I Need Therapy

I often wonder when touching myself started to repulse me. When I think back to my childhood I can’t remember a time that I was curious about the situation between my legs. There were times when I would prevent myself from going pee because I didn’t want to miss out on whatever fun was happening around me. Sometimes, I would squeeze my thighs together so tightly that I think I may have given myself a tiny clitoral orgasm. The satisfaction in that must have been enough to keep me uninterested in actually removing my clothes and fully checking out the area. On the other hand, I think these moments should have sparked more curiosity.

During adolescence, I remember discovering websites like gurl.com (anyone else remember that site?), and finding books about sex at my best friend’s house. Even after these incidents, I never ran home and did an inspection on myself. I must have felt shame or maybe I thought that no one else was having these thoughts. That could be why, to this day, I cannot get myself off. Of course I’ve used vibrators (with some success), but even if I am successful I feel sick to my stomach afterwards. It may sound insane, but I actually get nauseated and I have no idea why.

In college I majored in Women’s Gender and Sexuality Studies and learned a lot about not only me, but the world I live in. I believe that women’s bodies are put through so much and are stronger because of it. Like many other women, I struggle with body image issues and I’m constantly reminding myself that Instagram isn’t reality. Yet, with all the knowledge I have, I can’t look my pussy in the eye and love her.

The day after I turned 16 I took myself and my newly earned license and lost my virginity. Not because I loved the guy, but because I felt like I needed to get it over with. I drove 45 minutes away from my tiny town to hook up with a dude I met on Facebook just because no one in my high school knew him. I think this is valid because this crucial moment in my 16-year-old life was treated like something I needed to check off my “to do” list. I can remember texting the guy a day or so later to let him know that I wasn’t actually interested. Perhaps this moment meant nothing to me because I had yet to ever properly connect with myself. This transactional sex became a theme in my life and was even something I was proud of at one point. Don’t get me wrong, I was getting pleasure from a lot of these transactions and even sometimes orgasms. It’s like instead of taking care of business myself, I was finding randoms to do the job for me.

Now, quite a few years later, I am in a long term relationship and I still haven’t connected with my pussy one-on-one. I have tried off and on these last few years, doing research and buying new toys. After watching the GOOP Netflix series I was inspired and determined to make myself cum. I put in little to no effort and soon gave up on the dream once again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful that I’m capable of cumming and that my partner cares deeply about my pleasure. Still, I often feel that I’m missing out on something or that there is a better orgasm out there I could be giving myself. I’m sure there is some repressed memory or shame from childhood that is holding me back from greatness. Once I’m able to afford therapy I might just find out.