Why Perfectionism Might Be Making Your Vaginismus Worse (And What to Do About It)
When we talk about vaginismus, we tend to focus on the behaviors we want to start — dilating consistently, attending physical therapy, having the conversations with partners we keep putting off. These are tangible, forward-facing, and relatively easy to track. Did I dilate this week? Yes or no.
But there's another category of behavior that tends to fly under the radar: the patterns we need to stop — or at least loosen our grip on — in order to heal. Perfectionism and the need for control are two of the most common, and they are deeply, quietly correlated with vaginismus.
Wait — Is Perfectionism Really a Behavior?
It might seem like perfectionism is just a personality trait or a mindset, something that lives in your head rather than out in the world. But thinking of it as a behavior is actually really useful, for two reasons.
First, behaviors have physical consequences. Perfectionism doesn't just exist as a thought — it shows up in your body. Think about the last time you were bracing for something to go wrong, or trying to hold a situation exactly in place. Did you notice your jaw clenching? Your shoulders creeping up toward your ears? Your abdomen tightening? Now think about where else that tension lives. The pelvic floor is deeply connected to your stress response — chronic bracing and guarding in the body translates directly to the muscles involved in vaginismus.
Second, behaviors are changeable. Calling something a behavior gives it edges, which gives you something to work with. It's not a fixed part of who you are; it's something you do, which means it's something you can choose differently over time.
Two Ancient Ideas That Are Surprisingly Relevant Here
Yoga philosophy has a lot to say about the relationship between the mind, the grip, and the body — and two concepts in particular feel worth introducing before we go any further.
The first is aparigraha, one of the ethical principles at the heart of yoga practice. Often translated as non-grasping or non-attachment, aparigraha is the practice of releasing our need to hold on — to outcomes, to identities, to the way we think things should go. It doesn't mean not caring, or not putting in effort. It means doing the work without a white-knuckled investment in controlling the result.
The second is santosha, which translates as contentment. Not the performative kind — not "everything is fine" when it isn't — but a genuine settledness with where you are, right now, in this moment of the process. Santosha is the antidote to the perfectionist's constant measurement: Am I there yet? Is this good enough? Why isn't this further along? It asks instead: Can I be okay here, in the middle of it?
These aren't passive concepts. They require practice — on the mat, and off it. And as we'll see, they have a very direct relationship with what's happening in the body during vaginismus.
Bringing in a Useful Framework: The Integrated Behavior Model
One helpful lens for understanding why we keep doing things — even things that aren't serving us — is the Integrated Behavior Model (IBM). It's a psychological framework that looks at behavior through several interlocking questions:
Attitude: How favorable do I actually find this behavior? What have been its benefits for me?
Emotional response: What comes up when I imagine not doing it?
Perceived outcome: What do I think will happen if I stop?
Social norms: What do I believe other people expect of me?
Social influence: What do I see the people around me doing?
Perceived capability: Do I actually believe I can change this?
The model is usually used to understand how to start a behavior, but it's equally illuminating in reverse — to understand what keeps us holding on to behaviors we'd be better off releasing.
Let's walk through it with perfectionism.
Perfectionism Through the Lens of the IBM
How favorable do you find perfectionism?
Here's the honest truth: for many of us, perfectionism has worked. Maybe you were academically successful because of it. Maybe it helped you excel in a competitive environment — dance, sports, academia, your career. Maybe the sense of order and control it creates genuinely helps you feel calm and regulated.
This is important to acknowledge, because we don't cling to behaviors that have never served us. Perfectionism probably earned its place in your life. The question isn't whether it was ever useful — it's whether it's still useful here, in this context, in your healing. This is actually a very santosha question: can you honor where perfectionism has brought you, while also recognizing you don't need to carry it into the next chapter?
What is your emotional response to the idea of letting it go?
This is where it gets interesting. When you imagine releasing the need for things to be perfect or controlled, what happens in your body? For a lot of people, the image is something like a rug being pulled out — a sudden drop, a grab for stability. There's fear there, and often a sense of powerlessness.
That fear is worth sitting with, because it's usually pointing at something specific: I don't know what will happen if I'm not in control. I don't know how to navigate that ambiguity. Which is a very understandable feeling — and also, often, not entirely accurate.
This is exactly the territory aparigraha lives in. The resistance to releasing the rug, the urge to grip harder — that's grasping. And grasping, yoga philosophy tells us, is almost always rooted in fear. Not a character flaw. Just fear.
What do you think will happen if you stop?
Many perfectionists carry a quiet belief that their standards are what's standing between them and failure. If I stop holding this so tightly, everything will fall apart.
But consider: some of the best things that have come into your life — have they been the result of an airtight plan, or have they happened somewhat sideways, through flexibility and openness? Releasing control isn't the same as stopping effort. It's shifting the energy from gripping to exploring.
And in the very specific context of vaginismus and intimacy: controlling a situation is the opposite of being present. Healing asks for responsiveness, not perfection. Aparigraha in action looks less like letting go of the steering wheel entirely and more like loosening your hands just enough to feel the road.
What do you think other people expect of you?
This one often softens when we look at it closely. The people who are genuinely in your corner — do they actually expect you to be perfect, or do they expect you to be human? More often than not, the expectation of perfection is something we're placing on ourselves, not something being asked of us.
What are you seeing modeled around you?
The cultural narrative around perfectionism is shifting. More and more, we see people being celebrated not for having it all together, but for being willing to be messy, to iterate, to start before they're ready. The concept of a minimum viable product — the smallest possible version of something you can put out to learn from — is a useful frame here. You don't have to be a finished, polished version of yourself to begin healing. Santosha would say: the version of you that exists right now is enough to begin. You just have to begin.
Do you believe you can actually change this?
Yes. But it takes practice. It takes catching yourself mid-grip and choosing to breathe instead. It takes building evidence, over time, that things can work out even when you're not controlling every variable. That evidence exists in your life — you may just need to start looking for it. Aparigraha and santosha aren't destinations; they're practices you return to again and again, like coming back to the breath in a yoga pose when you notice you've been holding it.
What This Has to Do With Your Pelvic Floor
All of this might feel abstract until you bring it back into the body. Perfectionism and the need for control show up physically as bracing — clenching the jaw, holding the breath, tightening the abdomen, guarding the pelvic floor. For people navigating vaginismus, this tension is not just uncomfortable; it actively works against healing.
The nervous system doesn't distinguish between emotional threat and physical threat. When you're mentally in a state of "I must control this outcome," your body is preparing for something to go wrong. Muscles tighten. Breath shallows. The pelvic floor, which is intimately connected to your stress and threat response, follows suit.
This is why aparigraha is, quite literally, a physical practice for people with vaginismus. When we learn to release the mental grip — the constant bracing for a wrong outcome — the body gets the message too. And santosha creates the internal conditions for that release: I am safe enough, here, right now, to let go.
Learning to let go of perfectionism — even incrementally — is learning to let go in the body. And learning to let go in the body is, ultimately, what healing from vaginismus requires.
Journal Prompts to Explore This for Yourself
Take your time with these. There are no right answers, only honest ones.
Where has perfectionism genuinely served you? Can you give it some credit before you ask it to soften?
When you imagine letting something be "good enough" instead of perfect, what's the first feeling that comes up? Where do you notice that feeling in your body?
What's the worst realistic outcome if you release some control? Is that outcome actually as catastrophic as it feels?
Do the people you love and trust actually expect perfection from you? Or is that expectation coming from somewhere else?
Can you think of a time when something worked out because you weren't controlling it? What did that feel like?
Where in your healing journey might santosha — genuine contentment with where you are right now — be most needed? What would it feel like to grant yourself that?
As you sit with these questions, notice your body. Are you clenching anywhere? What might your body be holding onto — and what might it be ready, slowly, to release?
Healing from vaginismus is rarely just physical. It asks us to look at the patterns we carry — the ones that have protected us, and the ones that might, gently and with great compassion, be ready to be released.
Aparigraha and santosha aren't lofty ideals reserved for the meditation cushion. They're invitations — to loosen the grip, to find sufficiency in the present moment, and to trust that you don't have to have it all figured out in order to move forward.
Perfectionism isn't a flaw. It's a strategy that once made sense. But it has a body cost, and your body deserves something softer.