My Marriage Pain
t was 1985 and I hadn’t yet become the sex goddess that I am today. At the time, I had been married for 7 years to a husband that was kind to me but sadly, wasn’t too adventurous when it came to spicing up our sex life. Sex was okay and sure, I orgasmed and all that, but it wasn’t anything I anxiously pursued or looked forward to with unbridled anticipation. Yeah, it was just okay.
The year before, we had gone through marriage counseling which helped us as a couple while also making us stronger individuals in our relationship. Whether the counseling helped to expose cracks in our marriage or going through it was just a necessity of a maturing marriage, I don’t know, it just created a shift nonetheless.
Sex continued after our brief counseling sessions and I noticed that I was beginning to experience sharp pain while being penetrated. I changed positions, thinking it might be something as simple as that but moving around didn’t help. It was different than a monthly cramp: it was like a knife was being inserted into my vulva when we wanted to fuck. Penetration wasn’t fun and it quickly became an issue between us, no matter how we tried to make it comfortable for me.
After a few weeks of this, I finally blurted “I better get this checked!” and soon made an appointment with my gynecologist.
During my appointment, the doctor gently slid the speculum inside which caused a little yelp to slip out and a quick cramping, neither of which had happened during previous exams. I knew something was off.
The doctor didn’t detect any abnormal growths either inside or outside of my vulva which would have contributed to my discomfort. He suggested that perhaps the cause of my pain was internal and could only be diagnosed with a laparoscopy. He then shared his guess as to what it could be and I researched the suspected cause with veracity.
Turns out, a major cause for women’s internal vaginal pain is endometriosis, a disorder where the tissue that normally lines the uterus, decides to take a field trip around the body, most often landing on the ovaries, fallopian tubes, the intestines, the cul de sac (the area directly behind the base of the uterus and in front of the rectum), on the fallopian tubes, on the outside of the uterus, basically, anywhere else in the body although it usually sticks around the reproductive organs (literally and figuratively). The cells can randomly land on active nerve endings, wreaking havoc on the pain scale OR the cells can land on areas without direct contact with nerve endings in the body and when this happens, the unsuspecting woman, in the throes of trying to get pregnant, finds out her reproductive organs are a mess. Why a mess? Well, turns out those traveling cells know they should fill up with blood every month when they line the uterus but since they are confused and misplaced in the body, they just continue their purpose, fill up with blood and spit it out on schedule. But your body doesn’t think those cells should be there so they attack the cells with scar tissue to kill them and make them go away. But they don’t. They stick to their monthly schedule of swelling up and spitting out blood in places they shouldn’t so it’s basically impossible to combat this cellular imbalance. The body continues to add to scar tissue, adding to pain (again, depending on where the cells land) and infertility and that’s why there is no cure for endometriosis. Yep. No cure.
I knew I must have had it because what else would explain this pain that came out of nowhere? I was anticipating my procedure with relief to finally find out what was going on.
The results of the “lap” (as they call it in medical shorthand) did, in fact, have me diagnosed with Stage 1, mild, endometriosis, located primarily in my cul de sac. Whew! It WAS something and what a relief it was to know there was a real cause for my pain.
In my search for more information about this imbalance I found I had, I learned about the nationwide resource, the Endometriosis Association, and joined right away. Offering support and no-nonsense information, the monthly newsletter and in person meetings helped quell my building anxiety about this oft-misunderstood disease. I learned I was not alone and what my options were after diagnosis.
With the belief that by stopping my periods using steroids (androgen, male-based hormones), my gynecologist prescribed me large doses of Danocrin, the trade name for danazol, a male steroid. That’s sure to stop any period, that’s for sure! I was given a six month regiment to put it to rest and make my endometriosis go away instead of opting for surgery since I had only a mild case of the disease. And I sure as hell didn’t want pregnancy to allay my period, either!
The six month dosing of steroids made me get puffy, of course, as steroids often do, yet did little to diminish my penetrative pain. I still had sex and was extremely careful to just breathe through it because even though I knew it would be painful, I was just plain horny.
By the time the six months of steroids was over, my husband and I were quite aware that we were drifting further apart in our tenuous marriage. For the first time in almost a decade, we decided to spend Christmas separately with the comfort of our families, mine in New Jersey and his on Cape Cod.
We both came to the conclusion that we needed to separate in order save what little remains of marriage we had. It was, indeed, a painful time for us, and yes, we had stopped having sex, too.
Typical of people going through separation (and ultimately, divorce), I didn’t have sex for a few months then decided to get back in the saddle. I was soon dating a single man and within a week or two, we began having sex.
But I noticed a funny thing happened. Penetrative sex was pain free, no matter what position we were rollicking in, no matter what time of day, no matter where we were. I guess the Danocrin worked. Maybe.
Fast forward decades later from my endometriosis, painful sex, steroids, separation and divorce experience, I have come to a very different conclusion as to the cause of my internal pain. The knowledge I have gained as a sex educator and sex coach (yes, it’s a thing), makes me realize that my discomfort was, in fact, the physical manifestation of the breakdown of the relationship I had with my husband and the slow, painful death of my seven year marriage. I have been completely symptom-free for 35 years, despite the well-known fact that there is no cure for endometriosis and statistically, I should have retained the disease throughout my days of my period and fertility.
I have experienced pain free sex for the years since I let go of salvaging my marriage the husband and wife relationship.
And the world is now a better place.
