For Lucy, 22, penetration is painful. This makes some run a mile – but not the ones worth knowing
I was in the middle of a relationship when I was diagnosed with vaginismus. Initially, it was a thing that I took to be an insecurity, and the person I was with took it to be something we needed to work on.
Medically, vaginismus is defined as the tightness of muscles around the vagina, which causes pain when penetration happens. When I started to learn more about vaginismus, and realised what pleasure meant for me, I felt more empowered. It definitely impacted the confidence and security of my ex, and in general, it has always been an issue in my relationships. I’m straight, and it seems that my partners’ masculinity feels threatened when they have to adapt to my version of sex. They typically haven’t been willing to go outside their comfort zone, and the pressure is always placed on me to adapt to what suits them.
I don’t reveal my vaginismus very early on anymore; I have previously and it just scared the guy off. However, if that happens I know they’re not worth it. I’ve had a very mixed bag of experiences. Some guys respond with, “I’ll care for you,” but it’s a means of control; the subtext being, “I will help you to get to the end goal.” Or there are the guys who will just run, because they think you’re asking for an emotional commitment that they can’t give. They have an expectation that women can only have penetrative sex – and become very restless when this isn’t the case.
Vaginismus shouldn’t require a lengthy explanation, and it shouldn’t be a deal-breaker. It’s just part of who you are
My situation isn’t an easy thing for me to talk about. I’m always very nervous about what people will think of me, so I’m working on what would be the best way to tell someone. I think it’s difficult on dating apps because people have a tendency to just running away or ignore you. There’s always that fear of rejection when it comes to telling someone because it’s not a very well-known condition. People immediately think there’s something wrong with you, but vaginismus shouldn’t require a lengthy explanation, and it shouldn’t be a deal-breaker. It’s just part of who you are.
One way of becoming gradually more accustomed to penetration is by using tube-shaped devices of different sizes to dilate your vagina. I’ve had moments in my dating life where I’ve felt really lonely, and as a result I’ve stopped dilating. My doctors always say: “Why have you stopped? The end goal isn’t for you to be able to have sex with someone, the end goal is for you to be able to enjoy sex and know your own body.” You have to be able to bring yourself there; it’s down to you and nobody else.
When you start to understand your vaginismus, you start to focus on what you actually like. Experimenting with sex toys makes you realise, “Wait, I can enjoy this.” The first couple of times I practised dilating myself, I almost started crying afterwards. I was thinking, “How is this so good?”
The best thing that I’ve realised about vaginismus is that you’re never really alone. There are always people out there who have had a shit sexual experience, or have never had an incredible one-night stand, or they have vaginismus too. It’s very normal for sex not to be perfect, and it’s okay to be imperfect and learn as you go. It is a terrifying feeling to think that you will be stuck in a situation forever, but so many people have awkwardness or insecurities surrounding sex in general that need to be normalised.
When I was diagnosed with vaginismus, my definition of sex was penetration. I came to realise that it’s not the physical definition of sex that matters, but the definition of sex that works for you. For me, sex between partners is equal; that means that pleasure is equal and your emotional, physical, and spiritual needs are equal as well. If there’s an imbalance, then it’s not right. I know others who have vaginismus, where it’s been a great thing for their relationship. It means that they’ve had to communicate more with their partner, and they’ve been better of for it. That hasn’t been my experience yet, but I think that it has improved the relationship that I have with myself.
Lucy’s name has been changed, as she preferred to remain anonymous.
Interviewed by Niamh Houston.