Saturday, 12.14.2013 - 10:41 am.
The pup I mentioned in my last entry was adopted! I was hoping he'd go fast because he was male (people are like that, even when the females are spayed) but I didn't expect he'd go so soon. That same day I also found a home for a kitty. Find ALL animals a home for Christmas!
On wednesday I visited a gynecologist for the first time here. I finally have health insurance. It's costing me a horrible amount per month, being a woman who can make babies, but I lacked the people skills to negotiate a cheaper plan. Anyway, it's still better than having no plan. I didn't save that much but I was pleased with the hassle-free procedures.
But obviously the visit itself was anything but hassle-free. I say obviously although I may not have mentioned this explicitly here: I have a really hard time having sex. Always have. I have a strong, automatic rejection towards everything and anything that wants to get inside. But it wasn't until I saw a patient last year that it dawned on me that such reaction wasn't that normal. I found what my patient had and on wednesday I confirmed that I had it too: vaginitis.
A few weeks ago, when I was looking for gynos (and since then I'd been stressed and upset whenever I thought about the appointment), I came to terms with the fact that I need help, very specific help. The patient in question suffered sexual abuse when she was a child at the hands of her nanny, a teenage girl. My patient had all the symptoms I have during intercourse. In a nutshell, horrible pain during penetration. And because of the anticipation of the pain, you just want to avoid that thing altogether.
And me, I feel a penis coming in and I start thinking "Jesus, this is what rape feels like, get him off of me!", and I have to keep my eyes open to convince myself over and over that it's Andrew, that he's not gonna hurt me, that he's good to me.
For a while, recently, I was convinced I had been sexually abused. I have a vague memory of Joseph mentioning it, though I can't even remember if he was asking or suggesting or joking. He used to tell me I was too tight down there, and in retrospective, it didn't help that as he grabbed my legs he'd say "relax and cooperate". That sounded just rapey though I couldn't think so at the time. It bothered me hearing that but I couldn't tell why.
Because of the tightness, I didn't physically enjoy the act and neither of us reached an orgasm in the three years we had sex. I didn't know what I was missing but Joseph without a doubt had had orgasms before and missed having them (since my opinion of him changed after he broke up with me, by now I don't know if he missed them; I just know he wasn't having them with me). I'm sorry about that, I didn't know any better at the time. I believe he thought my lack of sexual desire and enjoyment was about me not being attracted enough to him, and it wouldn't surprise me that would become one of his many reasons to dump me.
I don't remember if it hurt me so much when I was with Joseph as much as it hurts me now. I don't remember much about having sex with Joseph (I could go back and read old entries but it may mess me up). I remember that with Q intercourse was slightly more enjoyable and I nearly reached orgams. Andrew is fantastic, he makes sure that all my needs are met, we have fun as well as orgasms, but I still under-perform and I have to "make an effort" to enjoy. He once also thought I wasn't sexually attracted to him but we were able to clarify that I have a problem.
I've been to the gyno three times in my life, all female. The first time I moaned and screamed like I was being raped (a very clear sound in my head that I hope I got from movies). The second time went better, the doctor was my friend Rod's mom and she was so gentle. And now this time. The three times I've been told I get horribly tight and they can't get in.
They can't get in without a fight, to quote the doctor I saw on wednesday. I tried to relax my thighs and buttocks but it seemed useless. She said that if I got tight, she'd have to fight to get in and it'd hurt me more and it'd get tighter and so on. I know that, very well! It took her longer and it was more painful than usual (I was getting a pap smear, yay). I started to cry when I told Andrew afterwards, I felt so traumatized. Good Guy Andrew came with me to the appointment, by the way.
The doctor was nice, don't get me wrong, I'll keep seeing her. She prescribed me a test just in case the vaginitis has a biological basis, but most likely, it doesn't. She did ask me if I'd suffered sexual abuse as a child and my best answer was I didn't know. She prescribed me birth control pills which hopefully won't get me puffy like the vaccine I was using.
The rest of the day and the day after the appointment I was in pain. Muscle pain. This came not from the penetration of the instruments but the tightness of the muscles around the genitals, especially the buttocks. They hurt so much, they felt so tense I thought they were going to snap. I think about it now and I cringe and I get tense again. It's an automatic reaction, the same I get when I, in words of Sheldon Cooper, anticipate coitus.
I've relaxed with the idea of having suffered sexual abuse though. If I was, I don't remember at all. It could have been a couple of neighbors, a boy and a girl, who were mean and abusive to me and who themselves were beat and mistreated in their house (hell, one of them, a guy about my age, tried to steal my car's stereo a few years ago in the middle of the night; LOL, my car had no stereo). I also remember one game with another girl, I have no idea at what age, that seems to me had a lot of the dynamic of feeling pleasure by overpowering someone else. And I was overpowering her...we were playing, she was letting herself be overpowered, but still, man.
Then I think it could be that I just read too much about rape, power dynamics and sexual abuse. It's one of the topics that are with me everyday because of the feeds I'm subscribed to (news agencies, feminist sites and the like). Also, my first time was horrible. Joseph fingered me and it was excruciating. I felt a rush of adrenaline afterwards but the whole time I was in horrendous pain and disgusted over what I was feeling inside, while Joseph thought I was overcome with pleasure so he kept going. That experience alone was traumatizing for my body. I always heard it hurt and it did. Of course it did, he entered without lubrication, my own or external. Ugh, I get tense again.
Anyway! Such a joyous entry this one has been. I needed to get this off my chest and I'm relieved to find that I didn't get emotional while writing it. I'm coming to terms with a lot of things about this but I still have a long way to go.
I'll wait for the results to see if I'm referred to a psychologist. Such visit has been long overdue anyway, mostly because I never considered to have a relevant issue that I couldn't deal with by myself. In general, my life flows smoothly and I can handle the conflicts that come my way. I do believe that if I had seen someone though I would have been less traumatized by my relationship and break-up with Joseph. And, you know, one can go to the psychologist without having a relevant issue, just to get to know oneself better and become a better person. In my case, also, to become a better psychologist. So for whichever reason, I should go.
As for my patient, we worked her experience out and she was able to enjoy sex with no pain. So there you go. Getting help is good.
Oh, and also: Andrew's sister and my own sister are having an hysterectomy due to cancer risks. For Andrew's sister is a high probability, for my sister is a possibility in the future and she will not be taking chances about it. It got me thinking about the women in my family: my mom had a partial hysterectomy. My sister is having one. Sister-in-law #1 had it too, after she nearly died when giving birth to her second child, my niece. SIL #2 has had miscarriages (she's pregnant with a second child due in january, a baby girl!). SIL #3 has also dealt with fertility issues for years and Mother's Day breaks her heart. Obviously, this has also affected the men in my family.
Err...I don't know what to say about all that. Except, I suppose, one must be mindful and proactive when it comes to health issues.
On a happier note: Brother #3 wrote me last night and it was a wonderful, long letter about his whereabouts in the last months. He ends up telling me he loves me and misses me, which just makes me cry because although I know those sentiments are strong in this family, they're not often verbalized.