physical therapist. Of course, with my bad memory and it now being 2 days after the fact, I’ve probably forgotten a lot of details.

I went in having absolutely no idea what to expect. When my gyno had told me to go see this person, she didn’t give me any details whatsoever. She didn’t even tell me that she was a physical therapist. I found that out on my own after finding a listing on the internet. (Side-note: the more I talk about my gyno and notice that everything I say about her is negative, the more I realize that maybe I should start looking for a new gyno. She’s not very receptive of my feelings, she didn’t take the time to sit me down and explain what was going on with me, she didn’t try to calm me down, and she wasn’t very gentle at all- she jammed her finger in me even after I shouted and cried that it hurt).

But back to the PT appointment. I walked into the waiting room and noticed that there was a type of exercise room at the far end of the hall, with treadmills and elyptical machines, that sort of stuff. So this was definitely a general physical therapy type of place; you know, where they exercise your legs, or your arms, or your back. You wouldn’t walk in there and think “someone in one of these rooms is getting her vagina stretched out right now.” They gave me some paperwork to fill out. One of the papers asked a bunch of questions about my medical history, what kind of meds I was on, and then it asked what my injury was. After some consideration, I put in “N/A”. What would it have looked like if I had written “broken vagina”?

At this point, an old man in sweats walked past me. Everyone who went in and out of that place was dressed in exercise clothes, even the therapists. I felt very overdressed in my work pants. Good thing I was wearing comfortable shoes at least.

After I waited for what seemed over a half hour, a pretty, young woman came up to me and introduced herself as Amy, my therapist. I had expected a middle-aged heavy-set lady for some reason. I was happily surprised. She would be much easier to talk to. She led me into one of the rooms and told me to have a seat on the massage-table-looking thing in the middle of the very small, dimly lit room. It felt like a room in someone’s home, rather than a doctor’s office, which was really nice. She sat on a stool in front of me, and I had to look down at her while I answered her questions, which felt kind of strange, but relaxing at the same time. She asked me how old I was, and some other questions about my health which slip my mind at the moment. This is where my memory starts to get hazy. We eventually got on the topic of why I was there, and I told her that I had first tried to use a tampon years ago, and that it started to hurt before I had even gotten it like half an inch in, so I freaked out and never tried again. Then I told her about my many attempts to have sex, and how it would start hurting the second he started trying to push it in. “He” being my ex-boyfriend. It brought back painful memories of him when she asked me approximately when it was that I had tried. Then I told her about my very painful and traumatizing visits to the gyno, and how the second time was worse than the first. I told her about the diagnosis I’d gotten, and that I was told to start taking amitriptyline (amitriptyline is a tricyclic antidepressant, which I’ve read is sometimes prescribed to women with vulval pain disorders, although it’s not proven that it works… great). She then told me a little about the pelvis, and the muscles in that area, and how the muscle spasms can cause pain upon penetration. She also showed me a model of the pelvis and pointed out where the muscles are located. She then flipped through a book of the human anatomy and showed me some diagrams of what the vulva looked like. I wasn’t surprised by what I saw, because I’ve seen many diagrams of what it should look like down there, and have even seen actual pictures (it is GROSS!), but for some reason I can’t get up the nerve to look at my own damn vagina. I then asked her if she was familiar with vaginismus, and when she nodded, I told her that I think that’s what I may have. She immediately shook her head and said “that may not necessarily be it.”

This is the part that really frustrates me. She was so quick to discount the possibility of vaginismus without even really asking me why I thought I had it, or asking me what symptoms I have that could point to it. Isn’t that what my “pelvic floor dysfunction” is? Muscle spasms causing pain upon penetration, a.k.a. vaginismus? Not to mention extreme fear of penetration. Vaginismus, hellooo. I’m not incontinent, I don’t have problems with my bowels, and I don’t have any other type of pelvic pain, which are other typical symptoms of pelvic floor dysfunction, so how can she be so quick to assume that that’s what I have, and discount vaginismus so quickly?! It’s the only thing that makes sense to me!

Rant over.

After that, she asked me if my gyno had explained to me or given me an idea of what she would be doing with me, and I told her that I had no clue. She told me that she would insert her finger and manually stretch out the muscles around the vagina, and then she said some stuff about certain pressure points in there that can be more tense than others. After hearing the word “insert”, you could see the blood leaving my face. I thought I would SLOWLY be introduced to insertion, once I learned to relax the muscles through external means… or something! Anything other than “insert finger”! While all these thoughts were flying through my brain, Amy was still talking. I tried to collect myself and listen to what she was saying. She was telling me that they also use a process called “biofeedback“, which I had already heard of, thanks to the wonders of the Internet. She explained that it’s basically a machine that can “read” your muscle movements, and it electronically tells you whether your muscles are relaxed or contracted. One type of biofeedback machine has a vaginal probe. I don’t like the word “probe”. She told me the probe is a bit large, so that wouldn’t be an option for me right now. I breathed a sigh of relief when she said that. According to the stuff I’ve read online, it uses a “small” probe. I guess it would be small to normal women, but to me, any probe is way too big, no matter how small. Good thing Amy understands that anything with a probe isn’t going to be touching me any time soon. She said there’s also another type of biofeedback machine that uses sensors similar to the ones they use on heart-monitoring machines. That sounds much better to me.

Unfortunately for me, she said she would have to start off with the finger insertion, which I didn’t like at all. I tried to explain to her how much it hurt when my gyno inserted her finger, and even though she assured me she would be much more gentle than any gyno ever was, I was still not reassured. I told her that I have an extreme fear of penetration, and I don’t know the cause of my phobia, and that I wasn’t sure if I would need psychological counseling or not. I basically just started babbling, because I really really didn’t want her to do it. She then told me that she would prefer to refer me to a vulvar pain specialist, because if there’s a physical problem, then that would need to be treated first, before I could even think of therapy. She referred me to a nurse practitioner at the Pelvic and Sexual Health Institute of Philadelphia. I was actually relieved to hear there was such a place. These people would have to know what’s wrong with me, and how to treat it. Amy also told me that the institute has counselors available if I felt that I needed to address any psychological issues. She stressed that patients need to be mentally ready for physical therapy. Upon hearing that, I lost hope. I feel like I’m never going to be mentally ready.

Thankfully, although Amy couldn’t help me right now, she was extremely helpful, telling me that she would personally speak with my gyno to explain my situation, and that she would contact the nurse practitioner at the Institute and speak to her about me before I went in. She also told me to keep in touch with her about when my appointment is so that we could work out a time to go back and see her to begin therapy. And she told me to do it soon because healing this takes time. But why do I have to rush? I have no boyfriend to speak of. So why do I have to rush to get something in my vagina when there’s no hope of a potential penis to enter it anytime soon? “Vaginismus and lack of sex is not cancer. There should be no rush to treat it.” [Vaginismus Awareness Network]

Nevertheless, I called the Institute today to make an appointment. I’m still waiting to hear back from them as to my insurance coverage. They had me fax over my insurance ID card so that they could verify my coverage before I made an appointment. I’m actually glad for that because I was so worried that they either didn’t take my insurance, or that my insurance wouldn’t cover their services and I would get hit with surprise bills later. I’m keeping my fingers crossed because these people are my only hope!





Damn vagina!

13 01 2009

My appointment was today. I was so nervous about it that last night it took me like an hour to fall asleep cause I couldn’t stop crying. Tonight, I don’t know if I feel any better. I’m back at square one. Apparently, I’m not “mentally ready” for physical therapy just yet. But right now, my mind is too overwhelmed, frustrated, and confused to form a coherent post on the details of my appointment. So that will have to wait til tomorrow.

P.S. My vagina must have known that I had an appointment today because it retaliated. I’m on the birth control pill, Seasonique, so I normally only get my period every 3 months. According to my pill pack, I’m not supposed to get my next period until 3 weeks from now, but this morning I woke up with cramps and spotting. Leave it to my vagina to tell me that it does not want to be examined.





Step One

8 01 2009

Yesterday, I FINALLY got the courage to pick up the phone and call the therapist that my gyno referred me to. I was supposed to go sometime in the middle of December, but I was way too scared to even make the call. For a long time, I felt too depressed after finding out that I was a defective woman, that I wanted to forget I had this and go on with my life as usual. I’m really glad I joined the support group though, otherwise I would be a miserable wreck everyday and would avoid my problem forever.

My appointment is for Tuesday. I didn’t realize how soon that was and wanted to call her back and yell “never mind, that’s too soon!!” But it’s better to just get it over with, right? I have no idea what to expect though. From the conversation I had with the secretary, the place I’m going to seems like a general physical therapy place. Which means they may or may not be familiar with my condition. My gyno referred me to a specific therapist, so I’m assuming she has to know what she’s going to be dealing with. The secretary said that the first visit would be a general evaluation, so it would take one hour, and subsequent visits would probably be around 20 minutes or so. So I asked her if she can give me an idea of what the evaluation entails, and she says to me, “Well which general body part are we going to be working with here? Leg, arm, back?” 

“Uhh, noo, it’s my vagina.” *small chuckle*. I can already tell here that I’m gonna have to start getting really comfortable with saying the word “vagina” out loud. And I’m sure numerous other uncomfortable words as well. Sigh.

Anyway, she told me they would likely talk to me for a while and ask me some questions, and then they would probably examine me. At which point my breath caught in my throat. I will NOT have someone poking and prodding down there without proper preparation. And I am NOT properly prepared. I’m assuming that after the Q&A, the therapist is going to realize just how severe of a case I am, and she’ll be slightly more sensitive to the fact that I am not ready to have someone jam a finger, or anything else for that matter, up a tiny opening that does not want to be penetrated. Cause let me tell you, it fucking hurts like someone is stabbing me in the vagina. And I’m pretty sure that my last visit to the gyno made my vaginismus even worse, because now I’m even more terrified than before of spreading my legs open for a doctor. 

So, I guess we’ll see how step one of “Conquer the Vag” goes.








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