Tight Lipped: When Your Vagina Says "Nope:" Part I

Hey Loves,

I'm really glad I chose this topic for my first real post, because it doesn’t get nearly enough understanding or compassion in the world of sexual health. A surprising amount of people have no idea this issue even exists, and that alone creates so much room for confusion and self-doubt for those who experience it. For many, seeing a commercial on TV for a medication that treats erectile dysfunction is nothing out of the ordinary. Yet most people have never heard of—nor could they pronounce or define—vaginismus.

But if you’ve ever felt like your vagina has a mind of its own and functions more like a vise grip than an elastic tube, you’re not alone. Vaginismus, caused by involuntary tightening of your pelvic floor muscles during penetration, can be profoundly challenging, both physically and emotionally. It can cause a lot of frustration, to the point of feeling anger at your body for betraying you. But what if the truth of it is actually much more caring? What if your body is actually trying to protect you?

I imagine, in a world obsessed with Penis-In-Vagina Sex, it could feel like having vaginismus is a failing of some sort. Like your body is wrong somehow, and therefore you aren’t worthy of the kinds of things “other women” are worthy of. Other women who don’t have defective vaginas. I imagine having vaginismus could make you feel invisible or left out in some way—like you can’t know what “real” intimacy feels like. It makes a lot of sense if you were to worry you might be inadequate or broken. And I wouldn’t blame you if you felt embarrassed or even ashamed of all of it. I would never tell you that you’re wrong to feel any of these things. Never.

But what I will say is F that noise, because it’s crap. It’s not wrong, but it’s not right either. What I mean by that is… and I mean this in the most loving way… you are not your vagina. You are a person who’s as deserving of love as any other person, including those “other women” whose vaginas are open for business.

I don’t expect you to believe me though. I’m not here to tell you how to feel. I’m just asking you to be open to challenging your beliefs about sex and connection, and maybe reshape them if it feels right to you. To do that, you may also need to open your mind to replacing blame and shame for your body with curiosity and kindness. If you think that’s doable, then I’d be honored for you to continue reading. And you know what? Even if it doesn’t seem doable, why not read on anyway? Could be interesting, and you may surprise yourself!

💡 What we’re getting into:

Vaginismus is when your pelvic floor muscles tighten up automatically, without your expressed intention. It's similar to a reflex, like involuntarily kicking your leg if your knee is tapped in just the right way. It can happen in response to fear, anxiety, or past pain, or it can be secondary to another medical issue that needs addressing. Either way, this involuntary clenching can make penetration of any kind—whether it’s a tampon, speculum, or penis—feel intensely uncomfortable, painful, or even impossible. This can lead to frustration, sadness, and even hopelessness. If your body is doing something that you aren’t in control of, of course it makes sense if you ever felt this way. It’s a huge feeling of disconnection within your own body, and in such a deeply personal way. That really sucks.

I don’t mean to sound all doom and gloom, but I think it’s important to acknowledge that having vaginismus can come with a lot of emotional turmoil. And I want to say that’s ok because it makes sense. Not everyone will feel the same way about it, and that’s ok too. If you landed here though, I’m guessing you’ve got some feelings and opinions about it, and perhaps you’re even looking for ways to treat or cure it. So hopefully you can get something from this article, no matter what your feelings are.

With that in mind, I want to focus specifically on vaginismus as it relates to penetrative sex—also referred to as genitopelvic pain/penetration disorder (GPPPD)—as we continue, because well… I’m a sex coach. But I’m not discounting or dismissing the validity of wanting/needing to get pap smears, using tampons, wanting to conceive naturally, and just overall feeling a sense of discomfort. I’m just putting a pin in that for now, because it’s a lot to tackle, and sex is probably the hardest one to talk about. So let’s dig in….

Before we take a closer look, it’s important you know this: UNWANTED PAIN DURING SEX ISN’T NORMAL (shout out to Emily Nagoski, “Come As You Are: Revised and Updated The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life,” 2021). I put that in all caps, bolded it, and underlined it for those in the back. And I’m going to say it again, because that’s how important this message is: unwanted pain during sex isn’t normal. No cap. Full stop. Period. End of argument.

You may have been sold the message that it’s normal for penetrative sex to be painful and that you should just grin and bear it, but that’s a bunch of poppycock and hooey. It’s true that the first time experiencing penetration can be uncomfortable or painful, but it shouldn’t be unbearably so.

The context of why the pain is occurring is important, because it informs how you feel about it and what you can do about it. Even though pain (and even bleeding) may be normal in these instances, that still doesn’t mean you can’t try to troubleshoot it with the proper tools/skills and effective communication with your partner. We’ll revisit this later in this series, though. So stay tuned for more on that.

Would you want someone to shove a straw in and out of your nose? Or a pen in and out of your ear? I sure wouldn’t. So if your vagina is closed for entry, why should that be any different? Especially when we’re talking about sex. Because remember… 👉 unwanted pain during sex isn’t normal

And again, we're not discounting other, completely valid reasons for wanting to be able to put something in your vagina. You might want to use a tampon or need to have a pap smear. Don’t get me wrong…. It’s totally fair to feel at odds with your body for any of these reasons, especially when you have important business to conduct and the office won’t open.

But when we’re talking specifically about penetrative sex, I want to invite you to pause and reflect before trying to jump into a solution. I know the feeling of wanting a quick fix. I really do. I live with chronic pain, which includes involuntary spasming of my muscles. The desperation I feel at times is insurmountable. If only you could just open your vagina for business—that would surely fix all your problems, right? Or would it?

Understanding why penetration is important to you can be just as powerful as the solution itself. Sometimes… knowing the “why” is actually how you get to the solution. And you may not even realize that your “why” isn’t at all what you thought it was. But we’ll have to keep digging to find out….

It’s not wrong to want penetrative sex. This isn’t about shame or judgment. I’m just asking why you want it. Who or what purpose does it serve? Is it about pleasure, connection, feeling “normal,” or avoiding feeling broken? Or maybe you want to try for a baby. There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest with yourself.

It’s ok if it’s a difficult question to answer. Or, maybe it seems really simple to you, and this exercise feels like a waste of your time (though I really hope that's not the case). But as you think about it, also try asking yourself how you feel about your answer(s). Are you confused? Sad? Angry? Frustrated? Annoyed? Bored and starting to question what we're doing here? Again, there are no wrong answers.

Whatever you're feeling right now—that's the answer we're looking for. So really try to just check in with yourself and see what comes up. Do you notice any sensations in your body as you think about your vagina being penetrated? Are you tense or relaxed? Has your breathing gotten deeper or shallower? Are you buzzing with delight, or shaking with fear?

If you’ve realized something you haven’t thought about before, or noticed something interesting happening in your body, make a mental note. And also, celebrate the fact that you’re learning more about yourself, because that’s going to be key when it comes to healing. And for better or for worse, it’s a feat in and of itself.

What makes this so key? It's because your feelings—your true, unadulterated feelings—can actually emanate or transpire from your body through actions or sensations. In simpler terms: we embody our emotions. This can be a great thing when we know how to listen to ourselves with kindness and compassion, but it can also really suck if our bodies are telling us something we don’t want to hear.

We'll get more into that in Part II, because it's a lot to cover. So for now, I'm just going to ask: do you ever feel like you aren’t good enough because your vagina says “nope?”

When you’re struggling with GPPPD, it’s easy to slip into thinking you’re somehow less—less desirable, less lovable, less enough. But take a minute to really ask yourself: what actually makes a person worthy of love or connection?

Think about the people you care about most. Is it their genitals that make them interesting, funny, supportive, or inspiring? Probably not. I'm guessing you don’t value your friends or partners because their bodies function a certain way—you value them because of who they are.

Of course, you might appreciate things about someone’s body—like the way their hands feel when they give you a massage, or that they're taller than you and can reach a high shelf. But is that why you care about them? And do you think the people who care about you feel the way they do because of the way your body functions?

Your personality, your humor, your kindness, your curiosity—that’s probably what people connect most with. That’s what makes you a meaningful presence in someone’s life. Whether your vagina is ready for penetration or not simply does not take away from your ability to love or be loved.

So if you ever think your worth lives between your legs, I’d invite you to pause for a moment. Remember, the reasons why you're feeling that way are valid. It makes a lot of sense that you'd come to that conclusion. We're not here to gaslight you into thinking you're crazy for feeling that way. But then remember: your vagina doesn't tell great stories, or make someone feel safe, or build a meaningful life. You do that. And that’s worth celebrating (although I won’t lie, it would be pretty cool if your vagina could tell a story).

Ok, so we know that your vagina isn't attached to your worth (or at least we're considering that to be true), but it's still experiencing a very real medical issue. So, let's not ignore that!

Pain with sex doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong or that you’re failing at being a sexual person. Pain is information. Communication. A signal—sometimes from your body, sometimes from your nervous system, and sometimes from old emotional wounds. And that needs to be approached from the same perspective you would use if someone needed to rehabilitate a sports injury, or suffered an illness of unknown origin. It needs to be approached with compassion and curiosity, because that’s how you figure out how to treat it. You don’t want to shame a person who’s trying to heal from an injury or illness. You don’t reject them and tell them they’re worthless now. No, you don’t do those things if you’re trying to help them. So, why would you ever do that to yourself?

If that resonates with you at all, I want you to take a moment and just give yourself some love. Maybe even tell your vagina you’re going to try to approach her/him/them/it with more love and care from now on. And that you’re going to try to work together to heal, instead of feeling so much shame, blame, and pressure to be perfect.

And you may come to find out that your GPPPD/vaginismus is related to pelvic floor dysfunction, endometriosis, hormonal shifts, infections, or a history of trauma. Whatever it may be, your pain and struggle deserves to be taken seriously, not minimized, ignored, or bullied. So maybe you can also tell your vagina that you’re going to be her/his/its/their strongest advocate 💪 And maybe ask for some patience, as it can be really hard to do that, especially in some cultures and societies.

Starting with a thorough medical evaluation is a good first step, but remember that you deserve providers who will listen with empathy and not dismiss your experience. An exam is only as good as the person performing it and the tests being done to evaluate your problems. Know that you can ask questions and voice concerns. And if you aren't satisfied with the care you're getting, it's ok to look somewhere else if that's an option.

Pain shouldn't be something you have to tolerate in silence. You deserve care, answers, and relief. I know it’s not easy. I really do. But, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still what you deserve.

You deserve care that feels comprehensive and safe, information that empowers you, and support that sees you as a whole person—not just a "broken" vagina.

However your journey unfolds, please know you don’t have to be on it alone. And you are a person worthy of love—you are not your vagina.

I really hope to see you back here, because we’re just getting started. Vaginismus doesn’t define your worth—and there are ways forward that include healing, pleasure, and connection. In the next part of this series, I’ll be diving into:

And if you find yourself wanting more than just articles—someone to listen, reflect, and help you navigate this in real time—that’s exactly the work I do as a coach. So feel free to give me a shout, or leave a comment below👇

You deserve to feel seen, supported, and celebrated in your journey, and I’d be honored to walk alongside you ♥️

Love always,

PS: If you’re looking for community support, you might also find r/vaginismus on Reddit to be a helpful place to connect with others who get it. You are not alone!