Still Don't Know What My Vagina Looks Like At 28
Welcome, Readers--both new and old!
So, what's up with the weird blog title? Let me explain: I haven't been on this blog for a while due to life; however, I've decided to begin a new project on here in which I tell my story--my personal experience and understanding--of growing up within the LDS/Mormon faith. I want to share my story because leaving the church affected my life on many more facets than I thought was possible (or that I even knew existed while in the church). Most of it was negative, unfortunately, but all of it has been informative and a means to help me grow, which is something else I hope to share. I know a lot of this is based on my perception of each event mentioned....but why else does someone write or share an experience they've had? The church played a large part in my life up to age 24, and I witnessed similar habits to my own while living amongst the heavily Mormon at BYU-I; this is why I specifically mention my faith growing up in all this.
As a disclaimer, I'd like to mention that this series of personal stories is by no means meant to be viewed as hate literature toward the church or my trying to steer anyone off the path. If it's your path and you're happy with it, be happy with it. Don't let me get in your way. I'm simply sharing experiences, which created habits that I later had to correct because they were very unhealthy for me. So, continue reading at your own risk.
On to the topic, then, I guess...I'm 28 years old, and I still haven't gotten up the gumption to grab a mirror and actually gain a visual understanding of what one of the most important, powerful, and sacred parts of my body looks like. It's a bold thing to declare to the public, I know; but it's therapy. And I guarantee you there are many women much older than I who haven't looked, either. Why? Because we're terrified.
Self love wasn't really at the top of my mom's to-teach list while raising me. It wasn't because of her lack of love for me...definitely not. I've always guessed it went one way of the other: she either didn't have much of a concept of it because it came naturally to her; or, more sad but possible, she just never got a chance to focus on herself in that light up to that point. Either way, it seemed the lesson to learn was to prioritize others' comfort above your own in order to avoid making waves.
So, I grew into a rebellious, awkward social chameleon who had no idea who she was or why she was always so fucking pissed off. It worked ok for me in high school, of course, because rebellion and anger are a normal function for a teenager. However, it got confusing and destructive once I reached adulthood and could no longer justify dramatic emotional outbursts every time I couldn't comprehend the depth of the sorrow that came from not knowing or loving myself.
I turned 13, my period started, and my self-loathing went up by several degrees. Suddenly, not only was my body an inconvenience to me on a daily basis, now; but, I also seemed to be a once-a-month inconvenience for the rest of the world. Being OCD, I always had a big issue with the cleanliness factor of bleeding out of my body with little to no control over it. It was filthy, messy, and every boy to whom a period was mentioned was left in a gagging crumple on the floor. I was humiliated on a monthly basis, and I had absolutely no say in it. I hated my body; and, as a result, I hated myself deeply for being a woman, for being born, even.
Something had to give, and nothing the Great and Powerful Mormon Church could provide me was going to help my growth. In fact, it was impeding it by restricting the information I could, in good conscious, find on the topic. And the more I looked at my fears and attitudes--how I saw myself, the world around me, my body, others' bodies--I realized that I was not only ridiculously misinformed (with a generous helping of a lack of information) but I was also hopelessly naive. I mean, people have full relationships with their bodies--and it's healthy to have such a relationship! Who would have thought?! What you put on your body is just as important as what you put in it?! It actually takes some mental strength and focus to fix my personal problems? What?! There's a whole list of things like this in my mind that I really just didn't know about before I was taught or figured it out myself based on context and research.
But book and social research only gets a person so far before hands-on learning is all but required. I can talk about loving myself until I'm blue in the face, but it won't matter if I haven't made that mental connection that allows me to dwell within that warm nest of self-love. I've made that mental connection before, while actively taking therapy; but I've become quite rusty and, currently, feel like I've lost my way a bit.
See, after I left college and the church simultaneously, I decided to finally go on the sexual journey I wanted, not what the church wanted to dictate to me via general conference talks and bishops' "chats". I needed to feel like I had taken my life into my own hands, and a big part of me--the part I had been terrified to even think about before that time--needed to be addressed before I could move forward in knowledge and experience. Essentially, I worked hard to shake my ugly naivety with one "sin" at a time.
Even then, my first sexual partner was barely responsive to my sexual desires, and my second was learning along with me. Not much room for learning beyond the bare essentials and mechanics. It wasn't until I met my current partner in crime that I started questioning my way of thinking about myself and exploring new sexual frontiers that I hadn't before thought interesting or even possible. Through my experiences and conversations with them, I've learned that self-love, self-acceptance, and self-respect are essential to a well-rounded sexual partner, or partner in general.
Together, we've been working on undoing some of the things I'll be addressing in later blogs. I couldn't tell you the amount of times I've had a mental breakdown over something sex-related that I later found comforting and even exciting. Dude, I still have meltdowns over sex stuff...but to me, that means I'm still learning and growing, and I don't mind a few growing pains.
I'm coming around; but there's still one thing I know for sure: one day, I will pull out that mirror and what I see will make me smile, not grimace. Not because I find it visually appealing, necessarily, but because it's mine.
So, what's up with the weird blog title? Let me explain: I haven't been on this blog for a while due to life; however, I've decided to begin a new project on here in which I tell my story--my personal experience and understanding--of growing up within the LDS/Mormon faith. I want to share my story because leaving the church affected my life on many more facets than I thought was possible (or that I even knew existed while in the church). Most of it was negative, unfortunately, but all of it has been informative and a means to help me grow, which is something else I hope to share. I know a lot of this is based on my perception of each event mentioned....but why else does someone write or share an experience they've had? The church played a large part in my life up to age 24, and I witnessed similar habits to my own while living amongst the heavily Mormon at BYU-I; this is why I specifically mention my faith growing up in all this.
As a disclaimer, I'd like to mention that this series of personal stories is by no means meant to be viewed as hate literature toward the church or my trying to steer anyone off the path. If it's your path and you're happy with it, be happy with it. Don't let me get in your way. I'm simply sharing experiences, which created habits that I later had to correct because they were very unhealthy for me. So, continue reading at your own risk.
On to the topic, then, I guess...I'm 28 years old, and I still haven't gotten up the gumption to grab a mirror and actually gain a visual understanding of what one of the most important, powerful, and sacred parts of my body looks like. It's a bold thing to declare to the public, I know; but it's therapy. And I guarantee you there are many women much older than I who haven't looked, either. Why? Because we're terrified.
Self love wasn't really at the top of my mom's to-teach list while raising me. It wasn't because of her lack of love for me...definitely not. I've always guessed it went one way of the other: she either didn't have much of a concept of it because it came naturally to her; or, more sad but possible, she just never got a chance to focus on herself in that light up to that point. Either way, it seemed the lesson to learn was to prioritize others' comfort above your own in order to avoid making waves.
So, I grew into a rebellious, awkward social chameleon who had no idea who she was or why she was always so fucking pissed off. It worked ok for me in high school, of course, because rebellion and anger are a normal function for a teenager. However, it got confusing and destructive once I reached adulthood and could no longer justify dramatic emotional outbursts every time I couldn't comprehend the depth of the sorrow that came from not knowing or loving myself.
I turned 13, my period started, and my self-loathing went up by several degrees. Suddenly, not only was my body an inconvenience to me on a daily basis, now; but, I also seemed to be a once-a-month inconvenience for the rest of the world. Being OCD, I always had a big issue with the cleanliness factor of bleeding out of my body with little to no control over it. It was filthy, messy, and every boy to whom a period was mentioned was left in a gagging crumple on the floor. I was humiliated on a monthly basis, and I had absolutely no say in it. I hated my body; and, as a result, I hated myself deeply for being a woman, for being born, even.
Something had to give, and nothing the Great and Powerful Mormon Church could provide me was going to help my growth. In fact, it was impeding it by restricting the information I could, in good conscious, find on the topic. And the more I looked at my fears and attitudes--how I saw myself, the world around me, my body, others' bodies--I realized that I was not only ridiculously misinformed (with a generous helping of a lack of information) but I was also hopelessly naive. I mean, people have full relationships with their bodies--and it's healthy to have such a relationship! Who would have thought?! What you put on your body is just as important as what you put in it?! It actually takes some mental strength and focus to fix my personal problems? What?! There's a whole list of things like this in my mind that I really just didn't know about before I was taught or figured it out myself based on context and research.
But book and social research only gets a person so far before hands-on learning is all but required. I can talk about loving myself until I'm blue in the face, but it won't matter if I haven't made that mental connection that allows me to dwell within that warm nest of self-love. I've made that mental connection before, while actively taking therapy; but I've become quite rusty and, currently, feel like I've lost my way a bit.
See, after I left college and the church simultaneously, I decided to finally go on the sexual journey I wanted, not what the church wanted to dictate to me via general conference talks and bishops' "chats". I needed to feel like I had taken my life into my own hands, and a big part of me--the part I had been terrified to even think about before that time--needed to be addressed before I could move forward in knowledge and experience. Essentially, I worked hard to shake my ugly naivety with one "sin" at a time.
Even then, my first sexual partner was barely responsive to my sexual desires, and my second was learning along with me. Not much room for learning beyond the bare essentials and mechanics. It wasn't until I met my current partner in crime that I started questioning my way of thinking about myself and exploring new sexual frontiers that I hadn't before thought interesting or even possible. Through my experiences and conversations with them, I've learned that self-love, self-acceptance, and self-respect are essential to a well-rounded sexual partner, or partner in general.
Together, we've been working on undoing some of the things I'll be addressing in later blogs. I couldn't tell you the amount of times I've had a mental breakdown over something sex-related that I later found comforting and even exciting. Dude, I still have meltdowns over sex stuff...but to me, that means I'm still learning and growing, and I don't mind a few growing pains.
I'm coming around; but there's still one thing I know for sure: one day, I will pull out that mirror and what I see will make me smile, not grimace. Not because I find it visually appealing, necessarily, but because it's mine.
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