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Two years ago, vaginismus was my most guarded secret. In fact, I spent most of my vaginismus journey not even knowing a word existed for my condition. It was not something I spoke about to strangers online, or even to my family. Instead, it was something I went out of my way to pretend I didn’t have.
That all changed when I made the decision to pursue writing about vaginismus. I quickly had to become very comfortable with talking about vaginismus, posting about vaginismus online, and answering questions related to vaginismus.
I’ve learned in my outreach that shame plays a major role in the vaginismus journeys of a lot of people, not just mine. Shame is the reason I kept it secret for so long. Shame is the reason a market exists for the type of writing I want to publish. Shame is the reason your doctor probably doesn’t know what vaginismus is.
If I had $1 for every time the room fell silent when some unsuspecting well-wisher asked me what my book is about, I’d have enough money to buy all the fake followers I need for publishers to take me seriously.
What I want to say: No further questions, please.
What I actually say: Oh, my book? My book is about sexual dysfunction. More specifically, sexual dysfunction in women. Even more specifically, a particular woman’s experience with sexual dysfunction. Most specifically, my book is about my own experience with a condition called vaginismus. Are you okay? I noticed you’ve stopped making eye contact in a desperate effort to escape this conversation…
And speaking of publishers, did you know that every single thing you write in a non-fiction book proposal must be substantiated? Every passing idea, every meandering assertion, every buried statistic warrants questions like:
“What study backs this up?” There aren’t any.
“Who is researching this?” Like four people.
“What do the textbooks say?” They don’t.
After a long day of fighting with my proposal, all I want to do is curl up with a book I likely found on the shelf at the bookstore where my future book will live, or more accurately, I want to pretend to relax while I passively conduct research for my own book since “relax” isn’t really a thing I do anymore now that I’ve decided to publish a book.
How is it that published books, bestsellers even, find their way to my nightstand touting unsubstantiated, and oftentimes blatantly false information? Why am I receiving critical feedback that my no-nonsense tone is boring when there are sexual health books marketed to women that don’t actually offer any substance until page 56?
My impression of this pervasive structure is as follows:
If you’re reading this book, then this book is for you. You’ve come to the exact right place, and that right place is this book. If you truly want to be helped, then reading this book is the first step. I wrote this book, and that’s how I know that this book will help you in so many ways. We’ll get into all the ways this book will help you in the chapters that follow but first, it’s important to remember that I’ve had a lot of success with the methods I’ve written about in this book. I will explain those methods and show you exactly how this book will change your life. Please do not skip ahead to said methods since it’s very important to read this book in the exact order that I have written it.
What I want to say: Your book sucks and I’m better than you.
What I actually say: Loved your book! #womensupportingwomen
My book is my own effort to combat shame in this space, but I don’t necessarily want to be introduced to new people as someone who has vaginismus. I don’t think the opposite of shame is rebranding my identity to be Vaginismus Girl. On the other hand though, it sometimes feels like effectively marketing a book about a condition that hasn’t been written about very much requires a volunteer-as-tribute approach to branding.
While I’m not embarrassed to have vaginismus, sometimes suffering from it and trying to make a living from others knowing all the ways in which I suffer from it can translate to embarrassing experiences in my personal life. “Brittany can’t have sex” has recently become a frustrating shorthand for my book and its contents.
What I want to say: I had sex this morning.
What I actually say: I had sex this morning. (I’m trying to be more honest.)
I am not cured of my vaginismus, and throughout this process my idea of being “cured” has evolved. The well-wishers that stick around often ask me how my book is coming along and I find myself at a loss. How do you write about something with gumption and confidence and PROOF when you haven’t figured that thing out for yourself yet? How do you end the story when you’re still living the chapters?
What I want to say: I will be writing this book until the day I die.
What I actually say: It’s going great!
Sometimes there are no endings for some things and some people. The only true ending is when you have a clear feeling of your accomplishment and a feeling of aaahhhh! Accepting the fact that you will never have all the answers is the first step. Recognizing you have such a talent to even write about such a tender subject to and for so many women is a aaaahhhh moment in its self. Again another job well done. Done in so many ways that you may never know how many women you have helped and how many men they have educated with your writings. Exhale Dear One! As the saying goes "It's all good".