Pulling at the Strings

A nurse looked me straight in the eyes 9 months ago and asked if I had been sexually abused. She only asked because, as she told me, it was required of her to do so when she found a woman in my present condition.

Only minutes earlier, I had come in explaining to her that I felt a certain pain 'down there'. It was my first time I saw a gynecologist because I grew up with the belief that I didn't need to see one until I became sexually active. That day, I was worried I had come in too late. My mind jumped to possible infections, STDs and worse things. This nurse looked me over, used only her finger and a q-tip and quickly saw how much I agonized at each small contact. She didn't continue any further. I was physically fine.

The nurse explained to me that sexual abuse can have a profound effect on a woman, physically and emotionally. It took me a bit, but I finally said yes. That yes started a journey that threw me into every possible therapy I could get my hands on. It was a bleak time. But also a time of learning. I was given the name of a physical therapy place called The Pelvic Wellness Center. I consider myself very lucky because it was just what I needed at the time to get better. They specialized in vulvodynia treatment when no one else in the vicinity did. I didn't even know it existed until I was diagnosed. More specifically, I have Provoked Vestibulodynia (or PVD).

During this time, I sought help regularly with a great therapist, a general support group, books (such as self-help and 'When Sex Hurts' by Andrew Goldstein) and an occasional drop in at a place called SASS (Sexual Assault Support Services). And during this time, I was dating a guy whom I had tried to have sex with, but began seeing problems arise in intercourse with him. My situation is complicated because I feel that once I began tugging at one string-Why does it hurt to have sex? I began to unravel bigger and broader questions concerning who I was, what had happened, how my culture and upbringing affected how I viewed certain things (such as sex) and what it was I truly wanted. I know this sounds silly now, but I thought that if I sought help, pushed through this hell, I would eventually be able to have sex with the one guy that unintentionally started it all.

A few months later, he was gone. At the time, I cried and hated my body for being so broken. I saw myself as ugly. There were many times I just could not get back up from being so low. Everything was intertwined. I was rebuilding my past. Picking up pieces of my past sexual abuse event that I minimized because it wasn't rape. Yet, noticing how much that 'small' event had run its course through my past relationships and had built up a nasty pattern. I was finding my voice. I was trying to go back and forth between hiding and screaming. There were days I kept reminding myself how blessed I was to not be going through all of this on my own. I had good friends and support. There were other days I was tired of working through the past and just wanted to live in the present as a 'normal' person.

I recall a time in the beginning stages of my therapy in which I completely rejected the diagnosis and jumped in bed with a random stranger just to prove everyone, even myself, wrong. I wasn't broken. I could do this if I wanted to. The next day, I realized how much emotional and physical pain I had put myself through. I was wrong. It continued to hurt. It felt a like a knife that pierced upwards. That must have been my lowest point, seeing as that reinforced so many negative things in my mind. If I am to string together the negative moments concerning this issue, I would string together the first time I told my mom what I was diagnosed with and how she sighed with disbelief, begging me to get a second opinion. She told me sex is difficult the first couple times, but then it gets better. I don't need to waste so much money on something so 'unnecessary'. Or the times friends would talk about their sexual accomplishments around me and I could not help but cringe a little on the inside. Or the day I decided to never have sex again. Just by saying it, I felt that something very important inside of me cried out in disagreement. Finally, the short period of time in which I saw men and sex so negatively, I avoided them altogether.

But I do want to end this story on a good note because I am no longer living in that low point. I have been through a lot and I have gotten a lot better. What has helped me for my particular situation has been the dilators, lidocaine, biofeedback, massage, stretches and regular therapy. This whole journey has been exhausting, but necessary. And once more, I want to just say I feel blessed after going through all of this because I did not have to go through many pointless treatments and doctor visits just to get exactly what I need to start feeling better.

Reading through 'When Sex Hurts' by Andrew Goldstein, I learned more about PVD. And I also read the following under a section titled 'Vulvodynia: What we know today': "We're sure that there is no single cause of vulvodynia." pg. 69. Reading through a few of your stories on this forum has shown me how diverse vulvodynia can be and that sexual abuse does not have to be a 'contributor' in having this condition. If that is the case, it makes me look back at the question that nurse asked me and wonder if she really needed to ask that. For the longest time, I thought my condition could be squarely placed at the hands of this man who did me harm when I was younger. I felt better for a while believing that to be the case because I could finally direct the rage outside of myself. But now, I don't believe I can do that. It could just be a completely unrelated pain. In the end, it doesn't really matter where it came from, all I know is, it's just a pain I will need to live with and manage.

I am feeling a whole lot better than when I started out nine months ago. But even so, my mind worries about the future. Will I ever be able to have sex with a man and not think about the pain that may come up again? Will this pain ever worsen? Can I ever feel 'normal' around other women who talk about their own great nights? Will it be easier or harder when I'm pregnant? Can I ever fully love my body, feel comfortable, confident and sexy, despite all the pain I've been in and the occasional pain that sometimes shoots up? And right now, I am not seeing anyone because I am still living under my sworn oath. I fear that even though I am now better, I will get myself in a similar situation with future men. Which in turn hasn't placed me in a confident place. Maybe it's still not time. But I wonder, when will it be time to try once again? Just another question I'll have to answer in time.

In the meantime, I am still in the process of building myself up and finishing up digging up in my past.

That's my story! Hope it helps others to know it can get better!

-Sahai

Hey Sahai,

Congratulations on all the progress you've made. It sounds like you've been really courageous!
I live in Oregon, too! But I'm in Portland.

Anyway, I figured I'd reply since I was sitting here today thinking about pretty much every single one of the questions you asked at the end of your post. I never experienced any sexual abuse and yet I have Vulvodynia, so getting through the abuse part must be an added challenge. I definitely don't have any answers to those questions, but I just want to say that you're not alone! Hopefully they will answer themselves for us with time...

-R