When I awoke in my drowsy state I didn’t know where I was, but I also wasn’t at all concerned by this fact. It was pretty quiet apart from a few mumbled voices that I didn’t try to make out, and soft christmas music played from the speakers above. I was perfectly contented in a way of not being entirely aware. After a few minutes I tried to sit up a bit and that is when I experienced a sharp pain inside my groin area and realized I was wearing what felt like a diaper. Where, why, and how came rushing back to me and for the moment I lied back down, wondering if they had found it necessary to operate and assuming they did judging by what I had just felt. However, the thought did cross my mind that this pain might just be a cause of my usual symptoms intensified by the physical examination.
My time in recovery is very fuzzy, I have no idea how long I was there and who told me what. I was informed at some point that they had removed portions of my hymen, and that because of the surgery I would need to take it easy for the next month; no sexual activity, no shaving, waxing, scrubbing too hard, etc. My body needed time to heal so that the stitches would fall out on their own. My initial reaction to this news was:
My boyfriend, T, spent that Christmas with my family and it was not the best of holidays. I had worked very hard over the previous months to get him 10 stocking gifts and 2 large presents, so that he would have as many beautiful gifts as the rest of my family. I wanted this first holiday with my family to be special for him, but after the surgery (which I thought would be no big deal), I was just constantly exhausted and uncomfortable. I experienced a stinging sensation when urinating and the first time was such a surprised that I yelled out in pain. I slept so much and worked so hard to get everything prepared, but I wasn’t myself and I wasn’t much fun to be around. In planning, I had thought Christmas at home would be a a perfect time to relax and recover, but in practice it ended up wearing me out and bringing down those around me.
Luckily a month later, after returning to New York, I was feeling much better and looking forward to my follow up appointment and getting the permission I needed to go on birth control. I was so hopeful that I was fixed of all problems, and would soon be able to have sex with T.
At the follow up I was happily blabbering away on the examination table, and my doctor didn’t feel it necessary to tell me that she was starting the examination and putting her finger inside me. I was relaxed and distracted, until my body felt what was happening and everything inside me clamped down on that foreign object, as though the muscles were trying to trap it. I had absolutely no control over what my body was doing and I panicked because I had never knowingly experienced this before. My gynecologist had to talk me through the experience, telling me to, “relax,” and “breath,” explaining that if I focused and calmed my mind I could get the muscles to relax. This took a few minutes, but eventually my vagina let go and she was able to remove her finger very slowly and carefully. I now know that if she had yanked out the finger during this tightness it would have been extremely painful, and I am grateful that she had patience. After it was all over, I had not idea what to think or feel.
My doctor, in a very matter of fact way, informed me that I had healed from my surgery, but that I had a disorder called vaginismus and reeled off some medical definition. This had been the real source of my pain for longer than I can remember. She told me it was a simple disorder to fix, gave me a small packet or information, and told me to use tapered candles to insert in my vagina. I was so confused. She asked if I had any questions, but I had so many that none of them had formed yet. I had never heard of this disorder and I was supposed to be cured from the surgery as far as I was concerned. The last month now felt like a complete waste and I didn’t understand what having a “physiological” disorder even meant! The only thing I managed to accomplish was getting a prescription for birth control pills, clearly not comprehending the altering news I had just received.
I can’t remember leaving the office, but do remember the parking lot walking back to my mother’s waiting car. I was completely numb with confusion. Telling my mom “how it went,” I broke down. I felt thrown off by the doctor that was supposed to be helping me. Tapered candles? Really? You tell me I have suffered from a sexual disorder almost my entire life. That my vagina and mind are damaged and can’t function properly thanks to unknown causes. So stick and candle up there? (I understand now how this could be a cheaper treatment tool for women, but in the moment my doctor’s suggestion and disregard for providing options, lacked a sensitivity I desperately needed).
I would avoid the topic and remain in denial, only mentioning it to my family and closest friends. I couldn’t even remember what the disorder was called at times. I felt completely nuts and that everyone else would think it was all made up. Without knowledge of the disorder I could not really explain it to anyone else in a way that made sense. T took the news in stride, just as confused as I was, but willing to support me in whatever way I needed, willing to wait for something I still wasn’t sure would be possible.
About a month passed before I got up the courage to find out more. Sitting at my little desk in a room that felt like a cave, in a condo I lived in that wasn’t my own, I finally began to search for answers.
Biggest Question: What is vaginismus?
I read a bunch of medical information that started to make sense, but felt very distant. Nothing felt real in that language. Then on vaginismus.com I found short paragraphs by other women who had the disorder, explaining briefly what they had experienced. This is when it really sunk in. These women were me. Their stories made me cry, because they allowed me to finally understand vaginismus in a real way. I wasn’t alone and this wasn’t something made up. I cried so much that day, knowing deep down that I finally had some answers to years of physical and emotional pain. These women allowed vaginismus to become a conscious part of me, that I could recognize and live with.
Those stories also provided me with hope, through real information about healing, over and over again. This was something that could be fixed with effort and patience. I ordered a set of dilators. They were plain, white, simple and created for helping women with vaginismus. there was no way was I going to use candles. I thank my OBGYN for the diagnosis, but I owe more to the internet and vaginismus.com or providing me with answers and comfort.
My diagnosis was not an easy process, and took time and many steps, but it was worth it. I was one step closer to having a fully realized sexual relationship with a man I loved. What I didn’t comprehend, and what was more important, was the fact that I was starting on a path toward healing, one that would teach my vagina and body that there was nothing to fear. More important than any one relationship, was me, and learning to trust and empower myself.
My time in recovery is very fuzzy, I have no idea how long I was there and who told me what. I was informed at some point that they had removed portions of my hymen, and that because of the surgery I would need to take it easy for the next month; no sexual activity, no shaving, waxing, scrubbing too hard, etc. My body needed time to heal so that the stitches would fall out on their own. My initial reaction to this news was:
- relief that I had an answer and that after I recovered I would no longer experience pain, allowing me to use tampons and have sex. The end was finally in sight!
- laughter over the fact that I had technically lost my virginity to a surgical knife (a joke I still enjoy at times).
My boyfriend, T, spent that Christmas with my family and it was not the best of holidays. I had worked very hard over the previous months to get him 10 stocking gifts and 2 large presents, so that he would have as many beautiful gifts as the rest of my family. I wanted this first holiday with my family to be special for him, but after the surgery (which I thought would be no big deal), I was just constantly exhausted and uncomfortable. I experienced a stinging sensation when urinating and the first time was such a surprised that I yelled out in pain. I slept so much and worked so hard to get everything prepared, but I wasn’t myself and I wasn’t much fun to be around. In planning, I had thought Christmas at home would be a a perfect time to relax and recover, but in practice it ended up wearing me out and bringing down those around me.
Luckily a month later, after returning to New York, I was feeling much better and looking forward to my follow up appointment and getting the permission I needed to go on birth control. I was so hopeful that I was fixed of all problems, and would soon be able to have sex with T.
At the follow up I was happily blabbering away on the examination table, and my doctor didn’t feel it necessary to tell me that she was starting the examination and putting her finger inside me. I was relaxed and distracted, until my body felt what was happening and everything inside me clamped down on that foreign object, as though the muscles were trying to trap it. I had absolutely no control over what my body was doing and I panicked because I had never knowingly experienced this before. My gynecologist had to talk me through the experience, telling me to, “relax,” and “breath,” explaining that if I focused and calmed my mind I could get the muscles to relax. This took a few minutes, but eventually my vagina let go and she was able to remove her finger very slowly and carefully. I now know that if she had yanked out the finger during this tightness it would have been extremely painful, and I am grateful that she had patience. After it was all over, I had not idea what to think or feel.
My doctor, in a very matter of fact way, informed me that I had healed from my surgery, but that I had a disorder called vaginismus and reeled off some medical definition. This had been the real source of my pain for longer than I can remember. She told me it was a simple disorder to fix, gave me a small packet or information, and told me to use tapered candles to insert in my vagina. I was so confused. She asked if I had any questions, but I had so many that none of them had formed yet. I had never heard of this disorder and I was supposed to be cured from the surgery as far as I was concerned. The last month now felt like a complete waste and I didn’t understand what having a “physiological” disorder even meant! The only thing I managed to accomplish was getting a prescription for birth control pills, clearly not comprehending the altering news I had just received.
I can’t remember leaving the office, but do remember the parking lot walking back to my mother’s waiting car. I was completely numb with confusion. Telling my mom “how it went,” I broke down. I felt thrown off by the doctor that was supposed to be helping me. Tapered candles? Really? You tell me I have suffered from a sexual disorder almost my entire life. That my vagina and mind are damaged and can’t function properly thanks to unknown causes. So stick and candle up there? (I understand now how this could be a cheaper treatment tool for women, but in the moment my doctor’s suggestion and disregard for providing options, lacked a sensitivity I desperately needed).
I would avoid the topic and remain in denial, only mentioning it to my family and closest friends. I couldn’t even remember what the disorder was called at times. I felt completely nuts and that everyone else would think it was all made up. Without knowledge of the disorder I could not really explain it to anyone else in a way that made sense. T took the news in stride, just as confused as I was, but willing to support me in whatever way I needed, willing to wait for something I still wasn’t sure would be possible.
About a month passed before I got up the courage to find out more. Sitting at my little desk in a room that felt like a cave, in a condo I lived in that wasn’t my own, I finally began to search for answers.
Biggest Question: What is vaginismus?
I read a bunch of medical information that started to make sense, but felt very distant. Nothing felt real in that language. Then on vaginismus.com I found short paragraphs by other women who had the disorder, explaining briefly what they had experienced. This is when it really sunk in. These women were me. Their stories made me cry, because they allowed me to finally understand vaginismus in a real way. I wasn’t alone and this wasn’t something made up. I cried so much that day, knowing deep down that I finally had some answers to years of physical and emotional pain. These women allowed vaginismus to become a conscious part of me, that I could recognize and live with.
Those stories also provided me with hope, through real information about healing, over and over again. This was something that could be fixed with effort and patience. I ordered a set of dilators. They were plain, white, simple and created for helping women with vaginismus. there was no way was I going to use candles. I thank my OBGYN for the diagnosis, but I owe more to the internet and vaginismus.com or providing me with answers and comfort.
My diagnosis was not an easy process, and took time and many steps, but it was worth it. I was one step closer to having a fully realized sexual relationship with a man I loved. What I didn’t comprehend, and what was more important, was the fact that I was starting on a path toward healing, one that would teach my vagina and body that there was nothing to fear. More important than any one relationship, was me, and learning to trust and empower myself.