Progress Log!

I put a small finger sized vibrator in today, and I think I may have put it all the way in! This is the first non finger object to have successfully entered. I had virtually no anxiety either. I think I'm making excellent progress, despite the lack of genitalia exercises. It had to start in the mind first. I'm not trying to force my body to submit to me, I'm trying to prove to it that penetration is not a scary thing. It feels good, that's why people do it. Sex is fun.

Progress log over.

The Reveal

It's always really weird telling somebody that I have vaginismus. Thankfully, it doesn't really happen much. I decided to tell my roommate. She was confused, like anyone would be. I think she thought I was lying at first. I told her I was a virgin. That my vagina muscles were too tight to let anything in. I was very calm and nonchalant about it. I got the usual 'helpful suggestions' response. I deflected it pretty well. I think that I have made a great deal of progress in the way I have framed my own sexuality. I feel that as time passes, I only become a stronger and more well articulated person. It makes me happy and excited for the future. I might order a set of dilators if I'm feeling bold.

Although I want this blog to remain relatively low key and anonymous, I do hope that someone else like me finds this blog. I want someone else to realize they are not alone. You are not alone.

Being a Woman vs Being a Human

Sometimes I forget that in the eyes of society, I am a woman first and foremost and a person second. All of the interactions I have with people of the opposite sex have the ability and the obligation to turn sexual. Because I am a woman first and foremost. I am used for sex, and all conversations, compliments, favors and the like are all steps leading up to obtaining The Sex from me. Because I owe you that at least for your paying attention to me, because why the hell else would anyone talk to a woman? The things woman say are stupid, they don't understand the manly nuances of real life like you do. They must have sex bartered, coerced, forced, tricked out of them.

I am a person. A person with thoughts and feelings and opinions. In a room full of men, I'm going to stick out, because I look different than everyone else. But it shouldn't matter. Because I am a person. I will listen to your thoughts and feelings and opinions. Not out of a desire for The Sex, but because I want to be your friend. Person-to-person, eye-to-eye, irrespective of gender lines. And I deserve that.

I hate having the barriers up constantly, feeling like I have to cover my own ass, feeling like I deserved it. I am not 'asking for it' I am simply existing as a person out in the world. I'm not asking you for anything but respect. I shouldn't have to fear all the people I come into contact with lest they think I owe them sex in exchange for basic human decency.

Seriously, fuck that.

Social Synthesis

Everybody else can love you just fine, so why can't you?

I am tired of acting as the social synthesizer for so many people. I keep trying to help people out, I have to be there to mediate the tension, or awkwardness. I have to be in charge of keeping people together, of gathering them together, of making the phone calls, checking in, making the plans. Why? I have to listen to advice I didn't ask for, get thrown under the bus, hang around and do a bunch of things I don't want to. What am I really gaining out of this interaction? Good moral standing? Karma? We can already see what good Karma has given me. Nothing. A bunch of shit really.

I am just annoyed, when do I get my support? When do I get what I asked for? And honestly, would I even know how to answer if some asked me, "What is it that I can do for you?" I don't know really.

Some Things Regarding Mental Illness

I was discussing with a friend two of the scariest things about having a mental illness:

1. Loss of control. That feeling that everything is spinning or you are stuck and you can't get out. A total inability to stop and let things cool down. That paralyzing fear. It's like having a car with the breaks cut. You suddenly realize that you car just won't stop. Of course, maybe it'll coast to a stop with no harm no foul. Or maybe you'll go careening through a red light into a bus full of schoolchildren.

2. Loss of perspective. Suddenly, it's hard to tell what normal is. If there even is one. Who are you? And where are you? And what is really happening? Are you overreacting? Maybe people are just telling you that so you'll calm down. And when your without the presence of a grounding individual, the line of reality and illness blurs real damn fast. The gas that is mental illness, expands rapidly to fill the vacuum of solitude. And that's when things escalate.

Although number 1 is something that really can't be helped much, I think two definitely can. If people felt more comfortable in sharing their personal illness, if they felt they would be believed and respected, there would be a greater wealth of knowledge, empathy and compassion among us. Imagine if most of us knew how to deal with panic attacks, anxiety, depression on a regular basis. And we lived in a world that was understanding of the challenges we faced. That people knew more healthy ways to take the edge. Where people could vent freely about their challenges without fear of judgement.

Now that would be nice.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

It's really crazy how much smell is tied to memory. Supposedly our most primal of all senses. I can see why.

When I'm Feeling Defeated

When I'm feeling defeated, I tell myself that there was a time I couldn't touch my own vulva. Not a single part. If I had a clothing fiber, or a stray hair I wanted to get rid of, I couldn't. I would start feeling faint. I couldn't touch there without shaking. When my partner tried to go down on me I would lay there silently, with my legs clenched tightly wondering what these feelings were and why I enjoyed the sensations. I couldn't spread my labia without feeling sick. I couldn't clean myself properly, I felt itchy and uneasy about my body. It disgusted me. I hated it. I had never touched the opening of my vulva. I had never touched my anus. I loathed these parts of me.

And then, something changed. I patiently sat each day after my shower, examining myself. Pushing that envelope ever so slowly until I didn't feel a burning sensation. My skin was mine and my own. I could even masturbate by touching myself. I could wash the outside and enjoy my own body. It's difficult to explain to someone who wasn't experienced it what its like to be an enemy of your own body. And how good it feels to triumph.

Even more amazingly, in the summer of 2012, I sat in front of a mirror and put a finger into my vagina. I watched some dirty videos on the internet, stripped down and challenged myself.  At that point of my life, I had never ever touched that part of myself. It confused me, weirded me out. What the hell was that? This is weird, this is disgusting, I hated myself more. I cried a little, I dry heaved. But I never hurt myself. I was determined. I furiously masturbated everyday, with no shame or regret. I was probably the horniest I'd ever been in my life. It was confusing, but the momentum was great.

Now, my sex drive has quelled a little bit. I have been clouded by frustration again. I want to just be done with it. I was to just fuck and fuck and cum, and have all kinds of disgusting and shameful and confusing experiences. And a year ago, I probably would have never believed that a person like me would say words like fuck and cum. But here I am, typing this on the internet. Maybe someone I know will stumble across this and figure out its me. Who knows. It's a little unnerving I guess. But if you are here, whoever you are, I say this:

Hello, and welcome to my world.

Halloween: Addendum

I also noticed that while girls tend to gravitate towards revealing costumes, a huge amount of guys chose to wear costumes that involved cross dressing of some degree. It makes me wonder, since all of us (women and men) seem to want to dress like slutty women. What does that say about us? And why is it necessarily a bad thing? I say there should be more than one day a year when people can indulge themselves in skin revealing.

Also, as I may have previously discussed I don't know how to deal with my sudden blossom into a person who is sexually attractive to the opposite sex. Although I feel as though I have remained relatively unchanged over time, something has obviously changed in my mannerisms and the way I carry myself. I have acquired a lot of male attention as of late. And its confusing and scary. But hey, it's another opportunity for growth.