dealing with pain and dysfunction

way to joy train*

Last night was my first night in my new apartment.  And tonight I remembered that vibrators exist!  Besides my lack of a sex drive and the fact that I was rarely by myself, I shared a door with two of my roommates last semester, and I could hear them breathing or twiddling their thumbs or fucking (mostly fucking).  And with those powers combined, it was the shittiest episode of captain planet ever made there was no vibrating fun to be had.  But that’s all gonna change, ’cause I’m unemployed, in a college town for the summer (aka ghost town), and living by myself.

*sign from botanical gardens in pondicherry, india


I have a yeastie or BV or some shit, and it just got so bad that it literally woke me out of a dead sleep.  And it’s fucking Saturday so the student health clinic doesn’t open for another three hours.  Coincidentally, that’s about how much sleep I got.  Holy shit, this is so horrible, I don’t know what to do.

Last night I was merely feeling a little suspect, and started some homeopathic hippie shit for yeast, but it obviously didn’t work.  I could never tell the difference between the two infections since I don’t get classic symptoms for either–just ridiculously itchy and massively pissed off for the both of them.  Shit, I’ve even managed to confuse BV and a UTI.  Which means that I always have to see a doctor when my vag is feeling down.  This is so not what I wanted to do today.  I need to find some anti-anxiety meds and calm down a little.  I wish I could sleep more before the clinic opens, but it’s not going to happen.  Nothing is open yet, which means I can’t even walk to the store and buy some boric acid or something.  Not that I have that much confidence in my ability to walk around right now…

I am seriously crawling out of my skin right now, I want to scream.

ETA:  Guess what this weekend is?!  Memorial Day Weekend!!  That means the student health clinic is, wait for it… closed! Until Tuesday!  So, um, best of luck to me, I guess.

ETAII:  Planned Parenthood is also closed.  I better have some great fucking barbecue this Memorial Day.  USA!  USA!


that’s all.

too much pain lately.  now that i’m done with classes (originaly typo confession:  down with classes… i’m totally not down with that, actually) i’ll have time for physical therapy with the one PT in ithaca.

um, stupid update but i feel like i haven’t written in awhile.

Dilator ≠ Penis

Okay so I should have seen that coming.  At least I tried with someone I’m comfortable with, because it would have been completely impossible in any other situation.  I’m now able to comfortably start with the third-to-last dilator, second-to-last is challenging but not painful, and the last one is not good.  Maybe an inch or two in it feels like hitting a wall (vaginimus, obvs) and if I push it, it’s just painful.  And instead of taking that as a warning sign, I decided to pretend like everything’s okay and forge ahead anyway.

The bad:  it hurt just as badly as I remember it.  It had been a really long time, but it’s still just as painful.  The tearing/papercut feeling afterward was just as bad, and I didn’t really want to move or bend over at all.

The good:  Since I’m so ridiculously prone to UTI’s, I always have to dash to the bathroom afterward.  Usually I use that time to curl up into a ball and cry because I’m so burny at that point.  Like imagine peeing razors.  But this time it wasn’t so bad, it hardly hurt at all.  I’m still a little achy (I think this was Thursday night, it’s now Saturday) and feel a little bruised or something, but the burning was gone in record time.  I think that might have to do with my regular use of the lidocaine/aspirin/gabapentin cream.

The stupid: Sex is nothing like dilator therapy at all, I think because I have so much less control over the situation.  I don’t know what possessed me to do that, I knew it was going to hurt.  It might be helpful to use something more realistic for therapy, but frankly I don’t want this guy hanging out in my room.

alone v. lonely

I don’t like being by myself, I can’t fall asleep alone, my bed is too big.  I don’t have anyone to tell about the inane details of my day, I want to share my dilator success story with someone who will care, I really need a hug.  A good hug.

When I was three I started raising my sister.  When I was fourteen I started dating a selfish prick.  When I broke up with selfish prick at eighteen, I started dating a nice boy immediately.  But I wanted to know what it was like to be alone.  Not lonely.  I’ve been lonely.  Like when no one thanked me for teaching my sister how to read.  Or when she had more friends than me and she got to go to sleepovers.  Or when the selfish prick threw basement shows with his cool bands and his cool friends and my social anxiety was so bad that I hid in his room and watched his Woody Allen collection over and over.  Or when the nice boy was busy or preoccupied and I’d realize that I didn’t have close friends here.  There was plenty of time to be lonely.  But I’d never been alone.

Now I am alone.  And now I know that I can’t separate it from lonely.  I am so.  crushingly.  lonely.

I still feel like I need to know what it’s like to be alone and to be okay with it.  I’ve gotten glimpses of it before.  Sometime when it was still chilly out in the city, a little before spring, I remember walking down Broadway and listening to good music and feeling really full, like there was a light inside me.  I was alone with my music and my light and I felt good.

But sometimes I was on the phone with the nice boy and I was really pleased with my life.  And I would think, would I still be happy if I weren’t on the phone, connected to someone else via towers and signals?  Can I live in this moment with myself and my music and my light?  And the answer was no.  So I wanted to find out, I wanted to know what the curiosity existed for, was there a reason?  I want to go back to that time and find that niggling curiosity, find it and squash it, put it out and douse it with ice water to make sure it’s gone.  Because it has made me alone and it has made me lonely.

May is National Masturbation Month

And I think that makes it the perfect time to start, um, a relaxation experiment.  I can no longer afford to attend physical therapy, so I’m just going to continue with the stretching exercises I learned at the first session, dilator therapy, deep breathing, meditation… and masturbation.  ‘Cause what’s more relaxing that an orgasm, right?!

Another benefit:  the Implanon-related spotting seems to have slowed or stopped.  Yay!  Maybe vulvodynia isn’t so bad, I’ve spent a long time on this yesterday (come on, the dilators take forever, it’s not like this is *just* for fun) and it feels like I accomplished something.  I got off a few times and made it all the way up to the last dilator.  Nevermind that it’s study week and I haven’t really done much for classes.  What a productive day.

Just because I’m super excited about this, repeated for emphasis:

I made it up to the last dilator!!

I’m going to throw myself a party in public.  Okay, so this will probably amount to me getting some kind of treat and listening to happy music and skipping around a little bit, but I’ll call it a party.  No, I know… I’ll mentally co-opt a friend’s party this weekend and pretend like everyone’s there to celebrate meeee!!

New Toy!

Okay, I guess it’s not quite a toy, but my new PinkCup came today, all the way from the Czech Republic!  It’s soo tiny and adorable, the whole thing, stem included, is about the length of my ring finger (and I’ll probably be removing the stem, which makes up a good portion of the length).  It’s really squishy, but not as soft as I had thought it’d be judging from all the online reviews.  Plus it’s PINK.  Like a VAGINA.  Get it?  Ha.

Also it comes in a pink bag with white polka dots and a white ribbon drawstring.  This whole thing is so freakin cute.  But really, I’m not so frivolous that I’d spend money on a new cup just for the cute factor.  The Diva, which I got a couple years ago, is kind of the default American cup.  I got it because it was available at Whole Foods and easily accessible.  And even though it was totally life changing, and so so so much better than all the chemicals of awful, bleachy, dry tampons, it’s always been a little too long for me.  Plus, the silicone of the Diva is a lot more rigid and difficult to deal with.  But I’ve happily used it anyway, despite the slight pain with insertion and removal.  I mean, think of the environment and suck it up, I guess.  I’m trying to deal with my penchant for putting up with bullshit that I don’t have to, so I finally spent the money on getting a cup that will probably fit me better and be even more comfortable.

I won’t have to wait that long to use it, either, since the Implanon has me on a perma-period!  I mean… weird thing to be excited about, I guess, but I’ll probably only have to wait a day or two before I can try it out.  Plus I’d like to do a little bit of evangelizing to my housemates, and it’d probably be more effective to show them the cup before it’s been inside me.  Full review to come!

too many posts on the dancefloor

I have more interesting tales to share with you!  I’ve been using the super special pelvic pain concoction again for about a week now.  Tonight was the night that the burniness reached bearable levels!  There’s a trick to it though.  After applying, wait about 15 minutes, no underwear and no lying down.  Then it’s not so bad.  A significant improvement from the starting point of doubled over and teary-eyed for a good half hour.

Dr. Levey originally said that the mixture should be used for two months before I see improvement.  But the last time I stuck with this for any length of time, it was about one month and I noticed significant improvement as far as penetration pain was concerned.  What I never vocalized:  The time it didn’t hurt I had forgotten some pills and therefore used a condom.  For awhile I was secretly convinced I was just allergic to penises.  Then I remembered the q-tip test…

In which I find new and innovative ways to humiliate myself

Firstly, I’ve managed to (kind of) work out the issues that I thought were going to keep me from writing here.  Therefore, I have an awful story to share.  This builds upon an older entry which is now much more relevant to my life.  I guess I’m single?  Or something?  I know it’s a good idea to be by myself for awhile but I’m kind of working through it—and not necessarily in the best or healthiest ways.

So, I had to have the pelvic pain talk.  Well, that’s not true, I did it accidentally.  Either way, it was horrifically embarrassing (mostly because I answered the wrong question—it didn’t have have to come up [keep reading to see why this is a pun!]).

Dude*:  So we’re both on the same page concerning the seriousness of this encounter, right?

given the circumstances, i assume this is a question about ‘we both know where this is going, are you okay with that?’** and answer accordingly.

Me:  Well, I should probably tell you that I have a pain condition that might make things difficult.  If I’m in pain it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be doing this or that I’m not into it, it’s not your fault.  We’ll see where it–

dude looks kind of taken aback

Dude:  No no no, I meant like… there isn’t really any meaning behind this, right?

Me:  Right, of course not.

*is dead of embarrassment*

In an amazing turn of events, however, I was not the dysfunctional one!  Even though this was a totally casual, just for fun situation, I feel infinitely better knowing that he can’t get it up when he’s stressed out.  Because now I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that at least one guy has to understand what it’s like when your body doesn’t cooperate with your mind.  So (luckily?) we were both insanely embarrassed, called a raincheck, and tried to sleep.

Maybe before that, though, the pelvic pain thing was mentioned again.  I don’t have much of a grasp on timeline here, but… it wasn’t in the morning, so it had to have been before sleep.  I’m practically a detective, y’all.  He was apologizing and explaining, and I said, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m probably more embarrassed for having launched into the pelvic pain lecture at the worst possible moment, blah blah blah.”  And rather than making a big deal or demanding an explanation or causing a scene, all I got was a calm, “yeah, I didn’t really know what you were talking about.”  So all in all, slightly awful but nothing as nightmarish as I had imagined.  Regardless, thinking of how I must have sounded is enough to make me physically cringe and turn a little red.  Whatever, if nothing fun happens with this guy I’ll just think of it as taking one for the team in the name of consciousness-raising!

*he’s got an asshole tag now, see below

**this is extra lulz*** in light of this

***and also by lulz i mean what in the actual fuck