Through the Pain: Surviving in the Shadow of Love

From Misunderstood Pain to Self-Healing: My Struggle with Endometriosis, Relationships, and Inner Wounds

In 2008, at the age of 23, I was diagnosed with endometriosis after a year of unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant. At the time, it was still a relatively unknown disease. My gynecologist said, "Oh, you have a chocolate cyst on your ovary that's blocking the supply. We'll quickly remove it and try to get you pregnant as soon as possible afterward." I was handed a small leaflet to take home 🏡.

An A5 leaflet containing only information about the surgery: laparoscopy and the chocolate cyst—blood outside the uterus. No information about the incurable autoimmune disease that caused so much chaos and pain. It felt like my suffering was reduced to a simple procedure, as if the severity of my situation was not acknowledged.I felt misunderstood and isolated, left with questions that no one seemed to have answers for.

The surgery was outpatient: in the morning, out by evening. A quick fix. "We'll perform the surgery on a Thursday, so you'll be back to work by Monday." When I woke up, I felt a massive pain in my abdomen. I couldn't turn, sit upright, let alone get out of bed.When I asked a nurse to help me go to the bathroom, I passed out from the pain. They decided to keep me in the hospital for one more night.

The next day, D. came to pick me up. The car ride from Aalst to Lede was hell. Every bump, every turn caused unbearable pain. I couldn't stand up straight and walked bent over, clutching my abdomen, groaning in pain.Climbing the stairs to the bedroom wasn't an option—I ended up lying on the couch. Even going to the bathroom was impossible.

On Sunday, D. went to play soccer ⚽️—pub soccer, with more emphasis on the pub 🍻 than the game itself. He left at 9 a.m. and didn't return home until 8 p.m., drunk, without wondering how I had spent the day.Luckily, my parents had come by to take care of me. I was angry—rightfully so in my opinion—because I was doing this for him, for his desire to have children.

D. wanted children badly, preferably many. I had always doubted whether I wanted kids. But wasn’t it a societal norm? House, garden, children… 🍼

At 18, we bought our house, a run-down shack that we renovated ourselves over two years. Mostly me, my parents, my uncle, and my grandfather—D. often slept off his hangover in the car outside. Every weekend, every holiday was spent fixing that house. After the house and the garden… shouldn’t the children follow?

After the endo surgery, I was pumped full of hormones, medication, cycle monitoring, and scheduled intercourse on precise days and hours. The hormones caused hot flashes, and the medication to stimulate ovulation triggered intense, severe pains. As if the endo pain wasn’t enough. And at the peak of the pain, when it felt like my entire insides were being squeezed out, I had to endure penetration 😣. As if the ‘needle pricks’ in my yoni weren’t enough.

I tried my best, but D. missed several scheduled sex appointments or came home drunk. After nine months of exhausting my body, I was done. I cursed every fiber of the unborn child I didn’t yet have. This couldn’t be meant to be. This couldn’t be God’s plan. And I… stopped 🛑.

During my hormone treatments, unknown growths were accidentally discovered—deeply embedded between my liver. My first doctor said, "You won't find any doctor willing to operate on this," and discharged me without further explanation.At a second opinion in Leuven, they determined the growths were benign and unresponsive to contraception. But what about pregnancy hormones?It wasn’t until 2018—ten years later—that I finally received confirmation that these growths were likely congenital and benign, requiring no further monitoring.

D. was far from pleased with my decision to stop. He said, "You don’t even want to try." Excuse me? I had been trying for two years, including nine months of physical and emotional deterioration. And no, I didn’t want to risk not surviving a pregnancy. Is that selfish?

I’m convinced this gave him even more of a free pass to do as he pleased—flirting more and cheating more.

When, in 2013, my card reader ♠️ told me his mistress would become pregnant by him, I was done. One thing was clear: I would never open the door to hear that she was carrying his child. I did everything I could to uncover the truth and ended the relationship in 2014.

What followed was a rollercoaster of emotions—pain, revenge, and completely losing myself.

Several men came and went—not because I was looking for love. I thought this would rebuild my confidence, that I could mask the pain by proving myself.If I was desired, that meant I had value, right?

But what it really brought me was emptiness. Every encounter pulled me deeper into a spiral of self-blame and emotional numbness. I wasn’t looking for love—just sex. I wanted to prove myself. D. had hurt me. I wanted to show that I was still desirable and that men were easy—any woman can get what she wants, even if those men are married with kids.

A period of self-deception, manipulation, and completely crossing my boundaries. It was the opposite of self-love. Alongside my physical pains, I was also experiencing deep emotional wounds. My pain threshold became dangerously high.

Faking, Crossing Boundaries, and Seeking Truth: My Journey Through Sexuality, Deception, and Self-Healing

No, a woman is never ‘hot and ready,’ nor does she ‘think about sex every five minutes.’

This was a truth I questioned myself about for a long time.

Is it me? Maybe it’s because of my endometriosis problem. Maybe I am the problem.

A woman needs initiation, warming up, and the right moment to fully surrender to her feelings and get out of her head.It makes sense—her sexual organs are internal, while a man’s are external.

But is it too much to ask for a man to please his woman in the way she enjoys? Sex goes far beyond just penetration. It’s about love, about caring for each other, desiring each other, feeling, touching, cherishing, and giving pleasure. What is sex without enjoyment, without connection? And pleasure goes way beyond penetration!!!

I am convinced that every man also has his own preferences. Of course, every body is unique.Every woman also has her preferences, and just because I am an endometriosis patient does not mean that my experience of sexuality is completely different from other women. Every woman has her good and bad days when it comes to experiencing sexuality. Our hormones play a huge role in this.

Try, as a man, to survive with such hormonal fluctuations—you wouldn’t last a day.

Don’t want to invest time in foreplay? Sorry, but only 30% of women can orgasm through vaginal penetration. If you think sex should be steamy and fast… nope, guess again.So, if you pull out the Kama Sutra positions, don’t count on any orgasm.

And if you think I’m wrong, guess again… You’ve been fucked, my friend. One thing I’ve learned: women can fake it incredibly well.

A lot of men claim they can tell when a woman is faking… 😏 You have no clue.

🥥 was so convinced of his knowledge and awareness, but what he still doesn’t know is that faking became a ritual. It became my escape from the pain.

After D., I went through a period of deep pain, disgust, and revenge. I was so done with every man—including D.—falling for the tricks of sneaky, bitchy women. I became one myself. I lured them into my web, destroyed them, and kicked them out. It was just that easy.

Do you think those men knew what I liked, disliked, felt pain, or no pain? No, not at all—because Fake it until you make it 🙏🏻. And to this day, they still don’t know.

I pushed past my boundaries—including my pain threshold—because of the endless emotional pain caused by years of deception.

Face Your Truth: The Moment of Confrontation, Self-Recognition, and the Journey to Healing

Until I traveled to Africa with a friend and was literally attacked by a cheetah 🐆 on my neck. The cheetah pushed me to the ground, with my face in the sand, and held me firmly. Literally: 'Face your truth.' What followed were deep insights: 'Yirka, what are you doing?'

The cheetah was my wake-up call. The moment forced me to be honest with myself. I realized that I kept repeating destructive patterns—I sought validation outside of myself, while I was slowly breaking down inside. This experience made me realize that I was neglecting my body and mind in exchange for an illusion of control and self-worth.I saw that my relationships were driven by revenge, self-hatred, and emotional numbness. From that moment on, I decided to sever ties with people and situations that drained and abused me.

Once home, all doors were permanently closed for current and future pimps and beggars.

The confrontation with the cheetah was not just a random event—it felt like a raw, unmistakable message from the universe 🪐. The animal, with its raw strength and determination, mirrored everything I had suppressed for years: my anger, my fear, but also my strength to survive.Lying with my face in the sand, I was forced to stop running from my own truth.

I began to unravel the patterns that kept me trapped: how I repeatedly sought affirmation from people who drained me, how I reduced myself to a means of earning love or recognition. The pain I tried to numb with relationships and superficial intimacy was, in reality, a cry to find myself again.

The realization hit like a sledgehammer—I had betrayed myself. The cheetah taught me that I needed to stop seeing myself as prey. From that moment on, I made a promise: I would protect my boundaries, honor my body, and no longer settle for less than I was worth.

This wake-up call marked the beginning of my search for my spiritual path, my healing, my way to recovery. I was seeking a relationship with a man who believed in the Universe and could strengthen me through pure honesty and sincerity. Together, we would go through the fire, supporting each other through the challenges of life.

The Dance with the Tantra King: Manipulation, Misunderstandings, and the Quest for Self-Love

Seven months later, 🥥 came into my life. A relationship that was supposed to grow into something miraculous, deeply connecting... the intention was there! One thing was certain, I was never going to put myself back in the position of the ‘whore’ out of revenge and endless emotional pain.

After D., I was searching for my spiritual path. 🥥 seemed to have already walked quite a bit of his own spiritual journey, gathering a lot of knowledge and experience. He was always honest—something I had never known with D. In hindsight, his honesty was just a manipulation of his own truth. I saw 🥥 as a master; that's what he claimed to be.

🥥 was aware of my endometriosis and fertility issues. He was convinced that we could solve this together, with sincere love and the right healing. Because the ways of the Universe are unfathomable and mysterious. After all, he was the tantra king 👑.

What I now realize most is how much he sought out and provoked the pain. I can still hear his words in my head: "Stay with the pain, Yirka, go through it," while tears rolled down my cheeks.Did it ease the pain? No, only when he stopped. Every time, I thought: it must be me, next time it will be better.The better he knew where the pain points were, the quicker he sought them out, turning every sexual encounter into a pain bench instead of a pleasure bench.

Every tantra session was accompanied by gritting my teeth through intense pain, which after a while became a habit, and I started focusing mainly on the meditative, connecting tantra part instead of a sensual, loving experience.

Am I saying I can't experience sexuality without pain? No, not at all. At the right moment, in the right atmosphere, with the right preparation and a listening ear, anything is possible—just like with every woman.

Until the moment when 🥥 told me that he no longer wanted to hurt me, but in my opinion, this just gave him a free pass to focus on other women. And that's what happened: he began offering tantric healing sessions to potential visitors of our meditation sessions. I was pushed to the background.

There I was again, with a huge feeling of guilt. Not only was I unable to give my man a child, but I could no longer please him in a passionate, sensual experience.

For years, I had been hearing how other women came screaming, squirting, and shouting in pleasure, how they praised him as the sex god—even though they had been with their partners or husbands for years, he was still the sex king in their lives.So, it was entirely my fault, that was a fact. If such a problem lies with you, why would you prevent your man from enriching himself with other women? Especially when it's sold as healing sessions, because when I said 'sex,' the world was too small: "It's not sex, it's tantra healing!!!!!!!"

He gave those women something no other man could: 'healing.' He was the guru of every woman on earth.

Since then, he kept searching for other women—through nudist saunas, dating apps, my circle of friends, anywhere.

The number of potential women for his crazy, twisted tantra sessions didn't always go smoothly, which led me to hear more often that my endo story was just an unresolved trauma, and that I had complete control over my healing process. I could heal it, but I didn't want to heal it 😳.

Until he saw a TV program by Kat Luyten about endometriosis in 2020-2021 and had to admit that my pain might indeed be real.

Endometriosis is a chronic benign inflammatory condition in which cells similar to those of the uterine lining (endometrium) appear outside the uterine cavity. This complex pathology often leads to chronic and severe (pain) complaints, with a significant impact on quality of life.There is first and foremost uncertainty about how the condition exactly develops. In addition, there is a range of varying functional complaints.

Despite the severe physical impact, my pain was dismissed by 🥥 as something I caused myself or could heal if I just tried hard enough.

At the end of 2020, I went to my endo-osteopath Colette Peeters. After the report by Kat Luyten and after several sessions with Colette, I found the courage to ask if I was 'abnormal.' Whether my endo story was interfering with my sexual experience?Colette immediately responded: "Yirka, it was Freud a century ago who declared that an orgasm through clitoral stimulation is for sexually immature and mentally disturbed women. A vaginal orgasm was described as a form with which a woman proves her adulthood. Clitoral orgasming women would be stuck in their development." That women still think they're abnormal, but this is long outdated."

Only a narcissistic man with an enormous ego can make such statements. Anyone who listens closely would hear that women prefer a combination of both.

Not abnormal at all if you know that the clitoris, just like the penis, gets erect when sexually aroused. Then do something with it 😣.It’s simply a matter of listening. What does your partner like and dislike? Don’t whine or act like a know-it-all.Honestly, it’s not that difficult. Only and only if your ego is bigger than your personality, do you want to be the conqueror and take the credit.

Once, during my turbulent period, I met a man who told me: "Oh, I can pamper the ladies."Uh, the biggest turn-off ever.

I’m not proud of my turbulent period, but one thing it taught me: 90% of men still don’t know what’s what, and their egos are too big to listen.Let’s be honest, one-night stands are hell. A good sexual relationship can only emerge when you know each other inside and out, you listen to each other, and are open to fully surrender to the other.

What do you think a woman is thinking during the first sexual encounter? "Am I not too fat? Are my breasts big enough? Am I sensual enough, flirty enough, playful enough?" And blah, blah, blah. It’s a game of "fake it until you make it," and what she’s really doing is conquering.

To this day, I still don’t understand why some people are always looking for an adventure. It’s only a bad trip, with bad sex and a huge feeling of guilt. If the grass seems greener on the other side, it’s only because there’s more manure 💩.

Foreplay wasn’t an option with 🥥 because he thought like Freud: narcissistic and egocentric.A woman has to orgasm through the ‘holy stick 🍆’ of the man. Clitoral orgasms were a gift from the devil 😈. He literally said: "For a woman, everything must take so long" 😳.Moral of the story: Just like everything else, over and over, and that's how I've seen many fake tantra gurus.

When I brought up Colette’s perspective with 🥥, he reacted with anger and aggression. He made harsh and intense accusations about Colette to me: "Who was she to judge this? What did she know about it? She’s not sensual, she lost her femininity. She didn’t have a man in her life, she’s full of pain?" She possessed the greatest pain of the man, so how could she judge?

I often think back to the cheetah experience, that powerful experience. It still teaches me that I have had too little self-love to this day. It’s a harsh reality and a constant reminder.

"I Asked Him to Stop – He Didn't Hear Me"

But that one night in 2023... It was after an intense period of much contact with Virginie. Virginie had left the ship again, and 🥥 was in a huge frustrating period.We had watched a movie together, a quiet evening.Before I could get up from the couch, I had an enormous pain attack. It felt like knives 🔪 were stabbing into my stomach, as if everything inside me was about to explode through my yoni.The pain was unbearable. I fell off the couch onto the floor, crying intensely. This was the worst attack ever.

What did 🥥 do? He laid me on my back and took my pants off. I cried and asked him to stop. He said, "I will fix it for you again."

He penetrated his way inside, dry. I was even amazed that he could get an erection.How can you get aroused when your wife is screaming and groaning in pain?

He just kept going, I wept, asked him to stop, but he kept going and kept searching for the pain points. I was bleeding 🩸...

While he continued, my thoughts raced through my head. Why didn't he hear me? Why did my words mean nothing? I felt small, powerless, like I was trapped in my own body with no control. It seemed like my pain was no more than an inconvenience that could be ignored for him. I started doubting my own reality: was I exaggerating? Was this what love was supposed to be? But deep inside, I knew this was wrong. Still, I didn't dare move, afraid it would get worse.

Once he was done, he stood up, looked down at me, and said, "I guess I'm only good for the Universe to clean up the mess, no pleasure for M."

I lay there for a while, on the carpet, on the floor, in pain, in my blood, with an overwhelming sense of shame. Wondering what my life was even worth...