We’ve got creative with our metaphors for vaginismus over the years, but this week network member Clare finally took it to Harry Potter – or Voldemort, more accurately. She explained how naming her condition took away a huge amount of fear and shame. Because, as she puts it ‘when you name something, it takes away its power.’
We couldn’t agree more.
Hey Clare, thanks for speaking to us today! Before we get into your story, where would you say you’re currently ‘at’ with vaginismus?
I’m at a stage where I’m working on not letting vaginismus control me, and I’m getting rid of the blame. In the past, vaginismus dictated the calibre of partner I’ve felt I’m worthy of and the way in which I speak to myself. Some days I’m better at positive self-talk than others, but the days I’m able to be kind to myself are the days where vaginismus has less power over me.
So when, or how, did you first realise you might have vaginismus? When did you start talking about it?
I first realised I had vaginismus in 2014 when I went to have PIV for the first time and my vagina put up an impenetrable Fort Knox security system. I went to the doctor the next day who suggested I had vaginismus. Whilst I was fortunate to get an early and accurate diagnosis, the following years were spent dealing with a medical system that hasn’t caught up to the condition. A family GP I went to see described the condition as ‘quite sad’ while another sexual health clinic I called for support said they had never heard of the condition. I started talking about the condition with my friends about three years ago and it gave me back some power. Much like Harry in the Harry Potter collection, I agree with the philosophy that fear of a name (or a condition in my case), only increases fear of the thing itself. I don’t have the same fear of people finding out that I used to. I’m not ashamed anymore.
Is there anything you’ve tried that’s helped you? Or anything that’s been totally unhelpful?
I’ve tried ignoring it, hating it, and blaming myself for it. I’ve also hooked up with men who I allowed to say awful things to me. A favourite quote from a gentleman so far is : ‘I’m good at penetrative sex, I think I can fix you’. By that logic, I assume he also thinks he can help people in wheelchairs because he is ‘good at walking’.
The most helpful things to me have been choosing a positive narrative and actually being able to laugh at vaginismus. A few years ago I wouldn’t have thought that would be possible, but laughing at vaginismus seems to take away a bit of its power.
What would you say to anybody struggling with vaginismus right now?
Don’t let it control you. Vaginismus is, without a doubt, a prick of a condition. It has made me feel some of my lowest lows, but it has also given me resilience and showed me the power of community. My value doesn’t come from my pelvic floor muscles.
Is there anything you’ve learnt through the process or would love to share with people?
The resources available since I found out I had vaginismus in 2014 have vastly improved. When I first heard about the condition I jumped onto Google and was met with various articles and sites that were filled with negative rhetoric rather than support. Now, communities like the Vaginismus Network and books like My Broken Vagina by Fran Bushe offer a narrative that is helpful, positive, and dare I say; fun! I have also learnt that plastic dilators don’t work for me and that some people offer unqualified opinions about vaginismus on the internet that aren’t worth reading.
What would you like to see more of/less of surrounding the worlds of sex, love, medicine and more?
I would like to see vaginismus spoken about with a similar tone to articles on erectile dysfunction. Articles on ED are full of language about how common the condition is and how women in relationships can support their partners. Vaginismus still doesn’t have the same narrative around it and seemingly puts the onus onto the individual.
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If you’d like to share your story with us, email Natalie at vaginismusnetwork@gmail.com