I always knew myself to be a sexual being. I was vocal about sex as a teenager and wanted to ensure that sexual pleasure and growth remained on my list of priorities as an adult.
By the time I’d found Orgasmic Meditation, however, I was worried that I would never have pleasurable sex again, and that life as I’d known it might have come to an end. I was in my late twenties.
It was April 2017, and after years of suffering the painful effects of a tight pelvic floor and interstitial cystitis, I was on a healing journey. It had been 6 months since the end of my three-year relationship, which had grown strained because the chronic pain I felt in my genitals had turned me off to sex.
I read about Orgasmic Meditation in Mama Gena’s book Pussy and knew that I wanted to do the practice. I didn’t even need to research it further. I went online to find myself an intro course. My busy work schedule meant that I didn’t have a free date until July, but I enrolled for the course and felt well on my way!
When I finally learned to OM, it felt like I had landed into my home. Into a place I belonged. I just really got it. Beyond being surrounded by people who were open about their bodies and sexuality, I understood almost instinctively the power of OM as a focused pleasure practice. It offered something different than the patriarchal sex script, and I felt a huge desire for it. OM promised me more confidence, sexual pleasure, connection, and community. I was in! There was almost something magical about it, too, that I could sense and wanted access to.
From my very first OM, I felt quite a lot of sensation. In fact, it was quite uncomfortably intense. There was this sharp, buzzing electric sensation on my clit, but I understood that if I could reach past the pain, I could access pleasure. I understood that it was about starting where I was and expanding in range to hold more and more sensation in my body. I went traveling for almost a month after my first experience of OM, but it’s not like you can forget what it’s like. I felt deeply that my life was changing.
I started a regular practice, which throughout the first year would go from sporadic—once or twice a week—to something I did on a daily basis. One of the first things I noticed was that I became better at being present with my body instead of going off in my head. Learning to go from my head back to my genitals in an OM was not only an exercise in mindfulness, but one in which I became more acutely aware of what my body wanted and needed.
The noticing step—in which the stroker describes the female genitals in value-neutral terms—began to clear away my shame about how my genitals looked and smelled. I became more approving of myself, my appetite, and my desires. This, coupled with the practice of asking for what I wanted in my OMs, quickly began to show up in my sex life.
In my three-year relationship, even on those occasions when my painful symptoms would go away, I wasn’t really able to enjoy sexual intimacy. I didn’t feel able to ask for what I wanted, and felt so trapped sometimes. As I practiced OM, however, gradually the frustration I used to feel—that I couldn’t ask for the level of attention and engagement that I wanted—was replaced with the confidence to ask for precisely how I wanted to be touched.
Hearing the strokers say thank you after receiving my adjustments was very healing. It helped me release my belief that the male ego couldn’t handle that kind of direct communication. This, in turn, has made it possible for me to both ask for what I want and also enjoy actually receiving it!
Going from painful sex to sex in which climax became almost reliable was nothing short of radical. I had mostly healed my genital health problems by taking a holistic approach that included changes to my diet and the help of an osteopath. But I would say that OM was definitely the last piece of the puzzle, offering that final 5% that made my healing complete.
For me, it is this feeling of surrender, this approval for what is, that makes OM so powerful. In the beginning of my practice, I would brace my body, clench my pelvic floor and hold the air in my chest, as I tensed in expectation of climax. Now, I am completely relaxed and able to breathe through the high sensation. Recently, after an OM in which I was able to stay conscious at the brink of climax for about five minutes, aware of my breath and my body, I realized that I am exactly where I need to be—present and accepting.
Caoilfhionn is a 31-year-old Senior Account Manager at an advertising & technology firm in London.