The Part No One Tells You About Healing Your Sexuality
Lately I’ve been sitting with a theme that keeps showing up in my sessions, and honestly, in my own story too. Most of the people I work with didn’t realise that the way they relate to their sexuality now was shaped way back in their teens — not by one big event, but by the slow build-up of moments where they didn’t value themselves.
What I’m noticing is this:
The real pain isn’t always that someone crossed a boundary. It’s the quiet ache of knowing we didn’t hold the boundary for ourselves. That’s the part that sticks. That’s the part that leaves an imprint.
When self-worth isn’t there at the start, boundaries don’t really exist — not because you don’t care, but because no one taught you your value. And when you don’t value yourself, you don’t protect yourself. The deeper grief comes later, when you realise you abandoned yourself long before anyone else did.
That’s the wound people don’t name.
Dissolving What’s Been Sitting in the Body
When I take people into the subconscious, we’re not going in to rehash everything. We’re going in because these memories carry charge. They live in the body — in the throat, pelvis, chest, back, gut. And that charge takes up space. It colours everything that comes after.
When we release that stored charge, something shifts. There’s suddenly room. You don’t have to keep circling the same memory. And when the noise quiets, there’s space to even ask: What do I want this part of my life to feel like now?
The Things We Suppress Show Up Elsewhere
People think shutting down sexuality only affects the bedroom — but I’m watching it turn up everywhere. In voices that go quiet. In bodies that feel numb. In conditions like PCOS and endo. In chronic back pain. In disconnection.
It’s not because someone is “broken.” It’s because a huge part of their life force has been put in a box to survive. And the body remembers what the mind tries to forget.
Moving Slowly Back Into Yourself
A lot of people I see don’t feel safe showing their sexuality at all. Not even with themselves. They’ve split their expression into “the acceptable parts of me” and “the parts I don’t touch.”
So we start gently. Movement. Breath. Emotion before eroticism. Dancing without it being a performance. Sensuality in places where the body still feels safe. It doesn’t need to look like anything anyone else would even notice. It just needs to reintroduce you to yourself.
The Foundation Matters More Than the Fix
Before anything changes, we have to build the foundation. Self-worth first. Boundaries that actually honour the person you are now. Integrity with yourself. Otherwise awakening sexuality just reactivates the same old pain.
Once those roots are there, the past doesn’t run the show. The memories don’t decide your future. And desire doesn’t feel like a threat.
This Isn’t About Going Back — It’s About Returning to Yourself
People think reclaiming sexuality means becoming who they were before something happened. But it’s not that. You’re not trying to undo. You’re making space for what couldn’t exist back then: choice, safety, desire without self-abandonment.
Your sexuality isn’t separate from your power. When it’s shut down, something in you goes dim — not gone, just tucked away.
This work isn’t about forcing it back online. It’s about building the kind of relationship with yourself where it finally feels safe to emerge.
