Today I had my third session with my therapist and it felt much more difficult and scattered than the first two sessions. We talked about my life as an artist and what I focus on as well as my personal relationships with some of my family members in regards to how they relate to my choice to be an artist.
At some point my therapist asked me what I wanted to get out of “this” (aka therapy).
Answer: I mostly just discussed the same topics mentioned in my blog post BEGINNING THERAPY. I told her that I want her as my point of constant, professional support as I begin to exam my sexual history and eventually as I move forward with my physical exercises. The more I begin to comprehend the true impact of having vaginismus the more I realize just how many aspects of my life it has altered.
One area is how I physically interact with people even in a non-sexual way. How?
Answer: I sometimes have trouble experiencing things that people might consider to be standard physical interaction. I cannot at all predict when I will feel uncomfortable since it varies so much by how, where, and whom I am being touched. For example I do not enjoy getting massages from anyone. If someone asks if I would like one I always politely decline, and if an acquaintance gives me one without asking I deal through it, but can’t wait for it to end. While I’m not sure exactly why massages make me feel awkward, I think in part I associate them with sexual contact, mostly because of the sounds people make. The sighs, moans, and verbal comments always make me cringe. I realize that a friend giving me a massage is meant as a very kind gesture and that makes me feel like a terrible freak for not enjoying them.
I am generally fine hugging people, putting arms around someone, or holding hands, because these actions feel more tender. As a girl who grew up with all guy friends I am also fine with using fake violence in a playful manner.
So what about when there is a romantic interest in someone? Does this change my comfort level?
Answer: If I am in an established partnership with someone I enjoy physical contact in private, but not generally in public (the dreaded PDA). This comes more from a dislike of putting my relationship on display for other. To me love should not be a secret, but public displays only feel appropriate on specific and special occasions.
If I have unrequited interest in a man, any physical contact can cause very strong emotional reactions in me. If they do anything from hold my hand or hug me often, to kiss me in a moment not intended (usually this has meant drunk), my body registers it as more than it is, even when my mind knows that this is not romance or love. My body just won’t listen and these mixed signals from mind and body (both having access to that other part, which I label the soul or emotions) can often lead to disappointment, anxiety, panic attacks, or depression.
I told my therapist that there are other times, when I don’t expect it, that I will shut down because of a physical interaction. Do I have any examples?
Answer: Indeed I have an extreme example that happened earlier this week during a rehearsal for the physical theater group I am currently working with. The following excerpt is taken directly from my journal, when I wrote about the incident so that I could explain it to my therapist. Please excuse any word choices or grammatical errors as I don’t want to edit myself in order to keep my thoughts as close to the initial reaction as possible (you’ll see I am still very much affected while writing days later).
“Something happened to me this week at training that I want to tell my doctor about. We were doing physical and vocal work which was fascinating, led by a sweet, sweet girl who is a classically trained singer. She came up with a technique that combines yoga, dance, and a form of Chinese energy movement to loosen my body and free the voice. Anyways, I was really feeling it and enjoying the feeling of freedom with safety and protection. We were floating around the room as jelly fish when the leader told us to come together and touch each other. Even writing this makes me feel uneasy. We were rubbing up against each other and I hated it. It took me completely out of the experience. I shut down and started to freak out. It felt dangerous to me. It felt too sexual to me EVEN though that wasn’t intended. I can’t be touched that much. It makes me panic. It makes me want to cry, It makes me think I’m sick because no one else seems to be bothered by it. She then wanted us to pass through each other and I felt trapped. It felt disgusting all these bodies rubbing all over each other. I wanted to leave, to be alone, to protect myself, but I knew that would draw so much attention and maybe ruin the entire experience everyone else was having together. So I didn’t leave. Instead I did my best to stay to the outer edges and ignore the feelings I was having. But I’m a performer, an artist. I should be able to do this. Maybe my artist would, but my soul, my something, my self certainly won’t.
I didn’t feel relieved when it was over. I felt beaten. I felt done. I had checked out. This sort of subsided with time, but not fully.”
To begin with my therapist pointed out that so many people would feel uncomfortable with this, especially many outside the art world. She reminded me yet again that there is no such thing as "normal" physical reactions since everyone has different comfort levels. It made me wonder if it should be commonly accepted in the theater community that actors and dancers always feel comfortable, if not enlightened, by these physical bonding exersizes. Sometimes I do, but in rare cases, like this, it is just to much for me to cope with, and I hope someday to work through why. We determined that what I experience are Dissociative Symptoms, in my case a feeling that my body was acting on its own because the rest of me had left or checked out.
My doctor and I decided that I should only do what makes me feel safe, for the sake of myself and the other performers. Obviously in this case I was perfectly safe, which my mind knew, but my body would not listen and it felt in danger. I plan to talk to my group leader and explain what happened, as well as a little about my personal life right now. I am going to suggest that whenever I feel a similar experience to this week I will simply and quietly pull myself away from the situation.
This is going to be really tough to do, tell someone I only recently met about what I am going through, and maybe if needed the entire ensemble. But this group and those in charge have always seemed very supportive, and I’m sure this will be the case yet again.
Now what does all this have to do with my vaginismus? Good question.
Answer: During a sexual encounter when I experience the physical block of vaginismus, I can sometimes experience Dissociative Symptoms. I always say I “shut down” and my body and mind, since they cannot agree, just stop functioning together. While I understand that these are two separate reactions, I also think they are in ways connected to the fact that my body just does not trust me to protect it. My therapist and I need to examine this further before coming to any conclusions, if we ever reach them, however, for now I plan to give myself the option to step aside to avoid any further damage.
I was right about today’s session feeling a little all over the place. It is difficult to believe we talked over so many topics in less than an hour! I cried quite a bit when describing and explaining things, but my therapist ended by saying that she felt I have really begun to open up certain areas of myself. Before leaving she asked if I would be okay. I was and I am. I took a long walk and wrote this entry, and am finding pride in myself for getting underway.
At some point my therapist asked me what I wanted to get out of “this” (aka therapy).
Answer: I mostly just discussed the same topics mentioned in my blog post BEGINNING THERAPY. I told her that I want her as my point of constant, professional support as I begin to exam my sexual history and eventually as I move forward with my physical exercises. The more I begin to comprehend the true impact of having vaginismus the more I realize just how many aspects of my life it has altered.
One area is how I physically interact with people even in a non-sexual way. How?
Answer: I sometimes have trouble experiencing things that people might consider to be standard physical interaction. I cannot at all predict when I will feel uncomfortable since it varies so much by how, where, and whom I am being touched. For example I do not enjoy getting massages from anyone. If someone asks if I would like one I always politely decline, and if an acquaintance gives me one without asking I deal through it, but can’t wait for it to end. While I’m not sure exactly why massages make me feel awkward, I think in part I associate them with sexual contact, mostly because of the sounds people make. The sighs, moans, and verbal comments always make me cringe. I realize that a friend giving me a massage is meant as a very kind gesture and that makes me feel like a terrible freak for not enjoying them.
I am generally fine hugging people, putting arms around someone, or holding hands, because these actions feel more tender. As a girl who grew up with all guy friends I am also fine with using fake violence in a playful manner.
So what about when there is a romantic interest in someone? Does this change my comfort level?
Answer: If I am in an established partnership with someone I enjoy physical contact in private, but not generally in public (the dreaded PDA). This comes more from a dislike of putting my relationship on display for other. To me love should not be a secret, but public displays only feel appropriate on specific and special occasions.
If I have unrequited interest in a man, any physical contact can cause very strong emotional reactions in me. If they do anything from hold my hand or hug me often, to kiss me in a moment not intended (usually this has meant drunk), my body registers it as more than it is, even when my mind knows that this is not romance or love. My body just won’t listen and these mixed signals from mind and body (both having access to that other part, which I label the soul or emotions) can often lead to disappointment, anxiety, panic attacks, or depression.
I told my therapist that there are other times, when I don’t expect it, that I will shut down because of a physical interaction. Do I have any examples?
Answer: Indeed I have an extreme example that happened earlier this week during a rehearsal for the physical theater group I am currently working with. The following excerpt is taken directly from my journal, when I wrote about the incident so that I could explain it to my therapist. Please excuse any word choices or grammatical errors as I don’t want to edit myself in order to keep my thoughts as close to the initial reaction as possible (you’ll see I am still very much affected while writing days later).
“Something happened to me this week at training that I want to tell my doctor about. We were doing physical and vocal work which was fascinating, led by a sweet, sweet girl who is a classically trained singer. She came up with a technique that combines yoga, dance, and a form of Chinese energy movement to loosen my body and free the voice. Anyways, I was really feeling it and enjoying the feeling of freedom with safety and protection. We were floating around the room as jelly fish when the leader told us to come together and touch each other. Even writing this makes me feel uneasy. We were rubbing up against each other and I hated it. It took me completely out of the experience. I shut down and started to freak out. It felt dangerous to me. It felt too sexual to me EVEN though that wasn’t intended. I can’t be touched that much. It makes me panic. It makes me want to cry, It makes me think I’m sick because no one else seems to be bothered by it. She then wanted us to pass through each other and I felt trapped. It felt disgusting all these bodies rubbing all over each other. I wanted to leave, to be alone, to protect myself, but I knew that would draw so much attention and maybe ruin the entire experience everyone else was having together. So I didn’t leave. Instead I did my best to stay to the outer edges and ignore the feelings I was having. But I’m a performer, an artist. I should be able to do this. Maybe my artist would, but my soul, my something, my self certainly won’t.
I didn’t feel relieved when it was over. I felt beaten. I felt done. I had checked out. This sort of subsided with time, but not fully.”
To begin with my therapist pointed out that so many people would feel uncomfortable with this, especially many outside the art world. She reminded me yet again that there is no such thing as "normal" physical reactions since everyone has different comfort levels. It made me wonder if it should be commonly accepted in the theater community that actors and dancers always feel comfortable, if not enlightened, by these physical bonding exersizes. Sometimes I do, but in rare cases, like this, it is just to much for me to cope with, and I hope someday to work through why. We determined that what I experience are Dissociative Symptoms, in my case a feeling that my body was acting on its own because the rest of me had left or checked out.
My doctor and I decided that I should only do what makes me feel safe, for the sake of myself and the other performers. Obviously in this case I was perfectly safe, which my mind knew, but my body would not listen and it felt in danger. I plan to talk to my group leader and explain what happened, as well as a little about my personal life right now. I am going to suggest that whenever I feel a similar experience to this week I will simply and quietly pull myself away from the situation.
This is going to be really tough to do, tell someone I only recently met about what I am going through, and maybe if needed the entire ensemble. But this group and those in charge have always seemed very supportive, and I’m sure this will be the case yet again.
Now what does all this have to do with my vaginismus? Good question.
Answer: During a sexual encounter when I experience the physical block of vaginismus, I can sometimes experience Dissociative Symptoms. I always say I “shut down” and my body and mind, since they cannot agree, just stop functioning together. While I understand that these are two separate reactions, I also think they are in ways connected to the fact that my body just does not trust me to protect it. My therapist and I need to examine this further before coming to any conclusions, if we ever reach them, however, for now I plan to give myself the option to step aside to avoid any further damage.
I was right about today’s session feeling a little all over the place. It is difficult to believe we talked over so many topics in less than an hour! I cried quite a bit when describing and explaining things, but my therapist ended by saying that she felt I have really begun to open up certain areas of myself. Before leaving she asked if I would be okay. I was and I am. I took a long walk and wrote this entry, and am finding pride in myself for getting underway.
Questions or comments about this entry? Feel free to contact me! mailto:healingvaginismus@gmail.com