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heroica
Problematic Pussy: Overcoming Painful Sex BY E L I Z A B E T H R I C H
My vagina doesn’t work, and it hasn’t from a young age. A burning sensation, itching, stabbing pain and general discomfort would keep me up at night, but I didn’t know how to tell my parents because we’re often told that talking about our genitals is dirty and embarrassing. These symptoms (which I still get) make standing up tough and walking around even tougher. Sometimes it’s like having constant thrush or a UTI. But I didn’t realise just how bad my condition was until I got older and started having sex.
Sex happened for the first time when I was seventeen. It was NOT like the movies (I’m looking at you, Fifty Shades of Grey). Although somewhat painful and uncomfortable, losing my virginity would not be the most painful sex I’d have. As my (ex) boyfriend and I began doing it regularly, it became clear that something was wrong. Penetration was extremely painful; my vagina wasn’t producing any moisture. For days after the deed it would sting and ache. I’d hear friends’ conversations about sex and how enjoyable it was and would join in with fake scenarios as I was embarrassed that my vagina didn’t work like theirs. I felt broken. By this point I was old enough to articulate my struggles to a doctor and was introduced to the systemic issues within women’s healthcare. Despite constant reminders that I had only had one sexual partner, I was sent for multiple STD screenings. When these came back clear (obviously), I would be forgotten about and had to push for more exploration. I switched doctors and was subject to this cycle again before finally being heard and referred to a gynaecologist. Whilst undertaking this medical process, I still had a relationship to upkeep. I placed suffocating expectations on myself, fixating on the false belief that good girlfriends should sexually satisfy their boyfriends. In September 2019 I began attending university, and my relationship became long-distance. Sex was an expectation whenever my boyfriend came to see me, and I began to dread his visits. I feared sex and the pain I would be in during and after. I couldn’t even kiss him without the muscles in my vagina contracting as subconsciously I thought that kissing would lead to sex. Sex became about him pleasuring himself and me just lying and waiting for it to be over. Don’t get me wrong, it was consensual – just not pleasurable.
