Blog - English

Sexual Competence – Do We Really Need It?

“I thought I was bad in bed – turns out I just didn’t know how to tilt my pelvis.”

Many people come to sex therapy carrying a quiet but persistent question:
 “Am I good in bed?”
What they often mean is: Why don’t I feel more? Why isn’t it working? Is something wrong with me?

And then – sometimes – there’s this beautiful lightbulb moment.
 A client once told me:
 “I thought I was bad in bed – but I just didn’t know how to move my pelvis.”


Sex isn’t just about feelings – it’s also about skills

We often talk about sex as if it were purely emotional or instinctive:

  • “It just has to feel right.”
  • “If the chemistry is there, it’ll work.”
  • “Desire should come naturally.”

But what if that’s only part of the story?
 What if good sex also has to do with awareness, skills, and embodiment?

That’s exactly the idea behind the sex therapy model Sexocorporel:
Sexuality is not just something we feel – it’s something we can learn.

Not by memorizing techniques, but by developing a deeper relationship with our bodies.


Body knowledge is sexy – and empowering

When people learn how breathing, muscle tone, or pelvic movement affect their arousal, something shifts.
 There’s pride. Curiosity. Confidence.

Instead of thinking:
 “There’s something wrong with me.”
They realize:
“Oh – that’s how my body works!”

This isn’t performance pressure.
 It’s embodied self-knowledge. And that’s powerful.


So what is sexual competence, anyway?

Sexual competence means more than just knowing what feels good. It includes:

  • Physical awareness: Can I sense and control my body? Do I know how to build, hold, or release arousal?
  • Emotional regulation: Can I allow closeness? Can I feel and express boundaries?
  • Cognitive clarity: Do I have a realistic and compassionate understanding of sexuality?

In psychoeducational sex therapy, we explore these areas not as a checklist, but as a gentle invitation to self-discovery.


Mini Exercise: Breath, Pelvis, Awareness

Take 5 minutes and try this – no pressure, no goal:

🪑 1. Sit upright on a chair
Feet grounded, spine long.

🌬️ 2. Breathe deeply into your belly
Feel your belly and pelvis move slightly with the breath.

🦴 3. Gently tilt your pelvis forward and back
Slowly, like a rocking motion. Notice how your sit bones and lower back respond.

🧠 4. Ask yourself: What do I feel?
Tension? Ease? Discomfort? Maybe even a flicker of pleasure?

This movement may seem small – but it’s a doorway.
 To noticing. To sensing. To reclaiming your sexual body.


Bottom line: Knowing your body is more than a skill – it’s a way back to yourself

Sexual competence isn’t just a “nice to have.”
 It’s a key to a more empowered, curious, and connected sexuality.

It creates space for growth – not through pressure or shame, but through awareness and agency.

Because great sex is rarely about talent.
 But almost always about connection – with your body, your desire, your authentic yes.


Curious to explore sexual competence in your own life?
In my practice, I offer body-based and educational sex therapy that brings together physiology, emotion, and relationship dynamics. Feel free to reach out for an initial conversation.




Fantasy as Escape – or as a Gateway to Desire? 

“I think about others during sex – but it brings me closer to my partner.” 

A client once said to me:
 “I think about other people during sex – but it actually makes our relationship better.”
Depending on your perspective, that sentence sounds either like a red flag or a revelation. 

So, what does it mean when our minds wander elsewhere while our bodies stay present?
 Is it betrayal? Avoidance? Or maybe something more useful? 

 

Is this cheating – or just human? 

Many couples operate with an unspoken rule:
 If you love me, you should desire me. Exclusively. Spontaneously. Often. And without any mental detours. 

But here’s the truth: our inner world doesn’t do monogamy.
 It’s full of memories, images, meanings, and impulses – and sometimes, fantasy is what helps us stay connected to the very person we’re with. 

 

Fantasy as escape? Yes. But that’s not the whole story. 

Of course, fantasies can serve as a kind of escape: 

  • From performance pressure
  • From boredom
  • From intimacy that feels too close or overwhelming

Psychotherapist Esther Perel, in Mating in Captivity, describes how we sometimes eroticize distance. That is, we need mental space to feel desire again – not because something’s missing in the relationship, but because closeness alone doesn’t always create erotic tension. 

Paradoxically, it’s often the sense of unfamiliarity that reignites attraction. 

 

Fantasy as a bridge: Desire as self-connection 

In the Sexocorporel model (a sex therapy framework that integrates body, emotion, and cognition), fantasy is considered part of sexual competence. It’s not just “in your head” – it’s a creative tool.
Something we use to regulate arousal, to sustain desire, to feel more alive. 

From a psychoanalytic view, fantasies often arise from unconscious material – a form of symbolic communication.
 They express: 

  • A need
  • A memory
  • A desire
  • A fear

So thinking of someone else during sex doesn’t necessarily mean you want to leave your partner – it may just mean you’ve found a symbolic shortcut to your own erotic self. 

 

Repeating fantasies are trying to tell you something 

When a fantasy keeps showing up – a certain scene, dynamic, or role – it’s worth exploring. Not to shut it down, but to translate it. 

What does this fantasy create for you? 

  • Power?
  • Safety?
  • Surrender?
  • Excitement?

And: what part of that might be missing from your actual sex life? 

 

Tool: Your Personal Fantasy Inventory 

Here’s a simple and powerful exercise for curious minds: 

📝 1. Write it down
Note a fantasy (or a few) you frequently have – during sex or while masturbating. Be honest and brief. 

🔍 2. Look for patterns
Are there recurring themes? Roles? Emotions? Power dynamics? 

💭 3. Explore the meaning
What does the fantasy create or avoid? What mood or message comes with it? 

🧩 4. Translate, don’t judge
Ask: What might this fantasy be telling me? About my body, my needs, my history, my pleasure? 

 

Bottom line: Fantasy isn’t a threat to intimacy – it’s a doorway into it 

If we stop seeing fantasy as betrayal and start seeing it as a language of desire, a new kind of connection becomes possible. 

One with curiosity. Depth. And often, more pleasure. 

Because when we stop hiding our fantasies, we no longer have to hide ourselves. 

 

PS:
If you’re thinking about sharing a fantasy with your partner – start small. Use humor, use “I” statements, allow space for awkwardness.
You don’t have to say everything. But whatever you do share can open the door to something deeply intimate.


How Our Experiences Shape Our Sexuality – and Why Change Is Possible

Sexuality isn’t just something that “exists.” It doesn’t fall from the sky, isn’t fully formed at birth, and doesn’t develop in a vacuum. Our sexual identity – how we experience desire, intimacy, shame, pleasure – is a mosaic of experiences, stories, and influences.

And many of those influences come from our past.

The Shaping Starts Early

Maybe you grew up in a family where sex was never talked about. Or where it was seen as something dirty, dangerous, or simply mechanical – not something connected to closeness or joy. Maybe you got the message early on that your body was too much, too loud, not quite okay.

These kinds of messages – whether spoken outright or subtly implied – stick with us. And even if, as an adult, you know that sexuality can be something positive, free, and deeply personal, that doesn’t always mean you feel it.

Because our bodies remember. And unlike our phones, our inner world doesn’t automatically install updates.

Later Experiences Matter Too

Experiences later in life also shape how we relate to sex and intimacy – in ways that can reinforce old beliefs or start to shift them. A relationship where closeness was tied to pressure. A moment when your boundaries were crossed. Or, on the flip side, a person who made you feel safe and accepted for the first time.

All of these moments leave traces – in what we desire, in what we avoid, in how we show up (or don’t) in intimacy.

What If the Old Patterns No Longer Fit?

Maybe you’ve felt this: you want closeness, but something inside you pulls away. Or maybe sex “works” on the surface, but the joy is missing. Maybe you’re not even sure what you want – just that it’s not this.

This is often the moment when support can make a real difference. And that’s where working with a therapist can come in.

Creating New Experiences – With Support

Sex therapy isn’t just about “talking through problems.” It’s about understanding where certain feelings or reactions come from – and creating space for new experiences.

That might mean talking about things you’ve never said out loud. Reconnecting with your body as an ally instead of an enemy. Learning to feel and respect your own boundaries.

Some call it “rewiring” or “reprogramming” – but really, it’s about coming back to yourself. Understanding your story without being trapped by it.

Sexuality Is Learnable – and Changeable

Here’s maybe the most important takeaway: sexuality isn’t a fixed personality trait. It’s flexible. Alive. Capable of growth.

And sometimes, change begins with simply asking new questions. With giving yourself permission to be curious.

If you feel like old patterns are holding you back – pay attention. Get support. It’s worth it.

Because your sexuality belongs to you. And it’s allowed to evolve.

Booking

When Closeness Gets Annoying – and Why That’s Totally Normal

(Or: I love you, but please get off my side of the blanket)

There are days when you can’t wait to see your partner. Finally together again! Finally closeness! And then – ten minutes into sharing the couch, the blanket, and maybe a bag of chips – something starts to itch. Not your skin. Your nerves.

Suddenly, the way they chew sounds like construction noise. You can feel every breath they take like it’s directly inside your ear canal. And you wonder:
 “Do I even like this person anymore?”

Short answer: Yes. You do. You’re just human.


Closeness is lovely – until it’s not

It sounds contradictory, but most of us in relationships want both: closeness and space. Intimacy and independence. Emotional connection and the right to be left the hell alone sometimes.

Many couples panic when this tension shows up.
 “What’s wrong with us?”
“Why do I want distance from someone I love?”
Again: You’re not broken. You’re just in a real relationship.


Differentiation: The art of loving without merging

Sex therapist Ulrich Clement, in his book "Guter Sex trotz Liebe" (Good Sex Despite Love), describes what he calls differentiation – the ability to stay emotionally connected while also being your own person.

That means:

  • I can love you without wanting to share everything with you.
  • I can want space without it meaning rejection.
  • I can feel close to you and annoyed by your breathing patterns.

Differentiation is what allows us to stay in relationship without disappearing into it. It's not emotional distance – it’s emotional maturity.


The power of saying no

Swiss psychoanalyst Peter Schellenbaum wrote an entire book called “The No in Love.” His message? If you can’t say a real “no” in your relationship, your “yes” stops meaning anything.

If closeness becomes a duty, it loses its spark. Love turns into obligation. And that never ends well – for sex, for affection, or for trust.

A healthy “no” isn’t rejection. It’s a relational offering. It says:
 “I take you seriously enough to be honest.”


So how do you say it?

Here are a few ways to say “no” without pulling the relationship fire alarm:

🗣️ “I need some alone time. Not away from you – just closer to myself.”
🛁 “I’m going to recharge for a bit. This isn’t about you being too much – it’s about me needing less.”
🧘 “Let’s talk later. Right now, even your voice feels like static in my brain.”
(Okay, maybe phrase that one more gently.)


Closeness that breathes

Closeness is wonderful when it’s chosen, not demanded. When we can retreat without guilt, and reconnect without drama. When we treat difference not as danger, but as an opportunity for curiosity.

Sometimes love lives right in that space between us – the one where we can breathe, move, and come back to each other with intention.


Quick exercise: The Closeness-Distance Check-in

Take 5 minutes and ask yourself:

  • When do I feel emotionally close, even when I’m physically apart?
  • What are my signals that I need space?
  • How do I usually say no? How do I want to be heard?

Talk about it with your partner – on a walk, over wine, or while folding laundry. Closeness doesn’t always need candles. Sometimes it just needs room.


In short:
If you sometimes feel irritated by the very intimacy you crave – congratulations. You’re not emotionally unavailable. You’re just differentiated. And that’s a pretty sexy thing to be.




Why We Need an Outsider Sometimes 

What therapy can offer that friends and partners can’t 

We live in a culture that celebrates independence and self-work. We read books, listen to podcasts, and do a lot of inner heavy lifting—alone. And often, it works. We journal through our heartbreaks, set boundaries with our parents, meditate our way out of anxiety spirals. We talk with friends, cry with partners, even laugh through the hard stuff. There’s a lot we can do on our own, and much of it is valuable. 

But sometimes, it’s not enough. 

Sometimes, no matter how self-aware or self-compassionate we are, we reach a point where the same thoughts keep looping. The same fights resurface. The same inner critic gets louder—or sneakier. And despite our best efforts, something remains stuck. 

That’s usually when we don’t need more insight—we need a new experience. 

Why Not Just Talk to Friends? 

Friends and partners are essential. They remind us we’re lovable even when we’re a mess. They cheer us on, bring wine, share memes, and listen to our monologues about childhood or Tinder. But they’re also human—and personally involved. Their love comes with hopes, opinions, fears, and sometimes even a need for us to stay exactly the way we are. 

A therapist, on the other hand, is a different kind of relationship. One that’s both intimate and boundaried. Caring, but not entangled. And this makes all the difference. 

Therapy Is a Relationship—Just Not That Kind 

We often think of therapy as a tool for fixing what’s broken. But it’s more than that. At its core, therapy is a relationship designed to help you experience yourself differently—in connection with someone who isn’t trying to date you, parent you, or keep you as their best friend. 

In romantic or friendly dynamics, there's often an unspoken contract: I’ll support you, but also, please don’t change too much, or too fast, or in a way that threatens our closeness. 

A therapist, though, is rooting for your growth even if it disrupts the status quo. They're trained to hold space for contradiction, confusion, anger, shame—all the things we often filter out in our daily relationships. And they do so while staying grounded, curious, and—ideally—non-defensive. 

That creates room for a rare kind of honesty. 

For Couples: The Third Person Who Isn’t Siding with Either of You 

In couple’s therapy, the outsider’s role becomes even more obvious. When you're in a cycle—say, one withdraws while the other pursues—it’s nearly impossible to shift it from within. You’re both caught in your own truth, trying to protect yourselves while reaching for the other. 

Enter a third person who isn’t invested in who’s right, but in what’s really going on. Someone who can hold the emotional logic of both sides and offer a map when you’re too close to the terrain to see it. 

Couple’s therapy isn’t about refereeing fights—it’s about creating a new relational experience that neither of you could build alone. A space where vulnerability isn’t punished, and blame gets replaced with understanding. 

Not Everything Needs Therapy. But Some Things Do. 

Let’s be clear: therapy isn’t a magic fix. It’s work. It’s awkward sometimes. It takes time. But what it offers is something few other spaces do: the chance to meet yourself—and others—in a new way, through the eyes of someone who has no agenda except your clarity and freedom. 

Some things you can do alone.
Some things you should. 

But when you need something different—when you want to feel seen, safely challenged, and deeply supported without the emotional entanglements of everyday life—it might be time to talk to someone outside the circle. 

Not because you're broken.
 But because you're human.


Why Boundaries Are the Unsung Heroes of a Healthy Relationship
And how understanding your triggers might just save your next fight

Let’s talk about boundaries. Not the kind where you build a metaphorical brick wall and refuse to let anyone in. I’m talking about the kind that protect both you and your relationship—like a well-drawn map that says, “This is me. That is you. And here’s how we can dance together without stepping on each other’s toes.”

Boundaries often get a bad rap. People think they’re cold or selfish. But in reality, clear and compassionate boundaries are one of the warmest things you can bring into a relationship. They help you show up honestly, take responsibility for your own emotional backpack, and make space for your partner to do the same.

When Emotions from the Past Hijack the Present

Let’s look at one of the most common—and misunderstood—relationship fights:

Couple A: The Mysterious Dinner Blow-Up
It’s Tuesday night. Jamie comes home late from work without texting. Alex, already tired and hungry, explodes: “You never think about me! You just do whatever you want!”
Jamie is blindsided. “I got stuck in traffic. I didn’t think I had to report my every move.”
Both feel hurt, unheard, and misunderstood.

Now, zoom out a little. This isn’t just about dinner.

Alex, it turns out, grew up with a parent who often forgot to pick them up after school. The feeling of being unimportant runs deep. When Jamie is late without communicating, it doesn’t just feel mildly annoying—it reactivates a very old wound. Jamie, on the other hand, values independence and feels suffocated by what they interpret as control.

Cue: emotional wildfire.

But what if Alex had a clearer sense of that old wound and could say, “I know I overreacted—it’s hard for me when people don’t show up on time because it makes me feel abandoned, even if that’s not what’s happening now”?

And what if Jamie could respond, not defensively, but with curiosity: “I didn’t realize that’s what it brings up for you. I can try to be more mindful about checking in”?

That’s boundaries in action. Not blaming the other for your feelings. Not taking responsibility for your partner’s emotions. But owning your history, communicating clearly, and being open to learning each other’s emotional terrain.

The Vicious Cycle: A Systemic Perspective

In systemic therapy, we often talk about the vicious cycle—a pattern where two people keep triggering each other in ways that reinforce and escalate the problem.

Here’s how it works, using Jamie and Alex again:

  1. Jamie is late and doesn’t text.
  2. Alex feels hurt and lashes out.
  3. Jamie feels attacked and withdraws.
  4. Alex interprets the withdrawal as further abandonment.
  5. Jamie feels more misunderstood and shuts down further.
    ... and repeat.

This cycle isn’t about one person being right and the other being wrong. It’s about a dynamic, a loop that feeds on itself. And here’s the kicker: each person is reacting to the reaction, not just the original behavior.

Boundaries can interrupt the loop.

When each partner starts to notice their part in the cycle, when they take ownership of what’s theirs (and gently hand back what isn’t), the pattern starts to loosen. It becomes possible to relate to each other rather than react to each other.

Another Common Fight: The Case of the Silent Treatment

Couple B: The Weekend With No Words
Riley forgets to tell Sam that their ex will be at a mutual friend’s party. Sam, feeling blindsided and uncomfortable, gets icy and withdrawn. Riley feels punished and gets defensive: “It was no big deal! Why are you making it into something it’s not?”

What’s missing here? Boundaries around emotional needs.

If Sam had a clear boundary—“I want to know in advance if someone who has been emotionally significant to you is going to be in a shared space with me”—then this could’ve been a productive conversation, not a silent standoff.

And if Riley had a boundary around being told when something is bothering Sam—“I need you to tell me directly, not freeze me out”—they could've avoided days of confusion and disconnection.

So, What Do Healthy Boundaries Look Like?

Here are a few simple practices:

  • Pause before reacting. Ask: What is this really about for me?
  • Name your needs and feelings without blame. Use “I” statements. (“I feel anxious when I don’t know what’s going on” vs. “You never keep me in the loop.”)
  • Stay on your side of the street. You’re not responsible for fixing your partner’s emotions. But you are responsible for being respectful of them.
  • Get curious, not furious. When you feel triggered, try asking: “What just happened inside me?” before launching into attack mode.

Final Thoughts

Relationships are a mix of past and present, of two emotional ecosystems trying to coexist. Boundaries are the bridges between those worlds. They don’t shut love out—they give it a container. And when each person knows where they end and the other begins, connection becomes more possible, not less.

So next time you feel yourself spiraling in a familiar fight, ask yourself: Is this about what’s happening now? Or am I reacting to an old story with a new cast?

Either way, a boundary—lovingly drawn and courageously held—might be just what you both need.


Why Gestalt Therapy Matters in the Realm of Sexuality and Trauma

When it comes to healing sexuality after trauma, there’s no one-size-fits-all approach. But if there were a therapy wearing the badge of “deeply human, radically honest, and respectfully powerful,” Gestalt therapy would be it.

At its best, Gestalt therapy isn’t just a technique or a toolbox. It’s a way of meeting another person — not as an expert analyzing a problem, but as two humans in conversation. And in the realm of sexuality and trauma, that kind of eye-level encounter can be life-changing.

What Makes Gestalt Therapy Different?

Gestalt therapy focuses on the here-and-now — not in a “let’s ignore the past” way, but in a “how is your past alive in this moment?” kind of way. It’s experiential. That means instead of dissecting your thoughts like puzzle pieces, we might explore how your body tightens when you talk about desire. Or how your voice changes when you set a boundary. These moments become doorways into deeper awareness — and potential transformation.

But here’s the heart of the matter: Gestalt therapy is profoundly relational. The therapist isn’t sitting on a pedestal. There’s no white coat, no clipboard-as-shield. There’s contact. Dialogue. Curiosity. The therapist shows up as a real person — with presence, emotion, and boundaries. In a world where trauma often involves powerlessness, this kind of relational parity is quietly revolutionary.

Sexuality and Trauma: The Need for Safe Ground

Sexuality is deeply embodied. So is trauma. And because both live in the body, they tend to meet in complicated ways. People often come to therapy with stories of disconnection — from their bodies, their desires, their ability to say “yes” or “no” and mean it.

Trauma can leave someone feeling fragmented, stuck in patterns of shame, fear, or numbness. Traditional talk therapy might help untangle the narrative. But Gestalt therapy goes a step further — inviting the body, emotions, and relational dynamics into the room.

This is particularly vital when it comes to sexuality, because sexual healing is not just cognitive. It’s sensate, it’s emotional, and often, it’s relational. Gestalt’s integrative approach allows all of those aspects to be honored.

Emancipation Through Encounter

One of the most powerful things about Gestalt therapy is how it offers emancipation through encounter. That might sound lofty, but it often shows up in simple, grounded moments:

  • Being asked “what are you aware of right now?” instead of “what’s wrong with you?”
  • Being met with genuine interest instead of analysis.
  • Practicing consent and contact in the therapeutic relationship itself.
  • Naming feelings without needing to fix them.

For someone who’s experienced sexual trauma, these moments can restore dignity and agency. Instead of being pathologized, the person is empowered to become more aware of their experience — and to own their response to it.

That’s what we mean when we say Gestalt therapy is emancipating. It trusts that healing doesn't come from the therapist being in charge. It comes from co-creating an authentic encounter where new choices, new self-awareness, and new integration become possible.

A Final Word

Working with sexuality and trauma isn’t about “fixing” someone. It’s about reclaiming parts of the self that may have gone underground — with compassion, courage, and creativity. Gestalt therapy offers a space where this kind of reclamation can happen.

It’s not always easy. It doesn’t offer fast answers. But it does offer something rare: a respectful relationship where healing doesn’t come to you — it comes through you.

Why Your Body Deserves a Seat in Sex Therapy

Let’s start with a question: When we talk about sex, where does the conversation usually take place? 

For most of us, the answer is "in our heads." We think about sex, analyze it, judge it, worry about it. We might even talk about it in therapy. But here’s the catch: sex isn’t just something we think about. It’s something we do—with our bodies. And yet, when it comes to healing sexual concerns, many of us forget to invite the body into the room. 

This is where body-based therapy comes in. 

Your Body Remembers—Even When You Don’t 

In his landmark book The Body Keeps the Score, psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk shows how trauma isn’t just a psychological phenomenon—it’s a physical one. Our bodies carry the imprint of our past experiences, including pain, fear, and disconnection. And when those experiences involve sex or intimacy, the imprint can shape how we feel and act in the present, often without our awareness. 

You might “logically” know that your partner is safe and loving, but your body still flinches. You may want intimacy but find yourself going numb or shutting down. This isn’t a lack of desire—it’s a nervous system doing its best to protect you. 

So if the body is holding the story, doesn’t it make sense to include the body in the healing? 

Enter: Sexocorporel 

One of the most comprehensive models that bridges sex therapy and body-based work is Sexocorporel, a method developed in Canada and now taught around the world. At its core, Sexocorporel sees sexuality not just as a set of thoughts or behaviors, but as a function—one that is influenced by how we breathe, move, perceive, and experience pleasure. 

This approach helps people understand how their body’s habits—like muscle tension, breathing patterns, or movement during arousal—might be limiting their sexual experience. And more importantly, it offers concrete, learnable ways to shift those patterns. 

We don’t just talk about desire. We explore how you feel desire in your body. We don’t just name that penetration feels uncomfortable—we investigate what physical habits might be contributing to that discomfort, and how to gradually create new sensations. 

The Head-and-Body Partnership 

None of this is about ditching talk therapy. Our thoughts, beliefs, and emotional histories matter. But integrating body therapy means we stop asking the mind to do all the work alone. We create a loop—between thought and sensation, between story and experience—so that healing can happen on multiple levels. 

Because let’s be honest: you can’t think your way into a more connected sex life. But you can learn it—through your body. 

Try This: Mini Body-Based Practices 

Here are a few simple ways to start reconnecting with your body in the context of sexuality. These are not sexual exercises per se—they’re about building awareness, regulation, and capacity for pleasure and connection. 

  1. Pleasure Mapping (Non-Sexual)
    Take 5–10 minutes to explore touch on different parts of your body—hands, arms, face, scalp, legs. Use a feather, a warm cloth, your fingertips. Notice what feels neutral, pleasant, or even irritating. The goal isn’t arousal—it’s information.
  2. Breath and Pelvis Check-In
    Lie on your back with your knees bent. As you breathe in, notice if your pelvic area moves or stays still. Try softening the belly and allowing subtle pelvic movement with the breath. This can increase awareness and relaxation in an area that often holds tension.
  3. Sensate Focus Lite
    Borrowed from classic sex therapy techniques, this version is solo. Use your hands to explore your body with curiosity. The rule: no goal, no performance. Just notice sensation—temperature, texture, pressure.
  4. Sound + Movement Practice
    Put on music you love and let your body move in response. Try to make sound as you move—a sigh, a hum, a whoop. This may feel silly at first, but it helps break the freeze response and connects movement with emotional release.
  5. Body Scan Before Intimacy
    Before sex (solo or partnered), pause and check in: Where am I tense? Where do I feel open? What kind of touch would feel nourishing right now? Just this awareness can shift the experience from autopilot to attunement.

 

Body therapy won’t “fix” everything overnight—but it opens up a new dimension of healing and possibility, especially when it comes to intimacy. By bringing the body into the conversation, we stop pathologizing our struggles and start working with the actual terrain. 

Your body isn’t the problem. It’s part of the solution. 

 


“It’s Not You, It’s Time”: What Commitment Really Takes

Let’s talk about commitment. Not the “Facebook official” kind or the “we adopted a dog together after dating for three months” kind. I mean real, deep-down, soul-growing commitment—the kind that sticks around even when someone’s sick, grumpy, or has opinions about dishwasher organization that make zero sense.

Here’s the truth no one tells you on your third Tinder date: commitment is less about feelings and more about time.

Trust Isn’t a Lightning Bolt. It’s a Slow-Cooked Stew.

We love the idea of falling in love like it’s skydiving—one dramatic jump, one decision, one magical moment. But trust? That’s not a jump. It’s a marathon. In flip-flops. Uphill. Both ways.

We don’t choose trust. We earn it. And that means giving each other the gift of time—time to mess up, time to make up, time to be human in front of each other without fearing that the other person will disappear at the first awkward silence or bad mood.

If someone tells you, “I’ve decided to trust you,” that’s nice. But it doesn’t mean much unless it’s followed by, “...so I’ll be here for the long haul, even when your worst side shows up at 6 a.m. before coffee.”

The Myth of Instant Intimacy

Pop culture sells us fast-forward love. Reality shows with overnight engagements. Rom-coms where the couple gets married before learning how the other loads a toilet paper roll. (Which matters, okay?)

But real intimacy doesn’t happen like that. It’s not about how many deep conversations you’ve had in one night. It’s about how you’ve navigated ten boring Tuesday nights, a stomach flu, and your partner forgetting your birthday and living to tell the tale.

As R.D. Laing writes in The Intimate Enemy, the people closest to us are also the ones who can most easily hurt us. That’s part of the deal. Commitment means learning how to sit with that vulnerability—not to armor up or run, but to stay. To get curious. To grow.

Practical Tools (That Don’t Involve Matching Outfits)

If you’re wondering, “Cool, but what does this look like in real life?”—here are a few tools that help build real, time-based trust:

  • Create a “hard things” calendar. Once a week, check in with your partner about something uncomfortable—money, jealousy, boundaries, in-laws, you name it. It’s a muscle; use it.
  • Tell the small truths. Big trust is built on small truths. “Actually, I didn’t love that movie” is low-stakes honesty that sets the stage for “I’m feeling disconnected lately” later on.
  • Track time, not milestones. Instead of rushing toward labels or shared bank accounts, pay attention to how you feel with this person over time. Are you safer? More honest? Can you be silent together without panic?

Resources for the Curious & Committed

If this post hit home, here are a few places to dig deeper:

  • The Intimate Enemy by R.D. Laing – A classic on how closeness and conflict live side-by-side.
  • Attached by Amir Levine – On attachment styles and what they mean for your relationships.
  • Hold Me Tight by Dr. Sue Johnson – For those wanting to deepen emotional connection.
  • Journaling prompts: “When do I feel safest in love?” / “What scares me about staying?”


Commitment isn’t sexy in the beginning. It’s not fireworks or perfect photos. It’s showing up, over and over, long after the butterflies have flown off to terrorize someone else. It’s time, multiplied by presence, divided by drama.

And in a world of swipe-right-speed, that kind of love is the real rebel move.