Vajawnismus Part 2
Feeling like a wrung out washcloth
I’m fresh from my first-ever buccal massage, and I’m experiencing soreness in muscles I never knew existed. In case you missed it, I scheduled the massage to combat my incessant teeth grinding that’s waking up my partner on a regular basis. True to form, the journey became infinitely more interesting to me upon learning about the very real connection between jaw tension and pelvic floor dysfunction.
Fun Fact: ‘Buccal’ is pronounced buh-kl, and I know that because I had to Google it before I posted this before vs. after video to TikTok. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize upon posting that buccal also sounds a lot like butthole when you say it fast. People were quick to point this out to me in the comments. The internet is funny sometimes.
I arrived at Salve Bodywork + Massage in Kansas City the same way I arrive everywhere: nervous. Parking was easy (and free!) and navigating to the third floor of the building was uneventful. Still, I sat in the waiting area alert and bouncy for reasons unknown to my body or mind.
Posture
We started with a posture analysis, a test I knew I’d fail before Alexis, my massage therapist, asked me to walk toward her in a straight line. She asked me questions about my daily activities as well as any regular body pain I experience. I told her about the radiating spot in my back that moves every time I cover it with a icy hot patch, and she noted that my body tilts to the left whenever I walk or am asked to smile.
I know my posture needs attention. I was a tall child, and I viscerally remember bending my knees and positioning one foot slightly in front of the other to shave a few inches off my height whenever I was asked to stand next to my classmates. This went on for years, and even though I’m no longer insecure about being tall, true to form, my body remembers.
For Christmas, I got the posture-correcting sports bra made famous by Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour rehearsals, and I’ve been wearing it religiously. (Not an ad, I really do love it.) What I didn’t know is that poor posture has a documented effect on jaw strain, and vice versa. The way we carry ourselves can alter our center of gravity and the position of our jaw bone, whether it juts forward, dives down, or tenses. Misalignment can put unnecessary pressure on the jaw joint, causing pain, teeth grinding, and muscle tightness all over the body.
It was at this moment that Alexis started talking about how things left unsaid can “live” in the body, and is that something I relate to? My polite smiled waned upon being reminded, yet again, that most every problem I face in my life directly points to the hesitation I feel in setting reasonable boundaries and speaking my truth.
A few minutes later, I was naked and nestled on the massage table underneath a heated blanket.
Jaw position
Do you know what the natural resting position of your jaw should be? I’m asking because I guessed wrong, bragging to Alexis as she assessed my hips, glutes, and pecs that I make an effort to suspend my tongue in the very center of my mouth every night before bed. In fact, your tongue should just touch the roof of your mouth, with your lips closed and your teeth apart just slightly, creating a slight suction that allows the jaw muscles to relax fully. She pulled the muscles in my neck and shoulder like Laffy Taffy, noting severe tension, and explained how the muscles in the jaw can sometimes overcompensate for tightness in the upper body.
This checks out. For me, cringing is a full body experience made worse by my struggle with vaginismus. Whether I’m pulling out a tampon, staring at research papers until the words blur together, or practicing penetration, my pelvic floor tenses into my belly and my shoulders shift up to my ears. Pelvic floor physical therapy made me hyper-aware of this, but I mostly don’t work to bring everything down until I already have a headache or am being instructed to do so during a yoga video. Bad habit, and it means that I’m moving throughout my day in constant tension, and inadvertently signaling panic to my nervous system.
Fun Fact: Botox injections can be used to treat pain and tension in both the jaw and the pelvic floor by preventing overactive muscles from contracting, and therefore relieving pain caused by that contracting.
When Alexis transitioned to the inside of my mouth, any hope I had of deep relaxation during the massage temporarily suspended. Truly, it was one of the most peculiar experiences of my life. I had braces as a preteen, and I remember sitting for hours in the orthodontist chair as large gloved hands moved in and out of my mouth. This wasn’t like that, apart from the gloved hands in my mouth.
She massaged the inside of my cheeks with an olive oil salve, then her fingers pulsed in corners that I’m certain have never been touched by human hands. When she warned me of certain discomfort, I felt it. When she said I might cry, I did. When she asked me if it was too much, I persevered. Interestingly, it didn’t remind of braces maintenance; it reminded me of dilator training.
At points of discomfort, she’d linger, applying pressure for seconds that felt like hours until my muscle finally released. Pushing forward until there’s resistance and then maintaining gentle pressure until something gives sounds familiar, right? The sensation and the tears falling from my face brought me right back to dilator practice. It wasn’t pleasant, but the relief I felt was almost instant. The inside of my mouth felt more spacious, as tension that feels so regular that I barely even acknowledge its existence completely dissolved before my very eyes mouth.
“What was that?!” I managed to squeak out after each release, and she’d explain using some words I didn’t know (like psoas) and some I did (like tear ducts). The body connections were fascinating, but true to form, I had a hard time focusing on anything but the discomfort. I was grateful that it was fleeting.
We talked about my vaginismus a lot. Sometimes I surprise myself with how comfortable I’ve become talking to strangers about what was once my most guarded secret. Granted, the fact that I was naked and covered in oil in front of this stranger invites a certain vulnerability, but I appreciated her questions. She remarked that a year was a long time to live somewhere new without making any friends. I agreed, and we naturally circled back to things left unsaid because of course we did.
I hear you, universe. I need to set some damn boundaries. And maybe make some friends.
Deep Core
I told Alexis about cardio being my preferred method of stress management, and eventually we touched on the importance of deep core work. I absolutely hate that I’m about to be a person who insists that deep core work is important, but it is, especially for my specific brand of pelvic floor dysfunction. Forgive me!
I’ve been a runner for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never supported my running by focusing on any other muscle groups. Simply put, I run because I like it and I don’t do the other stuff because I don’t like it. Over the last year, I’ve found this to be extremely limiting. Running makes me sweat and keeps me lean, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I can’t do a pushup. Something isn’t adding up.
Enter deep core work. I haven’t dropped any pounds and I don’t have a six pack, nor is that the goal, but the way I carry my weight is markedly different, and I’m noticing changes in my running, my posture, and even my breathing. Deep core work makes it so every movement I make comes from somewhere. It grounds me to me. I’ve rolled my eyes no less than 500 times whenever I’ve heard a fitness instructor or wellness influencer say anything similar, yet here I am. To my absolute dismay, I can confirm that there’s something to tending to the forgotten muscles in your core.
After I got dressed again, Alexis showed me a diagram of the specific muscle groups she targeted during my massage and demonstrated a few exercises I could do at home to release my glutes, which were surprisingly tight. One day later, and it’s my neck and shoulders that are the most sore. It’s worth noting that I did not wake my partner up last night with my grinding teeth. I will continue to monitor the situation, and I might even make a part 3 should I decide to pursue Botox treatments.
In the meantime, I’m trying to shift my perspective about healing from vaginismus into a more comprehensive outlook on maintaining health in general. In part 1, I noted that addressing lingering issues in my body feels like a never-ending homework assignment. I think this is partly due to the dichotomous way I approached vaginismus treatment. I rarely celebrated or even acknowledged the little wins that signaled progress. I was either broken or fixed; having sex or not. Vaginismus became a Major Health Problem from which I defined the state of my entire wellbeing.
With every passing year, I learn more about myself and about what it means to truly care for my aging body. I’m proud to have (mostly) broken up with the self-punishment disguised as wellness that defined my twenties, so why am I still so begrudged? It’s possible that I’ll never be done with the pursuit of standing taller, breathing deeper, and exploring pleasure, but do I really want to be? Aren’t pursuits like that sort of the whole point?
Is it homework if it makes your life work?