I truly believed that. I really felt like I was the problem. Because trying to have sex really hurt. I felt as if I was the reason he didn’t get to have “real” sex. I was the problem. And I needed answers and a fix. ASAP.

Mostly, I felt as if our wedding vows had rushed in to test our new marriage. Would we love and care for one another in this unexpected and immediate valley?

What I couldn’t see then, through all the intrusive, chaotic thoughts I was having, is that we actually had a great honeymoon. And we actually had some really beautiful intimacy. It was different from what we expected, but it was fun, sacred, and we were still wildly into each other. While some might argue we didn’t consummate our marriage… to me, we did. 

I was a virgin when I got married at 23. 

I went to the gynecologist because I wanted to go on birth control a few months before having sex for the first time.

I remember being so nervous for this check up. My hands were shaking and my armpits were sweating. I’d never had anyone prod around down there and I had no idea what this visit entailed (I’ve always thought it would be nice for gynecologists to have a “Is it your first time?” pamphlet for women so they can know what to expect at their first appointment— same for therapists too). 

We’ve got a lot of commercials for women around Period Products and Birth Control, but if painful sex or Vaginismus is so common in women, I wonder why there aren’t more treatments for it getting marketed to us? Why can’t we also have commercials assuring us our lives can be normal, our sex lives can be great, and we don’t have to have fear or shame surrounding Vaginismus?

Probably because vaginismus is overwhelmingly a secret. And the idea of having painful sex is often ignored (or women are told to just endure it).

I remember going into my hotel bathroom after trying to have sex unsuccessfully and painfully— looking at myself in the mirror, letting real disappointment show on my face instead of the facade I’d put up in front of my husband… I stared at myself and wondered what was happening to me. All of a sudden I dreaded the thought of going on a honeymoon. 

But what was wrong with me? Was sex always going to feel so painful? Would we ever get it in? I was so excited, how could I be failing at something I was excited to do?