Women’s Health and life:

I walk alone.

(not true, there are wonderful people who understand and whom I connect with)

Recently, I had a sexual health procedure done.

All of the mentions of the cervix and feeling sick at the idea of it.

Dread, beforehand.

Tense body at the thought of the pain.

A wonderful consultant who made it as comfortable as possible

(It’s only now that I realise, or re-remember, that hearing anything about the cervix gives me that sicky feeling. A lurching, nasty, icky feeling, that I wish I could rid myself of).

It’s done now. This time.

The relief.

There’s the cramping afterwards. Wishing I had concentrated on my breathing.

Being gentle with myself. Or trying to.

Much gentler than past-me.

Again, the all-consuming relief. Wanting to curl up and have a little sleep.

A wide range of emotions at the Sexual Health clinic.

So many of them blocked. Numbed out.

Does how I feel match with how I think I do?

Lots of contemplation, afterwards!

The whole shaboodal.

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I try to tell myself to relax. Breathe.

There is a feeling of raw vulnerability, and anxiety over pain and discomfort, in advance of the appointment.

My unwritten and deeply encoded systems want to, instinctively, take my body and shut it all down. Close it off.

I internalise all the everythings.

Let’s just do this myself. Be physically present, but mentally drift off.

They want me to be present.. and breathe.

Dissociation:

Needed in the past.

Zoning out and separating from the room, was well-rehearsed as a younger person. Psychologists want you to be present and focus on your breathing or on distraction techniques. It helps.

That’s what I try and do during medical exams and it goes against old patterns. The It’s only me, let’s do it by myself, philosophy.

Scared to cause a fuss, historically

I have to communicate with those helping and doing their very best to make me feel safe. Going against what my body is inclined to do.

It’s me, alone. Solo.

Maybe I can trust myself to rely on others without falling apart. That, if that happens, I can cope.

That I can ask for help.

The conflict of

I manage alone.

(Can’t be seen, want to be seen)

During intimate procedures and examinations, I often put my hands over my face and eyes, so that others can’t see me.

I let a nurse hold my hand once, briefly, and that felt gigantic.

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Coping alone / Self-reliance / Hiding away

Nobody is allowed to see the truth of my fear or pain, even though it’s obvious that it’s there. And, even though I trust the person at the vagina end, it is difficult.

Over the years, I have become more attuned to my own mental state and (slightly) more aware of how tense I’m feeling.

My facial expressions and the words coming out of my mouth, previously, were miles apart. I’d ‘admit’ to feeling anxious (what’s there to admit? this is my body and soul’s natural response), but my expectations for calm and peace, were so low. I’d feel like I was mildly worried and would downplay my feelings and body’s sense of dread, even to myself.

I’ve regularly had the same person (or another of her colleagues) be the person with the speculum. Appreciating the care shown by the whole team. these people are incredible and do their best to make the experience as manageable as possible.

Facial expressions, my sense of fear and the levels of dread overwhelming my body

Versus

How I present my anxiety levels

Snap?!

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I’m fine! - it’s just what you say

Even when I’ve felt I’m fairly calm over the years, my face and heart rate don’t reflect this.

Anxiety has felt so ‘regular’, that my assessment on how I’m feeling (and my hope for any sort of calm within the storm), doesn’t always feel connected and true.

Breathing through it, trying to relax, dropping my bottom down and calming myself.

Don’t forget to breathe out.

Dissociation was formed as a coping (survival) strategy and is still there, even during a life that is feeling, gradually, more present and connected.

Overwhelm, independence

Scrunched up face. Tense vagina

I remember being told, previously, to

‘Try to relax! ‘

One of the things I struggle with, is needing.

I put my hand over my face, if in pain, because I don’t want anyone to see my expressions contorted into scrunched up, ugly, vulnerable. These are the messages of the past.

I don’t like the term ugly, at all, nor think that it ever describes anyone’s facial expressions.

As a younger person, I subconsciously wanted to look as controlled as possible. Feel as controlled.

I can still feel and act this way.

It hasn’t necessarily, even, worked. That wasn’t the image, I felt I presented ‘successfully’ (controlled, ‘together’) but I felt the need to try, despite this.

In control, I don’t get hurt

Worrying about letting go in front of anyone else, I became afraid of how I would look when crying. Just another way of holding back.

It’s definitely beautiful to be yourself and who you are.

Hard to see anyone hurting, but I want to be more natural and be closer to acting how I would when alone with (some, important), others present. Less inclined to stop myself. Less inclined to cut off my human.

I have lived, for years, with unwritten ruling, that, perhaps, I laid out in chalk (alongside stick figures and diamond-like stars) a million moons ago.

I’m unable to let my guard down.

Or can only let it down a certain amount physically when present with others.

The lack of eye contact and the shame is a killer, too.

I can’t let people see

Being perceived can feel difficult for many with ADHD, and the idea of relaxing my face completely and letting my jawline loosen in public places, is a strange and unusual idea.

During the procedure, I stimmed a little with my hands. Almost flapping them, in pain and in trying to disconnect from it- it soothe myself.

I want to zone out during these procedures. Feel separate, disconnected and do it alone. Even though I feel such loving and grateful feelings towards the people helping me.

I let them in emotionally in a minimal way (Why change the habit of a lifetime?!)

Part of me wants to listen to music in my private headphones and pull away from everyone, and anyone, in the room.

As much as I love and value all attempts to help and support me, there’s a part of me that feels I have to appease if I’m communicating with (and am in the room, with) others.

I must show them that ‘I’m Okay’. Reassure them.

There is willingness for them to stop at anytime. I’m spoken to gently.

These are beautiful, compassionate, understanding people who ‘get it’, but as a neurodivergent person (and, as a person who has experienced trauma), part of the way I communicate feels ‘performative’.

I can say if I’m in pain more now and can express wants or needs.

I, also, just want to ‘get it over with’, as the whole thing is nerve wracking.

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Contorted / Distorted, presence

Locked up in my own head

Gentle hands support me

I let them

Like the fall back exercises

But, my instinct is to isolate

In the stirrups

and on the white sheet bed

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Writing / hospitals / trauma / responses to being sexualised as a younger person