Dilator Three

So after an incident referred to in the last post, which was involved a confusing event later referred to as sex. I straddled my partner's half erect penis and tried to put it in. Which was slightly stressful and confusing and close to intercourse but not quite there yet. So we went back to the drawing board. We left off at dilator 2, which went all the way in. And now yesterday and today we put dilator 3 roughly 50% of the way in. (I put it in gently of course, at a distance of roughly 50%). There are 5 dilators. The last being of a relatively gratuitous size. If I graduate to dilator 4, I could potentially take an entire dick of modest size. However, I try to remind myself that laying still and slowly inserting a piece of rigid plastic into my vagina at a snails pace and leaving it still for 5-6 minutes isn't even remotely close to real sex. But knowing that I have the space for a penis sized object would be a huge improvement, Huge. So for positivity sake, lets go through the list of milestones I've achieved:

1. Complete desensitization to body: I have touched every part of my body.  Put my finger in as far as possible, can look at my body parts in the mirror without feelings of nausea. Even the ass region. Can simply touch in between the labia and etc. It's a non-issue.

2. Learned to orgasm by someone else's hand: Multiple times! This shit is great. Tiring, but great. Feeling myself let go, feeling crazy insane feelings that border too much, not enough, tears, smiles, over the rainbow good. Terrifying. Ecstasy. Again and again.

3. Learned to orgasm by my own hand: Work in progress, but I managed to orgasm during a mutual getting off event. It was cool.

4. Went to the gyno: I went, and talked about my issues. And then took my underwear off. And stuff. Then I peed in a cup and got charged 100 bucks for it. Live and Learn

5.Insert a finger during sexual activity: Only happened once where it went in all the way. But it still happened.

6. Talked to people I didn't necessarily feel close to or trust about sex: It's almost not a big deal anymore to talk about sex casually to friends, or even to reveal my 'disability'. Almost may be a little overoptimistic. But I still have consulted with people about sexual issues.

7. Inserted dilator one all the way in: 2.5 inches long

8. Inserted dilator 2 all the way in: 3.5 inches long

9. Had the tip of a penis enter. Unsure of how deep it actually was. But it was in there. There was a little thrusting action. I certainly wouldn't be able to join a nunnery.

10. Cried tears of joy during sexual activity. These weren't scared tears, trauma tears, no curling up into a ball. Just joy tears. Sweet sweet hormones.

So there is much much progress. Unfortunately it seems I went and got myself single again .May not be permanent. Or it may be. I don't know. I couldn't handle it. Sometimes its okay to admit you cant handle it. 

Practice makes perfect

I may have had the closest thing to sex in my life thus far. It was pretty much a nonevent as far as these things could go. I'm thankful for that. To be completely honest, I can't even tell if something is in my vagina most of the time, so I couldn't actually tell you whether I had sex or not. Boyfriend seems to think so. So let him make the call. He knows more about these things than I do.

The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.

You know, I think of myself as a kind and forgiving person. A person who doesn't like conflict, a person who is honest, forthright,tries to do the right thing. I'd like to think that i'd absorb the sins of the world if it made everybody feel better.

But you know, sometimes, sometimes its just way more than I could reasonably handle. Way more than could be reasonably forgiven, reasonably swept under the rug, reasonably swallowed. I didn't ask to be born you know, just like I didn't ask for the childhood trauma that made me be the way I am, I didn't ask for my dog to be so messed up, for four of my family members to die, I didn't ask for the depression, the ocd, the anxiety, I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask for you to hurt me the way you did. I didn't ask for that. I wouldn't ask for your forgiveness if I misstep like that in my life. I didn't ask for that.

I didn't ask to be a sad sad person who just takes and takes it. I can't be anything more than myself. I really just can't. So why, why is it never enough? When do I get to be good enough, strong enough, sexy enough? When do the tears stop? When does it get better?

Happy fucking birthday to me. Happy birthday you stupid piece of shit. You will struggle. You will open your eyes and walk your tired stupid sad self to your stupid piece of shit job and you will do it again and again and again. And you will do that because you are alive and breathing. You hurt because you live. So live for those who can't. Even if you hate yourself. Live and loathe.

Why am I suddenly following my own blog?

"Good porn is like good music. It's out there, but more often than not, you have to go looking or you'll end up with something repulsive you can't get out of your head."

Comment from last weeks Savage Love 

Dilator Number One!

Got dilator two in all the way for the second time. So it was not a fluke! Dare I try number two for next week's exercise?

I was having some difficulties sleeping lately, feeling very nervous which I didn't like. It's amazing how much a good night's sleep can have on your body's chemistry. I wonder if have the severity of my depression wasn't just sadness about not sleeping. My skin used to be so bad, I had constant diarrhea, stomach pains, couldn't focus, and at one point the muscle that held up my eyelid actually stopped working so my one eye constantly looked droopy. Those were just some horrible times. And it amazes me how few people seemed to acknowledge it. I was just so fricken hard on myself all the time. Sometimes it took all the energy I had left just to hate myself. I just hated myself around the house basically, denying myself food, sleep, showers or video games. I did things that I found intentionally uncomfortable. I was a prisoner to my horrible and sadistic self.

Amazing really, how powerful the brain can be, truly amazing. Progress onwards.

The dilators have arrived

Progress Log!!

Dilators arrived, there's five of them, they fit together like russian dolls in a little canvas bag. The instructions were outrageously simple.

-Wash dilator
-Apply lube
-Spread legs
-Insert slowly as far as comfortable and leave for five minutes
-Remove and rinse
-Repeat as needed

And so, after puttering about for a day or two, getting called out by the boyfriend for puttering about, and crying a little in frustration blah blah blah serious conversation, woe is me why was a born such a horrible stupid failure conversation, I decided to stop saying a bunch of ideas I no longer subscribed to and set an agenda.

Every day I get back from work, sign into my sex tumblr. Look at some sexy images, get out the vibrator, get relaxed, do the steps listed above and see how it goes. Then I take a nice shower and be done with it. See how I feel and then do it again the next day. Just finished the third day, this is how it went.

Day 1: Was at the boyfriend's house. At his urging I went into his room with the Number 1 size dilator and a some noise canceling headphones. Tried to relax, very unsuccessfully. Felt defeated. Inserted dilator, accompanied by severe burning sensation in urethral area, some internal burning, anxiety. Pushed on just a bit more than necessary. Thought I wasn't making any progress. Removed dilator to find it had actually been about 50-60% of the way in. Burning and discomfort persisted until I left the shower. Wondered if I could ever be normal.

Day 2: On my own time, did the following steps listed above. Was scared, but not as scared as the previous day. Tried to insert dilator, more pain and burning. Tried to open my legs. Caused a large amount of anxiety. Slowly opened my knees with the dilator in until anxiety faded. Left it in 60% of the way for about 5 minutes. Anxiety subsided but physical success only increased by a small percentage

Day 3: Lay on my bed expecting similar results, but was surprised to feel just a little burning. Tried to push it in a little further but it didn't seem like it was going to move. I lay there like that very still. Then I suddenly looked down to see it had gone all the way in. Like my body just suddenly engulfed it. I lay like that for about 5 minutes. Celebrated and took a long shower.

PROGRESS.

Day

Update--Warning: Bad Grammar Ahead!

So I went to my appointment and survived.

Not only did I survive. I had one of the most amazing ob-gyn's I could have had. It was really more of a therapy appointment than anything else. Turns out I didn't need a pap smear, having such a low risk of having HPV. But she did put her finger in slightly, gave me an external exam, etc. to give me peace that I did in fact have a vagina. She encouraged me to purchase a set of vaginal dilators (which according to USPS could be here tomorrow!!) gave me a plastic speculum and some pap smear q tips to experiment with on my own, as well as an enlightening discussion of sexuality, 70s era feminism and why people can never pronounce anybody's last names!

Interestingly enough, I discussed with her the moment in time where I thought I developed vaginismus. I had always thought it wasn't legit enough. After all, I haven't ever been actually sexually assaulted, all my sex partners have been kind and gentle, and as far as I know, I haven't had any alarming genital contact at all. But apparently, sitting outside the door listening to something traumatic happening to somebody else actually counts as trauma. Which of course, seems really obvious in hindsight, but then there's that little complicating thing called Perspective. Which blurs everything and makes it hard to look from the outside (Of yourself? The only person you actually truly know.) and makes it hard to know which events are Really Bad instead of just Regular Bad. Hearing her reaction to my story made me feel incredibly validated. Like, Really? You think that an entire lifetime of sexual dysfunction, shame and admittedly, even at its lowest point suicidal ideation was actually a reasonable reaction to that event? Oh...

And that's that. That's the simplicity of seeking help really. All the scary, all the buildup, tears, anger, irritation the "I cannot do this" and the  "this wont work". These are just simple words, with simple causes, explanations, and yes, even solutions. There is always a way up, and a way out.

She told me that there were other people like me, that some households had very different "vagina cultures" that made people's outlook on sex and sexual health very different from one another. She told me that I didn't have to subject myself to any part of the examination that I didn't want to. She told me that I was an amazing and strong person, that I took an amazing initiative to my own health, my progress seemed amazing, and that whoever I ended up with would be very lucky. I'd like to think that she's right. I am very flattered and very grateful.

Even a few days later, when my perspective on things often shifts drastically, I feel 100% positive and confident in my first successful visit to the gynecologist. (Although actually my second visit, the first ended in hysterics, although that doctor was very nice too. I just really wasn't ready.)

Looking forward to my incoming package this week. Will update with dilator progress!