I cried again today

I hadn’t done that in a while (a while being, what, 2 weeks?). At least not due to my “condition”.

This past week I went to a singles mixer that our local radio station was hosting. I didn’t go to necessarily meet guys. I actually wasn’t expecting to really meet anyone worth my time, judging by what I’d heard about their past events. I really just wanted to go to meet the radio show hosts that I absolutely love listening to every morning. So I dragged my non-single sister with me, and lo and behold, I had a fabulous time, I felt more confident and outgoing than I have in a long time, and I did end up meeting someone. And by “meeting someone,” I mean we talked and hung out for a few of hours, he bought me a couple of shots, he got good and drunk and asked if he could kiss me, aaand, I let him… oops. Needless to say, I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere, seeing as he’s 3 years younger than me, is still in college and spends most of his free time drinking, and his facebook page clearly states that he is only looking for friendship and/or random play. But boy, would I love some random play. Unfortunately, my vagina won’t allow it.

Which leads me to believe that maybe my vaginismus is really just my body’s way of protecting me from all of the potential STIs I could have contracted throughout the years during random, drunken encounters. Maybe it’s my body’s way of protecting my heart from getting broken by all these sex-craving jerks who I just can’t resist once I’ve had a few drinks in me. I have a hard time believing it’s the latter, seeing as my tender heart has been broken endless times by jerks who only wanted me for my looks and for nothing else. Like someone on my support group so nicely put it, “Go and find someone who sees you as a person, not sexual gratification.” Maybe that’s what my vagina is trying to tell me.

That still doesn’t stop me from wanting the random play, dammit!

But I diverted from the original intent of this post.

Why did I cry tonight? Because I’m sad that the only thing that’s holding me back from pursuing this guy is the fact that this condition makes me feel so damn insecure. I’m disappointed in myself because I find it pointless to pursue what could be a really fun new fling, only because I feel physically incapable of one.

Sometimes, I like to paint scenarios in my head (I’m a big daydreamer). Tonight, I thought of my friends, who I’m going to be seeing in a few weeks, and I wondered how our conversation would go regarding this guy. They would ask me how it was going, if I’d gone out with him yet, and would start badgering me with “why not”s and “he could be a good time!” And I would get frustrated and cry out, “What’s the point? He’s just gonna go running for the hills when he finds out I can’t have sex! Why can’t you guys stop pretending that I’m just another single girl, and stop glazing over the fact that I’m broken!” And then the tears came.

Dating again?

At my last few therapy sessions, my therapist has been telling me that it seems like I’m closing myself off from meeting new people and really living life. That I’m afraid to get out there because of my “condition”. I didn’t think that was the case, but she may be right. A year and a half ago, long before I knew I had a legitimate medical problem, I pushed my broken vagina out of my mind and didn’t let it run my life. After I was abandoned by an ex, I had finally had enough of meeting drunk jerks at the bar, so I joined match.com. I met a few guys, went on a string of dates, and had the time of my life. My level of self-confidence had reached a new high, and I felt great. But now that I know I’m broken, and can’t just push it out of my mind, my self-confidence has hit rock-bottom.  That, among other things, caused me to just give up dating all together. Well, I decided fuck that, because over the weekend I got a message from a guy on one of those dating sites, and have been talking to him every day since. I have yet to meet him in person, so it’s WAY too soon to tell if this will even go anywhere, but, as usual, this is me getting ahead of myself and pondering everything. So far it’s going great. He seems completely fascinated by me, and I love that he texts me or IMs me everyday. I hate to admit it, but I am pretty giddy. 

And then vaginismus rears its ugly head. In the back of my mind, I’m constantly thinking about what will happen if this goes somewhere. What’s gonna go through his mind when I have to push his hand away from the “happy place” (ha, how ironic) the first time he tries? How long will be it until he tries? What’s gonna happen when I have to push his hand away for the hundredth time? What am I gonna say when he asks me what’s wrong? Then the dreaded question. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you? How come?” How would I possibly even begin to tell him what’s wrong? I know this is completely fucked up, but in a way, I feel like I would almost be deceiving him if I get involved with him. When a guy gets involved with a girl that he likes, he’s expecting that, sooner or later, he’s going to have sex with this girl. He’s not expecting the girl to be sexually dysfunctional. It’s like going to Home Depot to buy a lawn mower, finding one that you really like, only to bring it home and realize that it does a shitty-ass job of cutting the grass. It wouldn’t be fair if you couldn’t go back to the store to return it, would it?

*Sigh*

Let’s Stop with the Bullsh*t

I’ve lost count of the number of times people (other vaginismus sufferers) have told me not to worry about sex. That sex doesn’t necessarily mean penetration, that there’s lots of other ways you can be intimate with someone. I’ve even heard of some women who don’t WANT to work at overcoming their vaginismus, because they have great, fulfilling sex lives without penetration, and don’t feel the need to fix it. Well that’s all good and dandy for them, but I’m sorry, it just doesn’t work for me. At one point, hearing those words used to make me feel better, but not anymore. 

Honestly, how many men am I going to encounter in my life that are going to be OK if I tell them, “by the way, we’re never going to have real sex, I hope that’s OK with you?” I can just see them running for the hills now. Yes, I know that ”real” sex doesn’t have to involve penetration, blah blah blah. But I have a hard time wrapping my head around that. That’s not how society thinks and that’s especially not how men think. Besides, what else am I supposed to think when all I hear about sex is “banging” and “screwing” and “fucking”? You can’t do any of those things without penetration. Unfortunately, that’s just my mind set. I have a hard enough time finding eligible men to begin with. Imagine how much harder it would be if they knew I could never have sex. And if I hear one more person tell me that the right guy won’t care, he’ll want to be with you no matter what, not all guys care about sex… I’m going to scream. First of all, please tell me where to find these guys, because they don’t exist in my world. Second of all, I don’t care how nice a guy is and how much he loves me, he’s going to want sex. Third of all, the women who tell me this are the ones who already have that rare species of man, therefore don’t know what it’s like to feel like the only thing a man sees in her is a wet and squishy vagina. And lastly, at this point in my life, in my mid-twenties, any normal guy I date isn’t going to love me right from the get-go. Chances are, he’s going to want to date a girl he can bang every now and then, before he decides he’s in love with her. Maybe there’s a slight chance that if I cook him some amazing food, he can overlook the penetration-less sex, but guess what. I can’t fucking cook!
 
Moving on.
 
My point is, by choosing not to overcome vaginismus, I feel like I would be admitting to myself that I’m not normal, and will never be normal, because I’ll never be able to have sex the way most other people do. I’ll never be able to use tampons, or have a pap smear (which, hellloooo, is a crucial part of ensuring your health). And most importantly (well, second most importantly to sex), I’ll never get pregnant or give birth. I know I tell people all the time that I don’t want kids, that I never wanna squeeze a baby out of my vagina, but, dammit, I want that option. I have spent my entire teenage/adult life feeling isolated, inadequate, and like less of a woman. And sugarcoating sex or relationships, or telling myself that penetration is overrated, isn’t going to change those feelings. I’m not going to throw in the towel now and accept my situation for what it is.

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!!

All The Single Ladies… (with vaginismus)

I would like to take this opportunity to send a virtual hug to the person on my vaginismus support group who posted this message:

Where are all these kind, understanding and patient guys who aren’t put off by vag? Why do all the ones I meet run off into the distance as soon as I mention it? 

Am I so gawd-darn sexy that all a guy wants to do to me is hump me? Once upon a time I was flattered that a guy wanted to jump my bones but now I’m finding it down right insulting. There’s a human being here. I want to get to know a guy. Why doesn’t a guy want to get to know me?

Do they ever stop to think how they’d feel if THEY had some sort of erectile dysfunction problem and a woman ran off into the distance because SHE wasn’t going to get laid?

Do I live in an area that is heavily populated with moronic jerks?

Is it me? Am I such a horrible person? Am I THAT unlovable?

And I’m sick of my family telling me its time I found myself a nice man and settled down. I’m sick of going to family events and being the only single female there and getting the usual Spanish Inquisition about being single “at my age”.

I just needed to get that off my chest. Thank you for reading this.

Just when I was beginning to feel like I should take a break from the group because I was so sick of feeling like the only single woman with vaginismus, this post comes along to brighten up my feelings. It’s not so much that it makes me feel BETTER to hear that someone else is as frustrated as me, but I think I just needed to hear someone else bitch about all the feelings I’ve been having. After the hundreds of posts from vag sufferers with husbands and fiances and boyfriends, I was beginning to feel like there may be something else wrong with me besides my “broken” vagina. If all those other “broken vaginas” have found understanding penises, then why can’t I? Where’s MY penis!? I can try and blame vaginismus all I want, but maybe  it’s much more than that. Am I just so incredibly hot that when guys meet me all they want to do is bang me? (Ha!) Am I really that uninteresting and simple-minded and incapable of love, that a guy doesn’t want to take the time to look past my body and actually get to know ME and fall in love with ME?

On the plus side, I realize I need to overcome vaginismus on my own terms, and at my own pace. I don’t need some impatient penis at my side constantly wondering when IT’s going to happen. Who needs all that pressure?

You know what would help though? If my grandmother would stop calling me an old maid.

Is Vaginismus My “Godzilla”?

To reinforce all the crap I was feeling in my last post, here’s a nice little quote from a webpage that attempts to define vaginismus: “The treatment of vaginismus is usually a therapy program that includes vaginal dilation exercises using plastic dilators. It is important that the use of dilators proceeds in a systematic progression under the direction of a sex therapist and should actively involve the woman’s sexual partner.”

There you go. I have been told by professionals that it’s important that my road to vaginal normalcy include the active participation of my sexual partner. So, since said sexual partner is non-existent, that means I don’t even have a chance at being “fixed”? I usually turn to the internet for comfort in regards to my “disability” whenever I’m feeling this shitty about myself, but today the internet has failed me. Right now it seems that everywhere I turn, my inability to have sex and the non-existence of a sexual partner is being rubbed in my face. 

This morning when I got to work, I opened my inbox only to find a forwarded email from my roommate titled, “Funny article”. The article? “The Joys (and Hilarious Fumbles) of Sex“. Well, I’m sorry, super-considerate-roomie-who-knows-about-my-vaginismus-and-should-have-known-better, but I don’t find humor in an article whose sole focus is that magnificently wonderful activity that I have never been a part of, because I am PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE of experiencing it! Thanks for rubbing it in my face on a Monday morning.

I guess I’m overreacting, but I don’t know how else to feel. Moving on…

Are there any dream interpreters reading this? Because last night I had another strange nightmare. About Godzilla. Yes, as in the big green monster that terrorizes the streets of Japan. It’s the second time this year that I’ve dreamt about it. The first time, I was in the middle of some unknown city by myself, when all of a sudden, Godzilla pops out of nowhere and starts wreaking havoc. I start screaming and running along with everyone else, but it seems that everywhere I run, the big scary thing is following me. At one point, I find myself on top of some building/parking garage looking out at the city and seeing Godzilla in the distance. At that second, he turns and sees me and starts making his way in my direction. I practically crapped in my pants and started running down the stairs so fast that I was sort of flying. Just then, I woke up (thank god!!). The funny thing is, I was vaguely aware that I was dreaming, so I forced myself to wake up.

Last night I dreamt about Godzilla again. This time, I was with my dad, my sister and my aunt, in some sort of military building. (Don’t ask me how I know this). We were all waiting to get on a plane to take us home, but at the last second I decided to run to the bathroom. On the way back, I noticed that my dad waiting for me, but my sister and my aunt had gotten on a plane and I watched them fly away. Just then there was a big explosion in the distance, and a car blowing up in the building in front of us. I grabbed my dad and started running in the opposite direction. There was a huge crowd of people running and screaming all around us, trying to find a place to hide or to get away. At one point, I ran into a building and realized that I had lost my dad. I started to panic that something had happened to him, and turned around to go back but then I noticed that the monster was getting closer and closer, so I kept running. And just like in the last dream, I ran to the top of one of the buildings, looked out a window, and saw the monster in the distance. When I saw it coming towards me, I turned to the kids that were in the room (I have no idea why there were kids there, or where they came from) and said very calmly, “Kids, we gotta go.” Then I started running, and I woke up. This time I had no idea I was dreaming, but was very relieved to find that I was safe and sound in my bed.

According to dreammoods.com, “to see Godzilla in your dream, signifies feelings of being out of control and that your situation is getting the best of you.” Hmm, interesting…

Like a broken record…

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].

“Let’s play a little game called ‘Just the Tip’…”

I’m starting to lose my interest in updating this blog. I don’t know why. It’s not that I’m giving up on overcoming vaginismus. In fact, I’m feeling more empowered than ever. I think I just go through phases where I need to write a lot about what’s going on with me, and then suddenly I get sick of the thinking and the writing and I need to take a break. But anyway.

I’ve been feeling pretty good the past week. All the crapiness I was feeling in the last post evaporated the day after.  That’s another thing about me. I have unexplainable ups and downs. Lately, I’ve been feeling on the up. I like feeling on the up.

Last week, I took another stab at my homework and was really happy to find that the panic I felt the last time didn’t come back this time. I actually managed to get a very tiny part of the tip of my finger in there! With no panic! And no pain! I was absolutely ecstatic. I still can’t believe that I was actually able to do that. I never thought I would get here. But I did. Tiny baby steps, and I will be able to do this!

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.

Q-Tips, Therapists and Vaginas

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!