Guides For Her

It Didn’t Start with a Doctor — It Started in My Head

When I first picked up The V Book by Dr. Elizabeth G. Stewart and Paula Spencer, I thought I was about to learn a list of hygiene tips, hormonal facts, and medical terms. I expected diagrams, not revelations.

But what I didn’t expect was to be told that my vulva’s health didn’t just depend on my body — it depended on my mind.

It sounded abstract at first. How could my mindset affect my physical health?
Then, as I read women’s stories in the book, I started seeing myself in them — the quiet discomfort, the unspoken embarrassment, the years of not looking too closely.

That was when it clicked: my relationship with my vulva wasn’t just biological. It was emotional.

The Weight of Shame I Didn’t Realize I Carried

Growing up, no one talked about vulvas unless it was in a whisper.
In sex education, it was anatomy — not identity. At home, it was silence.

I learned early on that this part of my body was something to keep clean but never to acknowledge. I didn’t look at it. I didn’t name it. I didn’t even think I was supposed to.

Reading The V Book made me realize just how much silent shame I had absorbed — shame that shaped how I treated my body.

Shame that made me downplay discomfort.
Shame that made me think irritation was “normal.”
Shame that made me believe pain was part of being female.

Dr. Stewart wrote,

“Vulvovaginal health doesn’t just start with the body — it starts in the mind.”

That line hit me hard. Because she was right.

My first step toward better vulva health wasn’t about products or prescriptions. It was about permission — the permission to look, to name, to care, and to exist without flinching.

Emotional Safety = Physical Wellness

One of the most powerful ideas in The V Book was that emotional safety is a physical condition.

I had never thought about it that way. But the more I reflected, the more I realized how deeply connected my emotional state was to my body’s comfort.

When I was anxious, my muscles tightened. When I felt judged, my body withdrew. When I felt respected and calm, something inside me relaxed — a soft, quiet opening that felt like my body exhaling after years of tension.

This was more than metaphor. It was biology meeting psychology.

Stress, fear, and shame don’t just live in your head. They live in your nervous system, in your pelvic floor, in the way your body reacts to touch.

Understanding that changed how I saw sexual wellbeing. It wasn’t about performing or “being good in bed.” It was about feeling safe — with myself, and within myself.

When I felt emotionally grounded, my physical health followed. Dryness lessened. Pain eased. My relationship with my body began to feel like a collaboration, not a battle.

That was when I truly understood what holistic sexual health meant — not fixing symptoms, but nurturing the whole self.

Changing the Story I Tell About My Body

One of the exercises from The V Book was simple but terrifying:

Stand in front of a mirror. Look. Say something kind.

At first, I couldn’t do it. I avoided eye contact — even with myself.

All I saw was years of avoidance staring back at me.

But something shifted when I tried again, this time slower, softer. I whispered, “You deserve care.”

It wasn’t dramatic. But it was honest.

Over time, that simple act — of seeing without judgment — started to change my internal script.

From “This is embarrassing” to “This is me.”
From “I shouldn’t look” to “I belong here.”

That mental shift was more powerful than any product or treatment. It taught me that vulva care begins with the language we use about our bodies — the thoughts we repeat, the stories we rewrite.

Because how we think about our bodies shapes how we care for them.

Why This Message Matters in 2026

Right now, women are louder than ever about reclaiming conversations around body autonomy and sexual wellness.

Online, you’ll see phrases like:

• “Your body deserves care without apology.”

• “Your pleasure is valid.”

• “Consent starts with you.”

But what The V Book reminded me is that all those truths begin somewhere deeper — in the mind.

Before you can embrace pleasure, you have to believe you deserve comfort.
Before you can demand care, you have to learn that you are worth it.
Before you can advocate for wellness, you have to start listening to yourself.

That’s the foundation of modern women’s health — not just medical knowledge, but emotional awareness.

What I Took Away

I used to think sexual health was about doctor visits, cleansers, or routines. Now I know it’s also about the quiet relationship I build with myself.

It’s about:

• Letting go of inherited shame.

• Speaking gently to the parts I once ignored.

• Recognizing that emotional safety is physical safety.

My vulva didn’t just need better care. It needed me to believe it was worthy of care.

And that belief — that self-trust — didn’t start in a clinic.
It started in my mind.