Whether you’ve just been diagnosed with vulvodynia or you’ve been dealing with it for a while (and even two days with vulvodynia can seem like a very LONG while), you are now a member of the club.  It’s that exclusive membership you never asked for, never dreamed you’d get, and though you never pay the dues, you just can’t escape.  You are dealing with a secret pain in a secret place and it has stolen your sex life, your comfort, and your ability to think about anything besides your vagina and or vulva.  Prior to this experience, you never once uttered the word vulva, had never heard of vulvar pain, and probably didn’t even really talk about your vagina all that much.   

It’s such an awkward situation.  You are in agony, you are suffering, and you have to pretend like nothing is wrong.  Your vulva is on fire, it hurts to have sex, and you are protecting this information like it is a state secret.  You can’t explain to your coworkers that you have the flu, a headache, or back pain.  You can’t pronounce the official diagnosis without feeling your face flush, your heart race, and your palms sweat with embarrassment.  And even if you did tell someone you have vulvodynia, they would think you were speaking another language or perhaps suffering from a rare fear of Volvos.   

You wish you could return to that place of blissful ignorance where the vagina was something you pondered in depth exactly once a year during your pap smear.  Maybe you said a few grumpy words to it once a month when Aunt Flo stopped by for an unannounced visit.  Now, your life revolves around it, and that horribly, embarrassingly-named body part your doctor calls the “vulva.”  

If you’re like me, when you finally figured out what was causing the intense pain in your nether-regions, you were at the top of a gigantic mountain of research, doctor’s visits, and useless creams or yeast-infection medications.  You were so ecstatic to find a doctor who had a name for your pain that you left the office actually feeling happy for the first time since the saga began.  It wasn’t until the euphoria faded and you started your internet research that you realized a diagnosis does not necessarily lead to a cure.  In fact, as you sifted through the research available on vulvodynia, you most likely began to feel something like despair.   

The physical pain of vulvodynia is one thing.  The emotional turmoil it brings along with it is quite another.  The panic, fear, terror, horror, despair, anger, depression, and loneliness can feel exhausting, overwhelming, and absolutely impossible to face.  During my years as a sufferer, I longed for someone to talk to, someone who could offer an understanding ear – someone who didn’t mind hearing about this strange and private pain.  I had family members who listened and supported me every step of the way, but nobody had been through this pain, and nobody could offer a beacon of light to lead the way to a better life.  I needed somebody who understood. 

The intent of my blog is to guide you through the emotional turmoil of dealing with vulvodynia.  I am a life coach, trained by Martha Beck, Meadow DeVor, and Brooke Castillo.  Martha Beck coaches specialize in thought work, which essentially means learning to understand your own thinking and how your thoughts create your emotions.  As a former vulvodynia sufferer, I understand the physical and emotional pain of vulvodynia, and I would like nothing more than to help fellow sufferers find their way back to peace, happiness, and joy.  It CAN be done.  

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