And the clouds are clearing.

Wow. First I am sorry to anyone who is reading this for the time it has been since my last post. I have been all over the place since then but finally feel that I am me. I am happy. The clouds have cleared and life is great again. Last time I blogged I was in a serious relationship I had been in for 2 and a half years. Well sadly that is over. We both changed and the relationship has reached its end. I was sad. I was mad. I wanted to piss him off and make him jealous. But I am happy and grateful that we had the relationship we had. He held my hand through the councelling and through the vulvodynia and for that I will always be grateful. It was hard. But it was worth it. And I learned that I could be loved for me, without the sex, without the favours, and at my very worst I could be loved for being me. Unfortunately I think this is the end of any form of relationship with him. I think he has played his role in my life, and it was a large role that I thank him greatly for playing, but I think he has done all he can for me and i for him, and it is time to go our separate ways and grow as individuals. And god is it EXCITING!. Its now a few months on from the break up. And these few months I have spent learning about myself. I have decided to try and join the police. It is going to be very difficult as I am still working on overcoming my fear of water, and Im not very fit. I have decided against buying my ex's bike and am instead saving for a Honda Magna. Very nice little bike. And I have discovered I am able to have sex without the need for anistetic and/or other creams and medications. It doesn't hurt! I dont even get a stinging sensation afterwards! It is fantastic! And on top of all this I have changed jobs. Okay its nothing fancy. I've gone from looking after special needs children to working at a supermarket. But I can work more hours, this allows me to continue pursuing the police, I can buy a bike and for once when I get home from work I don't have to worry about work! Today I found something which made me realise just how much things have changed. I discovered my diary from back when I was first diagnosed. I wanted to be a lawyer. I was success driven and constantly full of stress. I worried cause I didnt have a job. I didnt get along with my flatmates. I was devastated over the vulvodynia. I never wanted children, and I judged myself for what my father had done. I wanted to know what had happened. I demanded revenge. I was a broken empty shell of a person. I feel sorry for the me I was. However, things have changed drastically since them. I want to help people so am thinking of becoming a police officer. I still love psychology and plan on returning to study in the future. I no longer want revenge, I just want to play my part in helping making it okay for a little girl like I was. I want to be good at what I do, and I always put in 100% effort, but I no longer get so upset over something that just wasnt meant to be. I know I am good at what I do, and I know that I do not need to stress to succeed. I know I can do it simply by doing what I enjoy and having fun while I get there. I have a job, and its not flash but I am happy to be working. I have the most amazing flatmates, and am actually very close friends with one of them. I have kicked the vulvodynia (touch wood) and feel I have risen above the abuse. I am no longer embarressed, judging myself, or demanding revenge. I dont care what it was that happened, only that I am okay and that he shall never hurt me again. I am a biker girl and I am going to buy my own bike. And I am ready to move on and enjoy my new life. And the best part? Not only can I finally enjoy the physical side of a relationship, but one day I would actually like to have children of my own too. I think I would make a fantastic mother. :)

The Other Me.

I am success personified, I am strong, independent and intelligent. I am caring, friendly and kind. I stand up for myself, my values and my beliefs. I studied at university level at high school, have a diploma in law and am about to complete a degree in psychology. I'm not rich, but I manage my money well enough to never go without the things I need. Despite sexual abuse, being raised by a solo mother (who is an alcoholic), growing up in 'poverty' and attending a school where the success rate is minimal, I am successful. But this is just the me you see.

On the inside there are two. There is me and there is She. I cannot pinpoint the moment She arrived, by I felt it, I felt her, as she slithered on inside. She came without a bang. There was no welcome, no hello not even an introduction. I didn’t even realise she was there. She had made herself at home. She began to rifle through the filing. Lingering on details never before noticed. Like a detective or a spy. She made her first appearance after an unfortunate doctor’s appointment.

My partner and I, only young and only newly together, were like others eager for a physical relationship. I thought it was normal, but he demanded that I shouldn’t be in pain. The sting was not normal, and the burn afterwards wasn’t either. So I mustered up my courage, that strong independant me, and made beeline for the doctor to sort this thing out. Just a cream or a pill, surely thats all. But for me, that wasn’t it. Not at all. Googling my symptoms, my doctor exclaimed “hm yes I thought that might just be the case.” 5 pages of print outs later, I was confused, and not so positive it would all be all right.

I think it must have been here, she had found me right then. It was when they said that word, that life sentence, that curse. That is when that nasty other first put her 2 cents in. ‘Vulvodynia is untreatable, you are never going to be able to do that again.’ I got angry. No that’s Not It! I stormed off and insisted another doctor examine me. Again that nasty word. Yes it fit. It explained so much, but there was so much of it I didn’t want to deal with. It was a life sentence, a devastation to me, but the exact thing the other me was looking for. She bounded out of were ever she had been hiding. With no hello, no introduction, or even how’s your day, she began straight away with the business of her day. she seemed excited by it. ecstatic. “Ha you’re broken” she laughed at me. “Even your body hates you” “you will never be able to please your man, and he will leave.” It hit me hard, and she hit harder. But the first blow is the softest. More of a gentle warning. My man did still want me, and the strong in me demanded it was a hurdle we could overcome. She was sceptical. It became her game to see how often she could make me believe I couldn’t overcome it. Eventually I had adopted her catch phrase. ‘I’m broken’, the first sign of defeat.  

It wasn’t long after that She was given another golden bullet. I decided to change from a law degree to a law diploma, meaning I could finish that year. Awesome, I’m graduating! “But at what?” she demanded “at failing!” I t took a lot to explain to her that this wasn’t the case. That as a sexual abuse victim I originaly felt that as a lawyer I could put the men who hurt little girls like I was away, and make the girls safe. I had realised this wasn’t what law was about, and that I could never help these children in the way I needed too through law. Instead I felt psychology would allow me to truely help these children. And that I could use my bad to make someones good. She called bullshit on this one, and we fought loggerheads on it for some time. Only taking me dropping my guard for a short while and she would be in there, singing on my failure. Eventually I saw my diploma for what it was. It was me dropping out. giving up. but not for laziness, just because of its incompatibility with my life.  I was neither happy with it, nor unhappy. and while at the time I saw this as good, I would come to learn it was but another of her tricks.

The Vulvodynia was her favourite. I tried medication, and she would demand it failed because I was incapable of being fixed. I started councelling for the sexual abuse, her right beside me. She started to do doubt it happened. But I knew. She started blaming me. But it wasn’t, I was a kid. She then decided this was the best time to hide...to change tactics. The Doctors could scene her now, but couldn’t quite be certain. They made me do tests, they all showed positive, but with my other issues, She easily passed herself off as something else.  And with her not able to be detected, She was able to make her actions seem mine.

She started to do ground work. ‘You have no friends’ her main line was. Slowly she proved this time and time again. I threw a grad party, and other than family very few showed up. It was all over by 10... Regular bedtime for me and I’m considered a nana. I tired Birthday party... and like the thousands before it that too failed especially. Housewarming... well I got many one person here.  The proof was there. Maybe she was right. I tried making friends. One seemed to be good. Class mate. He even gave me a discount where he worked. chatted regularly and seemed interested in what I had to say. But asking for coffee was like pulling teeth “he hates you leave him alone” sitting next to him in class became a rarity “why the hell would he want to know you anyways. And eventually it was discovered he was taken “she hates you and he scared she is right, you are after him.” Then my ‘best friend’ walked out. I had asked her to visit the areas my father lived during the years of sexual abuse with me, she refused, claiming I was nasty, selfish and not her friend. I felt alone. All I had left was my partner.

But that was easily fixed. She had already sparked insecurities for me. I am not adventurous enough. I have too many problems. I am broken. and I had her. My partner was about to go to outward bound for 3 weeks. I was terrified. What if he met a woman better than me, more adventurous? She guaranteed that he would be gone within a week of getting back. I was distraught.

This time she was right.

I knew it as soon as he stepped of the plane.

He had returned with a decision to be made. to stay with me or to leave, and go as far away as possible.

I was devastated. Rejected. Alone. I felt unwanted, unloved. Unimportant. And She, oh She had a field day with this one. It was at this point she took the throne. I was fragile before he left, I was only just holding on. But now she had taken the leading role and she had charge of me

.

That’s when Her best friend showed her importance. Some girl. He had meet her on OB. This here was the Jewel In Her crown. Soon she bombarded me with suggestions that will was more interested in this Jen. She was the adventure I was lacking. And when will spent a night uploading photos to jen instead of consoling me She put her boot in. I was a mess. She was convincing me it was all over. that nothing else mattered. This was her first victory.  She left me crawled in a cold shower, Tears running over my face, feet covered in blisters, and my nails dug into my arms. Eventually I fought back. Insisted that I could be fine without will. And he had promised not to meet up with her I insisted was proof that jen didn’t matter. She saw differently. This was just a way to shut you up. He still wont stop talking to her will he?

The next few months were a battle. he wanted to be friends. I decided that was a good idea. Desperate to prove to her that he did care. that it wasn’t me he wanted to leave, that it was simply the pull of travel. This mean nothing to her. to her it sounded more that I was not a strong enough pull to keep him here so anything or anyone could come along and take him. as time when by, he decided that maybe long distance could work. This was a mini win for me, but She was already mighty powerful. She had already destroyed my self-esteem. I needed reinforcements. I needed help. I tried to ask, but she stopped me. She called me selfish, saying that this was not his battle and it was unfair to make him have to put up with it. She reminded me of what I had already put him through. the vuvlodynia. and then she showed me again, he doesn’t really care. He asked for space. something I was not 100% of the meaning. She claimed  it was his way of saying leave me alone I don’t want to see you or hear from you again. I didn’t really want to believe it. But she showed me. He said don’t be clingy. this meant don’t kiss/hug without invite first. she reminded me again and again of ever kiss that was followed with a push. Im sure there were others, but she has hidden them from me. She shows me again and again where he sits in jonnys room talking and ignoring me. and the worst she eventually started to put the idea that maybe he was interested in the new flatmate into my head. She showed how he didn’t want me to visit for lunch, because even work was better than seeing me. She pointed out his obvious priorities, and that I was very low on it. I was devastated.  It was here I realised she was a problem. She started taking control of my actions. my body began to respond to her not me. Especially driving. I would have someone pull out in front of me and instead of braking like a normal person, I didn’t care. or if someone came out of a side road and almost into the side of me, I didn’t swerve. I didn’t care. I began hearing her thoughts. Its just one human life. No one really cares. If you die you die, It happens to everyone. I was scared. she was beginning to win.

.

I tried to fight back. I picked up my st johns wart. guzzling a pill down I hoped that would knock her out for 5 while I figured out what to do next. I rung my doc. made an appointment. But I was ashamed. How was I going to explain this battle. how I had failed. how much she ruled the roost. I walked away with a diagnostic of mild depression and to continue the st johns. They were like shooting kids Nes foam bullets at an  enraged bear. of no effect.

It didn’t help my relationship. Maybe she is right, maybe he hated me at that moment. he snapped at me. over nothing. just a simple run to the gym might be faster than trying to jump start the bike to get their. He left. I left. I sulked. I wanted to die then. I tired to find help. Jordans. Stephs. No one was home. I came back, locked myself away. hiding. scared. Knowing that this was the end of the relationship, the end of the only support I have, and the end of my battle. She was going to win. I didn’t even get a txt to say sorry. Will and I talked about this. She was present of course. I am desperate. I need a life line and this is the only one I have. I convince him to continue together but him move out. he was originally for it being over completely but I convinvced him. a small win for me for now, but She is adamant he will be gone soon. he wants out. he hates you. he cant stand being with you. He doesn’t even want you around for his sisters birthday. I cry. I cry so much I feel like I'm all out of tears.

It seemed like it was going well. But she wasn’t going to stay out of this. I needed help. I felt I had reached out but I hadn’t enough. I wanted to reach out to William. She wouldn't let me. “Its unfair. look at what you have done to him already. hes been through enough. no wonder he hates you. He wants space not your problems. And space was what he wanted. She clarified that for me. She stated it meant He didn’t want anything to do with me, didn’t want to see me or hear from me. I was devastated. I needed him. I needed him to know what was going on. That I needed people. But he didn’t want to know. and It was unfair to say that to him because then the would never get any space.

I tried to get a job, something to prove to her that I was successful and could win this, and something to give William the space needed.. But this plan was not at all fool proof. The job itself seemed okay, but She insisted I was well out of my depth. One day I was attacked by a client. The was Her favourite part. She now plays it like a picture show, cackling like the witch she is. I panicked at work, requiring medication. This pleased  her to no end. She was thrilled. It was working. She had got me to take the pills. The first sign that she may be winning the overall battle. Not to mention that she knew, if she could destroy my career, then her victory would be imminent.

She had also been having a go with will again. She had pulled apart the last 4 months showing me the things will did that showed that he hated me. I was distraught. The She decided she had evidence that the Jen girl was still there and there was something. The night before Will had been too ‘tired’ after a family birthday party and cancelled plans (was miscommunication). This was already enough fuel for her. then she showed me his messages. there was one from the night before. I threw a tantrum. With that will broke up with me. The worst part is she had got her message wrong. it wasn’t from him but to him. But that didn’t matter, She had won this bout. She had finally destroyed will and I.

Now she meets her final frontier. Me. The Real Me. The strong, indepenant and intelliegent woman. who is caring, friendly and kind. The woman who stands up for herself, her values and beliefs. Who had succeeded and can succeed again. A woman who despite it all, Is and will be successful.

I realized that there needs only one of me. And that only one of us can survive.  Either I need to kill her or she will kill me. With this sudden realisation, that strength surged through me just enough for me to call out for help. Picking up the phone I called the Crisis Team. With the full bottle of pills in one hand and tears streaming from my eyes, I finally admitted what She was. And what She wanted. I had severe depression and she wanted to kill me. I wanted to kill myself. The next week was hard.

They took away the st johns, the only think keeping her from winning completely. While this gave the opportunity for people to see i need help, it also gave her an opportunity to give herself one last massive go. She yells at me it will not work. and demands to know why i'm bothering. In a seductive manner she claims ah but we both know the easiest and best way out of all this. Its tempting. at the moment more tempting than anything else in the world. She asks why, why wont i. I say i couldnt hurt those who care about me like that. She asks and who are they again. My mother - "a woman who you call for help and support that then turns it into a contest of who has the worst problems?" My grandmother - "a woman who abandoned you when you needed her the most, when her son raped you?" My Grandfather - "a man who couldnt have cared less about his first grandaughter graduating, and who doesnt believe mental illness exists at all?" My Sister - " the girl who blames you for her failure, because you required extra care after the abuse? who has said she wish i was dead?" My Partner - "you mean your ex who has little time for you, has broken up with you several times and who in 6mths time will be so busy in america he will forget you even exist?" My friends - What ones? the ones who come when they fear you will kill yourself but who never even txt u otherwise? they simply dont want the blood on their hands." And again Why? She demands. Because I want a life. And I want to get better. And I think I can do it. only 2 weeks and the medication will have you silenced.  Her final fighting words? We will see about that...

Its the end of the world.

The words "Yes, you do have vulvodynia" sounded to me as "your life is now over, please go home and crawl up into a ball, preparing for death." My diagnosis was hard. real hard. My partner clicked on pretty quick that sex was painful for me. He demanded I see a doctor. Nervous, scared and embarrassed, I took my best friend for support. First she made me take my pants off while she examined it. That was awful. It hurt and I felt disgusting. She made me explain the pain. At first I could only say "it hurts, alot" but finally words like burn, sting, acid, ripping and itch come to mind. She turned to her computer, opened google and typed in Vuvlodynia. I felt ripped off. She was an expert wasn't she??? and she was using google? Admittedly she had the right word. She printed off a document and said that was what I had. She gave me no medication, just a diagnosis. I was scared. It was actually the one I linked on the last post. Reading through it, it sounded right, but it didn't mention a cure. What it did mention was the sexual abuse. I was angry. I stood there yelling at him. I didn't care if anyone heard, or that he might not be able too. You see he killed himself when I was 11. He never was punished and I could never get justice. Instead I yell at him. I say nasty things. And I make him know that he is not my dad. I was distraught. Not only had he hurt me as a child, not only had it effected my mind, not only was I suffering flashbacks, now he had given me an illness I could never get rid of. I talked to my partner that night. It was hard. He encouraged me to get a second opinion, at least then I could discuss possible treatment options. I went to the sexual health clinic in Hamilton. The woman I saw was wonderful, but at the time I didn't know that. Instead I got mad, and upset. Again I was diagnosed with Vulvodynia. That was when I heard those words. "your life is over." It was only in my mind, but I could have sworn it was true. I went to see my partner for lunch. I was a mess. I couldn't stop crying. I told him that it was okay if he wanted to leave me, that I couldn't expect a 19 year old boy to cope with this. Instead he held me tight and told me he loved me, and we could get through it.
 They gave me medication. Pills called amitrypline. They were awful. At first I was upset I couldn't drink on them. I was 19, at uni and had a very active social life. I withdrew from friends. parties didn't happen anymore. And that was the end of me drinking, forever. To be honest, I think it was the best part of it. My family is a family of drunks. My uncle is an alcoholic. My mother is an alcoholic. My father was an alcoholic and a heavy drug. user. Even my grandfather drinks way too much. And my little sister (now 18) drinks every night til shes drunk. I think I dodged a bullet. 
That wasn't the only good that came from the vuvlodynia. While I heard "your life is over" what it really meant was "you've just been handed your lifeline." I kicked the alcohol. Woo. But  I also got a new meaning for love. You were a teen once, or maybe you still are. What was one of the main parts of your relationship at that age. The time you felt closest to your partner? The first sign it wasn't working? Of course, sex plays a big part in a new relationship, especially at that age (for a lot of people). For me, it was no longer an option. I was counselled in other things we could do, but I just couldn't handle it. Instead we connected on a different level. It to me was love. It was sharing our emotions, our lives. It was experiencing things together. It was being there for one another. It was simply spending time for one another, with one another. And it was wonderful.
I also got a new spark for "I can do this." I couldn't sit, but I am now less than 6 months from a degree in psychology. I couldn't ride a bike because of the pain, but I learned to ride a motorcycle. at the time I was diagnosed I was studying law, and not enjoying it. I knew it wasn't me. I have a diploma in law now, but it was then I realised I wanted to help people. I decided to continue with psychology instead.
 And the best thing about the vuvlodynia? It is a signal. A nasty one, but a helpful one. It signaled when I had worked through the sexual abuse. When it was finally over. It signals when I am finding something too stressful. It signals when I need help. Now it is there as a warning. When I get too worked up, stressed out or depressed, it pops up and says "hey, I think you need a break." Its like a forced relaxing bath. 
For a while I hated it. refused to accept my bits as mine. I compared them to my partners cat, Meg. She was temperamental. You would see her sitting on the chair, and go and pat her, then next thing she would hiss at you are scratch you then take off. Some days just seeing you enter a room was enough for her to lash out hissing, while others she would wait for a pat or a hug. While it seems like a perfect analogy, what I forgot was that it was part of me. And while its not great, and while I wish it wasn't there, its not the end of the world. Its awful, but if I work with it rather than against it, I can get through it and my life will be even better than before. Because Vulvodynia isn't something that happens to you, or something you have to live with. Instead it is a part of you. It is you getting sick of being ignored for life, and finally taking a stand. Its you yelling at yourself, "hey, Can your bloody well listen for once." For me it was that I needed to address my childhood trauma, and to take action against stress. What is yours? What is your body telling you? Is it your diet needs changing? You shouldn't drink so much? You should get yourself a more comfortable chair? 

A little introduction

Hi,
Where to even start. I'm a 21 year old psychology student. From the outside looking in my life is wonderful and I am a happy, confident, strong and independent woman. On the inside its a whole new world. Daily, I just want to run. run and run and run and never turn back. I want to run until my life, my pain, my world can never catch up. But the things I wish to run from shall never leave my side. Some days I cant walk. I cant sit. I cant stand. I'm on fire, I sting and I hurt. This is just how it is, day to day, hour to hour, living with Vulvodynia. Vulvo-what? Vulvodynia. To me it is where my muscles are so tense in and around my vaginal area that they sting. When I use the bathroom it stings like I'm pouring acid on fresh wounds. And sometimes it means that just the way I stand can hurt like someone is stabbing me there. For other women who suffer this illness it can be a very different experience. Vulvodynia is simply unexplained chronic pain of the vulva. This illness is awful to live with, but many of us do it, and do so in secret. I mean how many people, other than your doctor, would you be able to talk to about your difficult and painful bits?
I was lucky. I knew the cause of mine. But then again I don't really think lucky is the right word. Here I want to take you back a bit. Approximately 16-18 years. I want you to imagine this now. I was a cute smiley blond haired little girl. I loved my barbie dolls and my pet dog. And of course I loved my family, My sister, my mother and my father. And they loved me. But my father loved me in a special way. A way no father should ever do. When I was 3-4 he separated from my mother, and went to live with his mother. From this point on every second weekend and every other holiday I would make the 4 hour trip from my mothers place to my grandmothers house to visit my father. Sometimes he would have his own house. These times were worse. My most vivid memory was of a place about halfway between my mothers house and my grandmothers. I remember having to lock myself in his flatmates daughters wardrobe to hide from him, terrified of what would happen. I remember him feeding me kiwifruit and then offering me something a little different to taste. And these were only the beginning. Until only a month ago I couldn't brush my back teeth as the flashbacks and the muscle memories were too much for me to handle. Mouthwash was the only way I could even get to the back of my mouth. Bananas were torture. And still I can't handle water on my face without panicking. I can't go swimming. I can't wash my face properly. I can't even enjoy the feeling of the warm shower water running over my face. It all sounds a little silly doesn't it. How can being sexually abused at a young age do all this to a 21 year old? Your body remembers things. It learns certain sensations are dangerous, and are related to things it doesn't like. My body had plenty, and its taking time to work through them.
Life is not all bad though. As of a week ago tomorrow I have experience my first ever pain-free sex with my partner of 2 and a half years. (we hadn't actually had sexual intercourse at all for the majority of that) It was amazing, and hopefully is a sign that I am finally winning the fight against Vulvodynia. I just got a new job, working with special needs children at a respite care unit, and while I am terrified that if my boss found out I had been sexually abused she would assume that I would be inclined to abuse the children, I am super excited and looking forward to every minute of it. I am in my final year of my undergraduate degree and already a thousand doors are open wide. My boss has already said that they would like to take me on to do my placement for my doctorate once I get to that stage in my studies. I have been told to apply at two different universities as both think I will be a valuable student to have in their post graduate classes. My psychologist has said that I have finally dealt with the abuse in a healthy way, and that the flashbacks and effects will slowly disappear (and they actually are alot faster than I expected). My physiotherapist I saw for Vulvodynia has said I no longer need to visit her, as my muscles have began to learn how to relax, and its just a matter of time. And I'm surrounded by wonderful friends. From the outside looking in I'm set up. There is nothing I need to worry about, and nothing that could hold me down. If only they knew the half of it. Behind this strong beautiful happy woman is one about to break down.

For more information on Vulvodynia please see: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/vulvodynia/DS00159