You want me to do WHAT with that?!?!

I honestly don’t remember much about my consultation or first physical therapy session. It’s been going on for so long now that it’s simply a part of my life. A part that I hope will be over sooner rather than later, but it is what it is.

The first day I went to consult with my physical therapist, she showed me a model of the pelvis and explained the different muscles and how they connected and worked. Then she said if I felt comfortable, we could do an initial pelvic exam. Nothing says “fun” like having to explain your sex life (or lack of one) to a total stranger and then get naked from the waist down so that they can examine you. Yeah, I think that’s right about the time I lost my filter on discussing all sorts of things and lost any inhibitions I might have had about allowing a stranger to see me naked (at least in a clinical setting). And vulnerable. Let’s never underestimate the level of vulnerability that goes along with a situation like this. But my therapist was (is) nice and it was either trust her or never solve my problem, so I voted in favor of trust and have certainly been proven right.

Thankfully, physical therapy has been helpful to me physically, but also a reason to laugh a ridiculous amount. As a friend of mine said, who suffers from vaginismus and a dermatological condition called lichen sclerosus, (which I actually think I was diagnosed with about 20 years ago) “you get to know someone pretty well when they are all up on your hoo ha”. Since that friend is also a doctor, I guess that means “hoo ha” is, in fact, a medical term. Use it as you will. But back to the laughter…my PT and I laugh ourselves silly sometimes during physical therapy. I’ve shed tears a time or two, but never in the office. We really laugh through PT in the office. Thank God!!

Looking back, however, I can’t imagine how I was ever convinced that this was a good idea. I mean, let’s break it down here. You are in a clinical setting, although it’s set up like a spa room for relaxation purposes with low lighting and soothing colors and paying someone to stick a hard object into your vagina. Depending on the severity of someone’s condition, this can be excruciatingly painful, no matter how hard you try to relax. I was given a set of breathing and relaxation exercises to work on outside of PT sessions, but that doesn’t mean the nerves won’t get you. If you are experiencing pain when something is inserted in your vagina, it’s hard for your mind and body not to have the instant reaction of tensing up when that is attempted.

No one is asking, but here is exactly what is used for the physical therapy. This is a medical dilator set that can be purchased on Amazon.com (and other places, obviously). This is the model that is used by my physical therapist and I have this set at home as well. And yes, they practice safe sex in the therapy office since the dilator always wears a condom. J

This photo was taken from Amazon.com's listing for this dilator set.

This is not the set that is initially recommended by my therapist, which is why I have 2 sets. She tells all her patients about this dilator set since it only costs about $25.

I have both sets because they differ in sizing and if I was going to be able to do the same PT at home that we did in the office, I wanted to have comparable sizes.

I’ve said to many people and I hope it is obvious that there is nothing sexy or erotic about this. Nothing whatsoever. I don’t enjoy pain and had zero interest in the “50 Shades of Grey” books. Pain isn’t fun. It isn’t sexy. It’s pain, plain and simple. Which leads me to another extremely important component of physical therapy – the use of copious amounts of personal lubricant. But that’s a story – many funny stories, actually – for another day. Right now I’m focused more on the dilator sets. And so are you, most likely, since I’ve made you look at pictures.

This physical therapy is something I will always have to do, even when I’m released from office visits. In order to keep the vaginal muscles working well, they have to remained stretched out and this is going to be the best way of keeping them like that. That’s also why I bought the white set of dilators – it’s an investment since I know I’ll be using them more than a few months. I’m fortunate that I can afford to do that. I’m fortunate that I can afford to have the physical therapy that my body needs. I’m fortunate that I’ve got people who are supportive of what I am doing, even if they most likely would prefer NOT knowing about everything happening #allupinmyvagina.

I’m not sure if I have a twisted sense of humor or if things that happen really are funny. I’ve had the dilator fall on the floor. I’ve had the pieces separate while I was using them (still haven’t figured out how that one happened). At least twice the condom has shot across the room while the physical therapist was trying to put it on the dilator. I think we laughed so hard we cried the first time it happened. You can’t make this stuff up.

Twice I’ve even allowed an undergrad PT student to sit in during a session, always on the side where they couldn’t see anything, mind you. I tell them about how I came to be in therapy, what it feels like and how my body reacts during a session; I’ll pretty much answer any of their questions as long as they are interested in learning and not freaked out by the kind of physical therapy that is going on (and they are always female).

I suppose my mantra or my theme for all this is that you can either laugh or you can cry. I continue to choose laughter and am grateful for all the ridiculously funny moments that happen in this journey. We laugh every single time and maybe in this case, laughter truly is the best medicine. ‘Cause, y’know, nobody offered me valium, so…

The scariest thing that happened last year

A lot happened in my life last year, not just my medical diagnosis. I started buying (and wearing) dresses. Lots and lots of dresses. Mostly blue, which is only strange because my favorite color is purple. But I can rock the blue and so I do. (Bad rhyming is quite deliberate, I assure you.) I tried to be more social, which is always a challenge for me. I auditioned for (and was cast in) a play. Ummm…I’m sure I did other things. I must have.

I’ve given this some thought, however, and there is one thing that is overwhelmingly frightening about the past year and this entire experience with vaginismus…the fact that at some point I let a man see me naked.

Nothing scared me quite so much this past Halloween season as the fact that I let The Guy see me naked. I apologize for putting the vision of me naked in anyone’s head, so it’s ok. Scream and get it out of your system. I can wait. *pausing to put in ear plugs to avoid actually hearing the screams of the masses*

When I stop and give ANY thought whatsoever to this, I'm slightly traumatized. Oh, not because we were naked – that happened so fast I’m not sure I realized it until my clothes were off – but because I’m not sure how the sight of my large, white derrière didn't blind The Guy for life.

I don’t know anyone who seems really comfortable with someone seeing them naked for the first time. Maybe those people exist and I may even know some of them, but I can’t name names (because most sane people do not talk about this kind of thing). Allowing someone to see you that way is allowing yourself to be very vulnerable. You are literally putting it all out there without being sure how the other person is going to react.

Of course, if you are in a romantic moment, then one can assume that the other party is going to react in a positive manner or, at the very least, be so caught up in the moment that they don’t react in a negative manner. Once again, since The Guy seems to still be alive and well with all vision intact, I’m going to assume he survived any possible trauma.

Does it really matter what someone else thinks? Well, sure it does! Nobody wants to believe they were found lacking and certainly, if anyone treats you that way it’s time to move on. I mean, if you can’t appreciate what you see, I’m not letting you look anymore. It only seems fair.

That said, still…I’m quite surprised I was ok with letting a man – someone who was, in many respects, a stranger – see me naked since it had been a while. Having been involved in community theater since I was a kid, I actually don’t have any big qualms about changing clothes in front of people, male or female. It’s simply doing what needs to be done to get the show on the road. But taking every stitch of clothing off my body and letting someone look at it? Well, yeah…it still kind of freaks me out.

But I recovered and I’m better all around for the experience. What another person thinks of my body isn’t nearly as important as what I think of it and I’m quite proud of my body. Oh, I have NO plans to run around showing it off to anyone. I am infinitely more modest that one might assume. But I know how hard I’ve worked to lose weight and tone up places. I have more places that need some toning up, but I’ll get there and if I don’t? Well, so be it. Plus, I conquered the fear of letting a man see me naked. Heck, I might even consider doing it again some time. And that, my friends, is what I think we can call body confidence.

BBC Article on Women and Painful Sex

I was pleasantly surprised to see this article on the BBC Facebook page when I woke up this morning. Aside from some ignorant comments - sadly, mostly from women - the comments were enlightening as they show just how many women there are who suffer from some form of painful sex problem.

Sex is painful for nearly 1 in 10 women, study finds

Ok. Now when does the funny stuff start happening?

I decided to start this blog on kind of a whim, I suppose, but also because I wanted to be able to put the stories I tell some friends into a more public forum with the hope that some people may find them funny and also that perhaps they will find them helpful. Maybe even inspirational, though I’d beg to differ if anyone ever called me that. Let’s go with “supportive” as possibly a better word.

Maybe folks will read this and maybe they won’t. I will likely never know, but I’ll have put metaphorical pen to paper and shared my journey. Plus, my friend Ruby will totally laugh. I think I collect most of the stories for her benefit. I’m grateful to have an appreciative audience and a supportive one as well. Goodness knows I’m full of enough nonsense and if I’m lucky, perhaps a little good sense as well. Time will tell.

When I first publicly shared my story in a blog with a link posted to Facebook (and at last count, the entry had nearly 650 page views, which is so cool), a friend of mine created the hashtag #allupinmyvagina. Oh, I laughed and laughed and laughed when I saw that. I wish I could remember what I said exactly that prompted that, but I must have said that I didn’t really want to let everyone all up in my vagina. And yet…I kind of am. 

Talking about the problem helps educate people. It makes it less taboo and hopefully someone out there who knows me or knows someone who knows me and has heard about my situation will be able to get the help that they need because they were educated. Because they heard the word “vaginismus” for the first time and looked it up and realized that’s what they are dealing with too. 

Laughing about the problem, well, that’s necessary to me. You either laugh or you cry and I’d much rather laugh. Oh, I have cried now and then because of the frustration or because of the pain, but I laugh A LOT about the whole situation.  I keep threatening to develop a stand-up comedy routine all about this, but we’ll see. I could see it all lending itself to being a monologue or two for some kind of performance, but we’ll see. Right now this blog will work.

I still laugh when I think about the first night I went to The Guy’s house with the intention of having sex. Having sex with a man I had not seen in YEARS and who I had never thought about in that way until a few months prior. Someone I never had known very well and still didn’t, in spite of flirting and texting and sexting. (Yeah, that’s right. I said it. I’ve been sexting. But…y’know…not lately or anything. Which is kind of depressing so I’m going to stop talking about it immediately.) But yet we thought nothing could possibly go wrong with this plan. I’d show up, we’d get naked and have a good time, I’d go home and life would go on.

Bahahahahahahahahahahahahaha 😂😂😂😂😂

I’m sorry. Gimme a minute. I’m going to start crying I’m laughing so hard.

There’s a saying that goes something like, “How do you make God laugh? Tell him what your plans are.” Oh yeah. God was laughing that night. Not in a mean way, but at my naiveté. At the notion that nothing was going to go wrong here. I mean, why would it?? Doesn’t everyone decide to get naked with someone they really don’t know very well? Doesn’t that always end well? Suuuuure it does. Now lemme sell you this bridge I got in Brooklyn.

I could beat myself up about all that, but what’s the point? I’d say “all’s well that ends well”, but it didn’t end well. Not that night. He wasn’t happy. I wasn’t happy. Various parts of our anatomy were definitely not happy. 

But you know what? I’m happy today, right now, as I write this. Because if it hadn’t been for that night nearly a year ago and if it hadn’t been for The Guy (yes, that’s how I’m going to refer to him because if he’s reading this he knows who he is and I can’t say that anyone else needs to but me) I’m not sure when I’d have found out about this problem. So things might not have ended well that night, but they will end well ultimately. Oh, not because we’ll ever be saving sex, because that ship has sailed, but because knowledge is power and I’m going to get this sorted out. And start telling lube jokes the next time I post. Y’all really have no idea how many funny situations can happen due to the use of personal lubrication products. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll stay tuned for future updates. I think it might be worth it.

Free Sex Podcast on Vaginismus

The other morning I woke up to a message from a male (Yay! Men are paying attention!) friend containing the link to this podcast. It's from the Free Sex Podcast which is produced by a couple of married, Christian women and comes from the point of view that the best sex is free, which according to their web site means "free from guilt, shame, or condemnation." They come at it from a perspective of married sex, but don't cast aspersions on anyone sexually active outside of marriage (at least not in the couple of podcasts I've listened to).

I've never heard of this pod cast, but I listened to this on my drive to work that day and it is so spot-on for my experience. I was driving and within the first 3-5 minutes of them starting on the topic, I was going "Yes! Oh my God!! YES!!" (and not for fun reasons, sadly...) out loud in my car. I can't wait to share this with my physical therapist. I think she's going to love it.

Everything they said hit home with me, in particular about how attempting sex in this situation feels like you are hitting a wall. I can't say how it feels for a man, but when The Guy (which is how I shall refer to the male friend I was attempting to have sex with when I discovered this unfortunate situation) was trying to penetrate my vagina, it felt like his penis was hitting a wall. Hard. Painfully hard. I can't imagine it felt good for him either, made worse on each side by the confusion of not knowing what the heck was going on.

From private conversations with friends, I know that many people have a connection to vaginismus, whether they have had issues or someone they know has had the problem. I hope anyone who listens to the podcast finds something beneficial.

Knowledge. Power. All that good stuff.

Because if you can't laugh, you'll cry

I decided to start a new blog without knowing how often I will use it. I don't post that regularly on my other blog, but something pushed me to start this one. I always feel that blogs are vanity projects, so we'll see how this one turns out, but the reason I started it is because I haven't been able to figure out what to do with all the funny (to me, anyway) stories that have been happening as I deal with the diagnosis of vaginismus. I share these stories with some of my friends, but don't really want to make them all social media status updates.

I guess I'm walking some fine line of what I think is funny and what others may think is funny versus offending someone. Maybe I should stop tip toeing around so much and not worry about offending someone and their sensibilities and think more about trying to educate people. Not that I am an expert on vaginismus, mind you. I only know my personal experiences and sometimes, well...sometimes it's just damned funny.

So that's what I want to do with this blog. Share my personal experiences as I go through the therapy to "recover" from this condition (which may well always be with me) and all the funny stuff that happens as I go along. If some folks read it and get a laugh, then that's great. If I educate someone now and then, well, even better.

Follow this link to my initial post about this on my other blog, Blonde Ambition. More to come as I organize my thoughts, but really, if you can't laugh about some things, you're gonna have to cry and I've shed enough tears. I'd rather laugh. Although as Miss Truvy would say, "Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." Sometimes, yeah, it is.