In a gentle pink room, I sat in the chair, my legs pried open.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You're 27. You should start thinking about having a baby."

No questions asked. I couldn't fathom a baby. I couldn't even put a tampon in.

Paradoxically, I walked out of a clinic that empowers women's health, worried I'd never live out a sacred part of my womanhood because of pain. I took what I was told as truth, that nothing was wrong, and continued to make excuses to avoid being physically intimate.

For years, I thought my body was defying me by tensing up and shutting out intimacy and love. It hijacked not only these special moments but entire nights and days after. What was meant to be one of life's greatest pleasures left me scared, anxious, embarrassed and ashamed.

Was my body actually protecting me because I was repressing my sexuality? Was it my body's way of communicating I was with the wrong gender? I thought I was destined for a life of painful sex...until I came out as queer.

Putting painful sex assumptions to bed

Physical pain and discomfort can be linked to emotions, said Jesse Kahn, L.C.S.W.-R