After our first time, T and I continued to have sex each night whenever we got the opportunity to spend a few days together. We would try to have as much sex as possible because we weren’t together often, I wanted more “practice,” and because it was exciting now that it was finally an option. I would have to focus on staying relaxed during intercourse, especially when T’s penis would first enter my vagina and whenever I would experience any new sensation. As much as I emotionally trusted T, my vagina and subconscious still needed constant reassurance that sex would not be painful. We would often need to slow down, adjust, or stop, until I was ready to continue.
While each individual time we had sex blurs together in my memories, there are a few important things that where consistent….
1. I couldn’t handle every position. The angles and pressure of penetration in certain physical arrangements would sometimes cause intense sensations and discomfort, making my vaginal muscles clench. This wasn’t always painful and I think many of these positions would have eventually been pleasurable, given more time for my vagina to grow accustomed to sex. How things feel will be different for every woman, in fact finding certain positions more comfortable than others is common for all women, not only the one’s who have vaginismus. For me, if we tried to do it with T in back of me inserting his penis from behind, I would need to stop very quickly. Because of the intensity I would loose control over my vaginal muscles and my vaginismus would step in as the automatic response.
2. We would usually have so much sex over a short period of time, that my vagina would get sore just from the constant friction. I was not accustomed to having sex at all, let alone two to three times a night for days in a row, followed by weeks of nothing at all because of the distance. Even though this soreness was not caused by my vaginismus I was always careful not to continue with penetration if experiencing any pain or discomfort. The sensation was mild, however, the last thing I needed was my disorder saying, “See, I told you sex was painful,” and becoming stronger. T and I had worked too hard at teaching my body and mind that in fact sex is natural, comfortable, and pleasurable.
3. I always felt confident that T would stop as soon as I said enough. This trust was so central to me getting my vaginal muscles to relax and my body to feel safe, without it we would not have been able to make the progress we achieved.
Finally, and I think MOST importantly, the sex was usually not only comfortable but enjoyable. This was a huge revelation for me. I always hoped that sex would be something I enjoyed since my body clearly wanted it (minus the vaginismus) but I was never quite sure what the experience would be like for me. I was relieved that I could reach an orgasm and I was always wanting more than my body could take, and sometimes even more than T could deliver. It was a truly unbelievable time, despite the setbacks of not being able to make my body do everything I longed for. We were having fun and we had made it happen together.
It is probably obvious from the way I write that T and I did not end up staying together. We broke up very suddenly and while I will never know all the reasons why he was done, I don’t believe our sex life was one of them. The final time we were physically together, we had some of the most enjoyable sex up to that point in the relationship, his words called it “the best sex yet.” I was rapidly getting more comfortable, eager, and confident, and I believe he enjoyed himself more and more as he was able to relax about my disorder.
Will the thought always haunt me that maybe it WAS our sex life and my disorder, and I just didn’t realize? Yes. But I must always remind myself that this disorder is a part of who I am and while I want to heal from it, I need to be with someone who can respect and even appreciate the person it has shaped me to be. IF sex was a reason for our break up it was out of my control.
While this blog is focused on the physical side of relationships, there are certain other aspects of any romantic partnership that will effect the sexual life of a couple, and therefore a woman’s experience of vaginismus.
T broke up with me in a fifteen minute phone conversation and we never spoke again (something I insisted upon and he did not argue against). It came as such a shock to me. Only the week before everything had seemed normal, with us talking via Skype and phone as much as possible. We missed each other, but that was nothing new. Months later I found a message I had saved that he left me only two weeks before the breakup, saying that I was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. We had made so many commitments about the future, marriage, family, and forever, and while my logic always knew there was no guarantee, a heart doesn’t often listen to logic. Our break up ripped out the things I thought I could count on.
Here was the man who had stood beside me during recovery from my disorder, who had shown me all the patience and commitment in the world. After our breakup I felt emotionally and physically betrayed. I didn’t want to have sex with anyone else and here he was making that my only choice. He set me “free” before I wanted to be, before I could ever manage to easily have sex with anyone else because my disorder was still a constant physical reality. The thought of having to explain my sexual history to whoever I dated next filled me with dread. Before T, all I had to say was that I was still a “virgin,” and that would either scare off those guys not looking for commitment or make it clear to those who were that sex probably wouldn’t happen immediately. Yes, using the word “virgin” was embarrassing at times, but much more simple than using “vaginismus.” It felt as though he broke us up without real cause and then threw me out into the scary world of dating and sex before I was close to ready.
I know this was not his thought process, but in the height of my grief it was mine. And while I now have a completely different perspective about that time, reliving it in writing recalls how rocked I was by the rejection.
This upset also ushered my vaginismus back in full force. Our breakup showed me just how connected my experience of sex and vaginismus is to my emotional well being and trust in a lover. If either is in question, vaginismus steps in to protect me.
I stopped doing my physical exercises and using my dilator, acts that were just too upsetting because of their attachment to him. I knew in my head I should keep doing them, reasoning that I should be ready for the next opportunity, the next relationship. But I didn’t. I needed to change the way I thought about sex and my vaginimus before I would have the courage to begin again on my own.
This post was quite a downer. Just know that the story gets much better soon :)
While each individual time we had sex blurs together in my memories, there are a few important things that where consistent….
1. I couldn’t handle every position. The angles and pressure of penetration in certain physical arrangements would sometimes cause intense sensations and discomfort, making my vaginal muscles clench. This wasn’t always painful and I think many of these positions would have eventually been pleasurable, given more time for my vagina to grow accustomed to sex. How things feel will be different for every woman, in fact finding certain positions more comfortable than others is common for all women, not only the one’s who have vaginismus. For me, if we tried to do it with T in back of me inserting his penis from behind, I would need to stop very quickly. Because of the intensity I would loose control over my vaginal muscles and my vaginismus would step in as the automatic response.
2. We would usually have so much sex over a short period of time, that my vagina would get sore just from the constant friction. I was not accustomed to having sex at all, let alone two to three times a night for days in a row, followed by weeks of nothing at all because of the distance. Even though this soreness was not caused by my vaginismus I was always careful not to continue with penetration if experiencing any pain or discomfort. The sensation was mild, however, the last thing I needed was my disorder saying, “See, I told you sex was painful,” and becoming stronger. T and I had worked too hard at teaching my body and mind that in fact sex is natural, comfortable, and pleasurable.
3. I always felt confident that T would stop as soon as I said enough. This trust was so central to me getting my vaginal muscles to relax and my body to feel safe, without it we would not have been able to make the progress we achieved.
Finally, and I think MOST importantly, the sex was usually not only comfortable but enjoyable. This was a huge revelation for me. I always hoped that sex would be something I enjoyed since my body clearly wanted it (minus the vaginismus) but I was never quite sure what the experience would be like for me. I was relieved that I could reach an orgasm and I was always wanting more than my body could take, and sometimes even more than T could deliver. It was a truly unbelievable time, despite the setbacks of not being able to make my body do everything I longed for. We were having fun and we had made it happen together.
It is probably obvious from the way I write that T and I did not end up staying together. We broke up very suddenly and while I will never know all the reasons why he was done, I don’t believe our sex life was one of them. The final time we were physically together, we had some of the most enjoyable sex up to that point in the relationship, his words called it “the best sex yet.” I was rapidly getting more comfortable, eager, and confident, and I believe he enjoyed himself more and more as he was able to relax about my disorder.
Will the thought always haunt me that maybe it WAS our sex life and my disorder, and I just didn’t realize? Yes. But I must always remind myself that this disorder is a part of who I am and while I want to heal from it, I need to be with someone who can respect and even appreciate the person it has shaped me to be. IF sex was a reason for our break up it was out of my control.
While this blog is focused on the physical side of relationships, there are certain other aspects of any romantic partnership that will effect the sexual life of a couple, and therefore a woman’s experience of vaginismus.
T broke up with me in a fifteen minute phone conversation and we never spoke again (something I insisted upon and he did not argue against). It came as such a shock to me. Only the week before everything had seemed normal, with us talking via Skype and phone as much as possible. We missed each other, but that was nothing new. Months later I found a message I had saved that he left me only two weeks before the breakup, saying that I was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. We had made so many commitments about the future, marriage, family, and forever, and while my logic always knew there was no guarantee, a heart doesn’t often listen to logic. Our break up ripped out the things I thought I could count on.
Here was the man who had stood beside me during recovery from my disorder, who had shown me all the patience and commitment in the world. After our breakup I felt emotionally and physically betrayed. I didn’t want to have sex with anyone else and here he was making that my only choice. He set me “free” before I wanted to be, before I could ever manage to easily have sex with anyone else because my disorder was still a constant physical reality. The thought of having to explain my sexual history to whoever I dated next filled me with dread. Before T, all I had to say was that I was still a “virgin,” and that would either scare off those guys not looking for commitment or make it clear to those who were that sex probably wouldn’t happen immediately. Yes, using the word “virgin” was embarrassing at times, but much more simple than using “vaginismus.” It felt as though he broke us up without real cause and then threw me out into the scary world of dating and sex before I was close to ready.
I know this was not his thought process, but in the height of my grief it was mine. And while I now have a completely different perspective about that time, reliving it in writing recalls how rocked I was by the rejection.
This upset also ushered my vaginismus back in full force. Our breakup showed me just how connected my experience of sex and vaginismus is to my emotional well being and trust in a lover. If either is in question, vaginismus steps in to protect me.
I stopped doing my physical exercises and using my dilator, acts that were just too upsetting because of their attachment to him. I knew in my head I should keep doing them, reasoning that I should be ready for the next opportunity, the next relationship. But I didn’t. I needed to change the way I thought about sex and my vaginimus before I would have the courage to begin again on my own.
This post was quite a downer. Just know that the story gets much better soon :)