thoughts on pelvic pain
Recently, my therapist suggested I see a doula or another women’s health practitioner outside of western medicine. She said I have experienced so much pelvic pain, for so many different reasons, and she would not be surprised if I was holding trauma there.
My therapist has listened to me talk, for hours, about my general pelvic region. I’ve told her about the pain I experience with sex; my period not coming for months at a time; the frequent vaginal pain that feels like a knife stabbing (that I thought, for so long, was something that just came with having a vagina); unwanted contact experienced when I was younger; the burning in my ovary that has, on more than one occasion, made me literally fall over.
Sitting on my couch, writing this, I am in pain. It feels like a needle or toothpick—some sharp, pointed, object—is stabbing my vaginal wall, over and over again.
After our session, I looked up the names she gave me (of a doula and a pelvic floor physical therapist—she called one the “vagina whisperer” ?!!). They were two women, one black, one white, both with kind eyes and websites full of information about pelvic pain, treatment, and the importance of being believed. I was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that neither practitioner was covered by my insurance.
Recently, I told my younger sister (whose period keeps her bedridden for days) to go to a doctor, and then immediately retracted my advice. I couldn’t think of a single time seeing a doctor about my cramps, or other pelvic pain, had been helpful.
At 15, my pediatrician told me to take 4 ibuprofen tablets at a time to manage my period cramps. So I did. For over 6 years (I don’t want to know what the lining of my stomach looks like).
When I lived in Michigan, where my younger sister lives, a gynecological nurse practitioner told me the pain I experienced during sex was “because of the way things are arranged down there.”
When seeing an OBGYN about my endometriosis I was told the only way to get rid of the debilitating pain I was experiencing would be to get pregnant.
I could go on, but I won’t.
I know that our bodies can carry trauma (we’ve all read The Body Keeps The Score by now, right?), but I never associated my pelvic pain with anything traumatic (to be fair, until my therapist mentioned it, I never even thought of my pelvis as a valid area in which pain could be categorized). I always thought of it as normal; pain as part of womanhood. There is almost a sense that experiencing pelvic pain (whether from sex or your menstrual cycle or something else) is part of what takes you from girl to woman. Like the pain is a right of passage.
I think my therapist is on to something. It would be nice to see a health professional who considered my whole body and the sources of pain instead of just prescribing pain killers (or pregnancy) as a remedy. It would be nice to have a plan of care that considers all the things I feel in my pelvic region—endometriosis pain, violation by another person, pleasure, etc., etc. (it would be nice to have a plan of care that takes the things I feel into consideration, period). It would be nice for a medical professional to acknowledge that I have experienced a lot of pain and that pain does not have to be synonymous with womanhood. I think, also, there is something to the idea that the areas of our bodies involved in things that have caused us emotional pain deserve care—even if we do not feel physical pain in those areas.
That being said, right now I am experiencing physical pain (and emotional, but that’s a whole other discussion on chronic pain). My endometriosis has been flaring, or flared, for almost a week and has not only debilitated me physically, but has also made it difficult to focus on the simplest things (like having a conversation). Now, while I wait to have surgery and pray that will rid me of some of pain, all I can do is try my best to take care. I will rest when my body tells me to. I will allow myself, and my body, both pleasure and joy. I will attend to myself and do my best to meet my body’s needs. Fingers-crossed my therapist is proud of me.
I recently posted my very vulnerable chronic pain (and recovery) story. I hope it can give you inspiration!
This is such a powerful visual articulation of what so many women hold in their bodies but struggle to name or communicate. As a clinician, I see patients every day who come in unable to describe their pelvic pain—and your art does what words sometimes can't. Thank you for creating this. Art can be clinical validation in its own way.