Sexual Health | Evelyn's Experiences with Masturbation, Vaginismus, Anxiety and Marriage

 

This Post is broken out into two separate sections; Evelyn’s written first-hand account of her sexual health journey as a Latter-day Saint and the full transcript of Evelyn’s podcast interview.

 Evelyn’s written first-hand account of her sexual health journey:

As a single Latter-day Saint woman struggling with anxiety and depression, my sexuality was not a priority in my life. After all, I was single, wasn’t I? As an active and devout member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, my responsibility as I saw it at the time was to avoid and ignore anything related to sex. Whatever my well-meaning youth leaders had intended, the message that I had received from them was that anything related to sex - discussion, acknowledgment, unintended feelings of arousal, etc. - was off-limits. The idea that this avoidance might be contributing to my mental health struggles never crossed my mind. In fact, at one point, when asked whether I had a healthy view of sexuality, my answer was “How should I know?” In my mind, even knowing the answer to a question like this was potentially inappropriate, because it would require thinking about sex. Then came the challenge to make some goals in my life in all areas, including my sexuality. This made me uncomfortable. I have tried to do what is right throughout my life, and this felt like straying a little too close to the fence for me, so I started small. I would just think about my sexuality. That was all. For a few minutes, I would consider that this part of myself that I had isolated, ignored, and disconnected was, in fact, a legitimate part of me. Over time, this few minutes of thought led to study. I read books written by members of the Church and other Christian authors and considered what they had to say. I prayed about what I was reading and my own questions. I became increasingly certain that sexuality and desire are God-given and an important part of being whole and complete. As I came to this understanding, some truly unexpected things began to happen. The first noticeable change was that I began to feel differently about certain TV shows. Many comedies use sex as a primary source of humor. Where these shows had not bothered me previously, I began to feel uncomfortable with the way that they were portraying sexuality. Using this gift from God for a cheap laugh began to affect me more. Studying and thinking and acknowledging my own sexuality made it feel more sacred to me, not less. I changed some of my media habits to reflect my new understanding. This led to a closer relationship with God. I also began to feel better about myself. I felt more comfortable in my own skin. I worried less about what others thought about me, and felt less need to hide behind a mask of whatever I thought others wanted to see. My symptoms of anxiety and depression began to decrease. This was a shock to me, but I realized that accepting my own sexuality and desires allowed me to stop fragmenting myself. I became more whole and more authentic. My relationships did not suffer for letting go of my carefully constructed mask. I became closer to my roommate as we had vulnerable discussions and talked - and sometimes laughed - together about our shared insecurities. Other relationships also improved. I began to serve others more and noticed their needs more easily. I felt more comfortable reaching out to comfort and help others in need. Eventually, I decided to take another step forward in understanding my own sexuality and desires. I decided to explore masturbation. This was not a step that I came to lightly. When it was first suggested during a therapy session, I had a strong negative reaction. I couldn’t possibly do this! It was wrong. I felt anxiety and pressure. I felt torn between a desire to please someone I respected by agreeing to try but also fear that trying this would ruin my relationship with God. As a child, I had stumbled upon the ability to stimulate myself and had done this occasionally for some time before I even understood what it was. The shame I felt when I eventually realized that this was what people meant when they used the term “masturbation” was extreme. I spoke with a bishop about this behavior, and put it behind me as best I knew how, by locking away that part of myself as completely as I possibly could to avoid even entirely unintentional feelings of arousal. Now, the thought that I might choose masturbation on purpose frightened me. I thought about this deeply for some time. Eventually, I made a choice: I would not try masturbation. I shared this in my next session. Once again, the results were unexpected. I didn’t consider this at the time, but this was the first real choice that I had ever made about my own sexuality. I had always attempted to do the right thing, but it was an effort to do what others told me to do. Never before had I exercised my agency around my sexuality. I h