Tag: Sex

I finally started pelvic floor therapy last Thursday. I was told by the therapist who did my intake that most pelvic floor patients only come once a week, but I’m a special case because of course I am. I mean, why wouldn’t an obscure yet common condition impact me for multiple reasons instead of just one?

She confirmed I do have vaginismus, which was kind of obvious given that twelve years ago I had to be given general anesthesia for a pelvic exam and hysteroscopy. But it was still nice to officially have someone who knows how “my down there” works confirm it. (“My down there” was something that slipped out once in a conversation with Chris so now it’s something we joke about.) Anyway, she found out about my history of trauma, which she said is definitely a factor. Then she found out about my history of hip problems and attempted & successful orthopedic surgeries on it. And she found out about my hypermobility and how my joints can be “really flexible” but my muscles lack flexibility and can be extremely stiff.

It’s going to be hard for me to do some of the therapies required because relaxing muscles is extremely difficult for me. Like my brain will send the message for them to relax and my body will send one back asking WTAF it’s talking about. Physical therapists have literally had to slap and jerk my legs (not in a painful way) to make the muscles ease up before. And one of my new therapists, because I can’t just have one, will be doing dry needling for part of mine.

She decided on that path because checking my body for orthopedic clues about “my down there” (cute right?) always seemed to lead me to feel tensing & spasming in my vagina. She discovered my piriformis muscle, which has been a dick to me for years, was extremely stiff and just pressing once almost automatically caused a spasm for me. She said normally she could work it out with her hands, but she thought that could set me back weeks. So she is going to do dry needling instead.

If it works, it works.

And she will be focusing on my external therapy. The other therapist, who I haven’t met yet, will be working on my internal therapy. Not internal as in psychotherapy but internal as in INTERNAL. So that’ll be different, right? Because I need external pelvic floor/orthopedic physical therapy in addition to the internal pelvic floor therapy, I get to see them twice a week.

Oh, and to get any of this done, I had to ask my rheumatologist for a referral/order for it & set the appointment up myself because it was taking my family doctor too damn long to do a second one. I’m also still a bit annoyed at her office staff for trying to send me to a clinic that doesn’t take my insurance. (What is even up with that?)

So yeah. Now I get to go to pelvic floor therapy in the morning twice a week because that’s when the internal therapist works at this clinic. The morning part is what I dread the most.

Hopefully it will all be worth it.

So I will probably regret writing this later, but I’m on Flexeril so I’ll worry about that then.

As you may or may not know, for years, I didn’t have the best experiences in life when it comes to sex positivity, sex education, and sexual experiences. That I was sexually abused as a child, raped as an adult, part of a very conservative religion for most of my life, and forced to grow up in the “sex-is-bad-bigotry-is-good” state of Alabama probably all have contributed to my vaginismus. If you don’t know what that is, it basically means that my vagina closed up shop without letting me know and refuses to reopen for no goddamn reason. It can be painful, but it’s mostly embarrassing as fuck and emotionally devastating.

I can be super turned on, but if my vagina wants, it will close up like it’s Spirit Halloween on November 3rd. It practically disappears from the face of the earth. And by face of the earth, I mean my “down there” region. It’s so exhausting and it’s painful, and sometimes I feel like I’m failing at being a girlfriend and a human being.

There are treatments for it, including dilators and physical therapy. The problem is that dilators can take hours, which is kinda shitty when you really want to have sex right this minute. And the problem with physical therapy is that pelvic floor physical therapy can’t be done by just anyone and the people who do it won’t fucking schedule my appointment. My family doctor sent the first referral the week before Valentine’s Day. They sent another almost two weeks ago. Still nothing.

Mila Kunis saying “I’m sorry, what?”

What does a girl have to do to have a functional vagina so she can have a lot of sex with the love of her life? Also, so I can stop having the vagina spasms that hurt like a motherfucker. Mainly the sex though because priorities.

I did something bad last night. I brought up consent and boundaries when someone made a thread about their sex life. This caused a bit of a kerfuffle amongst dudebros entitled men and some pick-mes brainwashed women.

The thread felt very toxic and rapey, so people (mostly women) expressed disgust. The guys who loved the thread did not appreciate that and decided to malign those who had a problem with it, declaring that the lack of love for this one couple’s sexcapades is why average marriages have shortened sex lives and that their marriage is healthy and fun, not toxic. Because I’m me, I had to counter that.

I pointed out that it’s toxic to have sex when she doesn’t want to—because that’s true. I am a firm believer in enthusiastic consent and in establishing & respecting boundaries. Shit hit the fan over this and I can honestly say that I learned a lot.

Derek taught me that women who have sex just to please a man are the equivalent to men who do dishes just to please a woman. Yay for reinforcing gender roles and the self-own about his ability to have teh sex. #FATHERHOOD taught me I fucked my way through work tasks and up the corporate ladder. Apparently he’s aware that sexual harassment exists, but doesn’t understand its dynamics. He also knows I’m just that good at sex. Potato taught me that it’s selfish to establish boundaries about sex. I guess I should listen because potato.

Then there were the ladies: FreeSouthernGirl taught me that if the guy is any good, he can make you want it even if you don’t really want it. Apparently she’s of the opinion that if your body responds, your brain doesn’t matter. Told you so agreed. As did Fauxreal.

But then there was an individual who decide I needed to know all of his opinions. John decided that since I was raped, I view all sex as rape. John decided I either haven’t recovered from being raped or that I’m a misandrist—which isn’t even a fucking thing because misandry is not a thing. John also doesn’t know that he used the wrong fucking word. Then he decided that I have (extreme) trust issues, that I avoid sex and can’t enjoy avenues to it, that I think foreplay is rape, that I’m in denial, and that I am a prude knight.

I don’t understand how wanting both parties to be consenting and into the sex means I’m prude? Like how does that make sense? Also, being labeled as prude feels like a joke. I may not have had sex until I was 30, but I was never prude. (Chris laughed hard when I told him about John’s comment. If anyone knows about my lack of prudeness, it would be him.)

If you have a problem with consent and boundaries, then that is a you problem. It’s also a sign you should not be having sex with anyone other than yourself—and even you deserve better than that. Please don’t have sex with someone if they don’t want to have sex with you or if you don’t want to have sex with them. You don’t need a reason for saying no. You can say no to a person you just met and you can say it to a spouse. Sex should be something that all parties involved should want. There is no “need” for sex that trumps that.