I wasn’t brought up with a religious background, and I was lucky enough never to experience sexual assault or unwanted sexual contact growing up. As such, when I was diagnosed with severe vaginismus aged 19 after being unable to have penetrative sex with my first boyfriend, I couldn’t understand it at all. I felt like I didn’t have a proper reason, or an excuse as to why my body was “failing” me. I’d be asked in all of my GP appointments whether I had sexual trauma, and I almost felt guilty for saying no. But every time my partner put his hands anywhere near my vulva, I felt like someone had stuck a knife in me. The GP wasn’t able to go near me as my knees automatically
snapped together. I heard her say to her student doctor that it was the most extreme case she had ever seen.
I tried to use dilators - at first the horrendous ones you get prescribed from the doctor - and had no success. A couple of years later, I began pelvic physio, but nothing seemed to move me forward - I came out of each appointment traumatised by having a stranger try and put their fingers inside me, and the wait time was usually six months between appointments, so it was often a completely new person the next time. I wasn’t speaking to any of my friends about it, or even my boyfriend - it was like a dirty secret. I had been with my boyfriend for years yet I felt like I was a ‘virgin’, and that I was letting him down. I felt in a complete void of shame in which I was drowning. The oddest thing was that I enjoyed my sex life - everything we did was enjoyable and we had a deep intimate, sexual connection. But my inability to have penetrative sex specifically made me feel like I still wasn’t having actual ‘sex’, and that I wasn’t performing an adequate function as a woman. I
reconciled myself to the fact I’d never have children.
Fast forward four years, and I moved back from university. In those four years, I had continued with Physio and dilation, and had even had twelve sessions with a psychosexual therapist, having EMDR therapy. I had begun to talk to friends about the condition, and also now understood how it was all working. I was working really hard on managing my general anxiety too, and it was making a difference. However, I didn’t have actual physical progress - in five years, I had still only managed to insert about an inch of the smallest dilator.
In 2023, I broke with my boyfriend who I had been with for five years. I had another relationship afterwards, and then at the start of 2024 I was single for the first time in six years. I tried casual dating and even told one man about the condition - he was kind about it (I’m lucky enough never to have had a bad reaction), but it didn’t work out. Dating was difficult because I felt like a freak - they got bored of me after I wouldn’t sleep with them.
In June 2024, I decided to take a break from dating anyone and focus on my career and friendships. I continued dilating every day, and in the interim all of my friends knew and checked in regularly about how I was doing. I had a new physio who I was seeing regularly, and she told me to change the angle at which I was dilating and start using a mirror whenever I dilated. She taught me new breathing techniques, and in our physio appointments she allowed me to control all movement rather than putting in her fingers (or attempting to) straight away. I had a new round of psychosexual counselling, the first I’d ever had single, and began to feel increasingly confident and at peace with myself, without a partner.
One morning, I did my dilation and to my complete shock - after six years of no tangible progress with the smallest dilator - the smallest dilator slid all the way in easily, without any pain. Fast forward six weeks, and I’m now on the fourth dilator.
It feels like a completely miracle, and it’s a happiness I’ve struggled to describe. It wasn’t a coincidence that when I was finally free of all romantic and sexual pressure, when I was giving myself time and patience to do the dilation and actually understand and be unafraid of my body, it worked. I’ll never quite understand it, but clearly something just clicked and it’s changed everything. I love that I managed it myself, without a partner. My friends all cried with me, and even my physio became emotional when I told her. When I made this a collective and non-shameful journey, I began to heal.
I’m not at the end of the journey - I still have a lot of dilators to go, and I’m still yet to be able to associate the dilators with pleasure (rather than something medical), but at least I’m going somewhere. I wish someone could have told me that there is light at the end of the tunnel when you invest in yourself first and show yourself kindness. I hope that one day I’ll be able to choose exactly what sex I want, and to have it pain-free. But I’ve also learned along the way that all sex is sex - and any man who disagrees with that isn’t worth it anyway.
Sh! has a helpful blog post on penetration-free sex here xx
