What pisses me off is that I will never know if I was actually raped or not and by actually I mean vaginally. This comes up because of the possible but still doubted memory of my underwear being off while being abused and the words having to do with kissing it to make it better.
I’ve written this before but before I got married, I was a virgin, whatever the hell that means now, but I had never been to a gynecologist before. I went to get birth control pills before the wedding. when he went to do the pelvic ( he was really nice) I couldn’t open my legs, I mean it was literally impossible. He tried to help me to relax and I was kind of detached, I don’t remember feeling scared, I’m sure I was nervous, who wouldn’t be, but I don’t remember being scared. No matter what we did I couldn’t get my legs apart. The doctor finally became exhausted, literally, and gave up on the pelvic. He gave me my prescription for birth control and let me go. I always wondered if he broke any rules by letting me have the prescription without an exam. 😀
Anyway the point is that, if I had been able to have a pelvic, he would have seen if I still had an intact hymen. That’s all. I have echoes of memories of vaginal pain but I had severe and I mean severe vaginismus during my marriage. Intercourse eventually became literally impossible but things got better with practice and they gave me tools to use, vaginal dilators, to help me relax when something was in there. It eventually got better and after my hysterectomy I haven’t had too much trouble.
So, I’m pissed off that I couldn’t get my damn legs apart so a doctor could have looked in there. My only solace is that is something had really happened, that kind of damage wouldn’t have been missed by my grandmother, you can’t cover that up. And I had evidence of virginity during my honeymoon. Sorry for the TMI, I’m just working things out and trying to reconcile with the images and feelings. I hate being pissed!