Part of why I am doing this blogging thing is to be brutally honest with myself about myself.
I recently went back to school because I want to be a counsellor. Not just any counsellor, one specializing in sexuality. (Seems funny if you read my rant about “the talk” with my son but it is less awkward with other people!)
Why do I want to do this? I want to help people who are having problems in their lives sexually. People who, for whatever reason, aren’t performing well, or are struggling with their sexuality. I want to help them come to terms with their sexual struggle and what this means for their identity.
A lot of who we are is tied to our sexuality, in fact, probably too much. Women are told they need to be sexy to get a man and they need a man to have a family and they need a family to avoid ending up alone with a million cats and a rocking chair on some falling apart porch in the country. Men constantly hear how women don’t stay with “minute men” or how we are so often unsatisfied, creating a fear that no woman will stay if you aren’t the best lover in the world. (I think we can all figure out how struggling with homosexuality, bisexuality,etc causes fear and anxiety.. if not, google that shit. It is EVERYWHERE.)
What we don’t do is offer a safe world to learn and change in sexually.
Still not sure what I mean? Let me take you on a hard journey of mine..(You are lucky, even some of my closest friends are hearing this for the first time..)
A few years ago I met a wonderful man who loves me and respects me and who is great with his kids and mine. He is a one of a kind man, and we had a firey romance from the start. Our sex life was great (SORRY MOM) and even if our finances sucked, or we had a hard parenting day, I could look forward to snuggling up and knowing if I wanted sex, not only could I have it, I was GOOD AT IT.
About a year after we moved in together, though, shit got shitty. It started to really hurt when we had sex, and I mean REALLY hurt. To the point I was crying and he couldn’t even look in my direction or it hurt. (Okay, I may be overreacting, but it felt like someone lit my girl parts on FIRE.. can you imagine it? Don’t. It hurts to imagine too!)
I found out that I had HPV. (Yeah, that was a bloody shock. I had always been careful, knew the history of those I slept with, used condoms, etc.. yeah but uh, it’s pretty damn easy to catch. F*ck)
So.. okay.. go to the doctor, treat the HPV, go back to the doctor, treat it again.. it sucks, it is embarrassing, and you feel like absolute SHIT but the doctor says “It’s really common. It’s super easy to treat. You will be better before you know it”.. so you have a pretty good outlook.(It still sucks, GET YOUR DAUGHTERS VACCINATED!!!)
All that treatment, however, causes irritation, which, wouldn’t you know it, makes sex painful (wasn’t that my problem in the first place?) I mean, obviously, not always, but in me it sure did. So treatment is done, and hey, I still can’t get down.
My doctor doesn’t know what is going on so let’s go to doctor number two..tests, abnormal PAP..more tests.. biopsy..more tests.. LEEP procedure..(Through all of this I would like to note I got NO information..completely in the dark) WHAM! “You had cancer but we THINK we got it all with the LEEP”
(GET REGULAR PAP TESTS! IT COULD SAVE YOUR LIFE!!!)
Woah woah woah! (I know, you are thinking, what? Where the hell did that come from? Me too)
All THAT poking and prodding and crap continued to make it PAINFUL to have sex.. so hmm 2 years..no sex. As if that isn’t bad enough in itself but now we enter THE EMOTIONS.
This is the part that fuels my career ambitions.
I started to fall apart. I got really depressed, I cried all the time. If my hubby got flirty I was frustrated and angry cause he knew I couldn’t have sex, and if he didn’t I felt unwanted, and like he would leave. I felt like a failure as a woman, and I mean FAILURE. I couldn’t have sex, I didn’t feel sexy, if I could never have sex I couldn’t have any more babies, I had completely lost my identity. I felt like nothing. I kept asking my husband “what could you possibly want to stay with me for? I’m useless” and tell him to go find someone who could give him what he wanted.
It took months of him telling me I was smart, and funny, and kind, and all these other things that I even started to realize he wasn’t leaving. It took even longer, journalling, finding hobbies, etc to feel like I had some worth outside of my sexual ability.
I still struggle at times with feelings of worthlessness because we still have troubles sometimes. All that trauma down there left my lady bits a bit sensitive, and it does get frustrating still.. but together we are getting through it.
I want to help people through those types of feelings, I want to be someone who helps get people on the path to finding a new identity when any part of their sexual identity gets taken away. To see their trouble as a new way to live, instead of a loss or a flaw, and to be there for people in the way my husband was there for me. ❤