For the longest time, I believed pleasure was something I could logic my way into.
If I could just find the right thought, the right mindset, the right mantra, then of course my body would get the memo.
I told myself that if I relaxed a little harder, if I surrendered with just a liiiiitle more effort (the irony), if I stopped being so difficult, then maybe I’d finally feel what everyone else seemed to be feeling.
My mind was busy cracking the whip while my body sat in the corner, tense, numb and completely offline.
I’d be getting down and dirty with a partner and the same old script would run through my head: Why can’t you just enjoy this? Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you stop overthinking and freaken let go already.
But even as I whispered those instructions to myself, all my attention was glued to my partner, in some weird hypervigilant way:
Were they having a good time?
Was I doing it right?
Could they tell that I was faking it? Performing? Moaning at the “right” moments? Gasping at the “right” times? Did they know that I was desperately trying to appear like I was “into it”?
Because here’s the god honest reality, my body was in hell.
My muscles were clenched, my stomach pulled in tight, my breath shallow, my chest constricted.
My body wasn’t open; it was armoured. And the pleasure I longed for felt like it belonged to some other species, not me.
And so I lived in this cycle for over a decade.
Some nights I blamed myself; convinced I was broken, that I was one of those women who simply “couldn’t orgasm.” (ps. if you resonate, please know that this is scientifically not true! The latest research suggests that every woman’s physiologically capable of orgasm!).
Other nights I blamed my partner; for not touching me the right way, for not giving me enough foreplay (yes, lets retire that term!), for being what I though of as selfish.
But the bigger truth was that both of us were just as confused and just as uneducated as the other.
We were fumbling in the dark, acting out what we thought sex and pleasure were supposed to “look” like, without understanding our bodies at all.
And the more I tried to think my way into it… the more I analysed, instructed, and berated myself… the further away pleasure slipped.
Why? Because, after years of training, studying and connecting to my body in a whole new way, I’ve come to learn the following as true…
You can not bully your nervous system into turn-on.
You can’t think your way into pleasure.
And you can’t orgasm your way out of a freeze response any more than you can green-juice your way out of adrenal fatigue.
Why Your Body Won’t Play Along
Here’s the thing: pleasure is not a mental equation you solve.
It’s a physiological state.
When your nervous system is stuck in survival mode (fight, flight, or freeze) your body literally shuts down arousal. It diverts energy away from pleasure and connection because, on a very primal level, it thinks: it’s not safe enough to feel right now.
If your body doesn’t feel safe, it won’t open. It doesn’t matter how many affirmations you repeat in the mirror or how many times you tell yourself to “relax.”
Your body isn’t going to open into pleasure, not because she’s being difficult, but because she’s in protection mode.
This is why so many of us end up going through the motions in the bedroom.
Not because we’re bad people, but because we’ve often been taught to override our natural impulses, to prioritise someone else’s experience, and our bodies don’t yet know that true relaxation, true pleasure and deep orgasm are safe enough to experience.
Learning the Language of the Body
My turning point came when I realised that pleasure isn’t about trying harder…
…it’s about listening differently.
I began to learn the language of my body. Not through sex at first, but through small, simple gestures that had nothing to do with being “sexy.”
I began to let myself feel what it was like to stroke my arms. To massage my scalp. The warmth of my hands resting on my belly. And to really notcie the rise and fall of my breath.
For the first time, I allowed myself to touch my body not as an object to be fixed or a tool to perform with, but as a living, breathing being worthy of comfort and curiosity.
I started to notice sensations; tingles, warmth, contractions, niggles, twitches, little flickers of aliveness. And instead of overriding them, I tracked them. I mapped my body like uncharted territory, slowly learning what each response meant.
When I stopped treating my body like a problem to solve and started treating her like someone to befriend, everything changed.
Learning how to offer my body the feeling of safety became my north star.
From safety came curiosity, and from curiosity came play, and from play came pleasure. Not in the forced, pressured way I had always chased, but in a way that unfolded naturally, almost shyly at first, until it grew into something deeper, richer, more expansive than I ever thought possible.
This shift wasn’t only about solo exploration, either.
It was also about how I related to myself in the mirror. Actually looking at my body without diving headfirst into criticism or shame.
Slowly, I began to appreciate her, to thank her, to see her as a home instead of an enemy I had to annihilate.
And slow, oh so slowly, from there, something magical happened….
I allowed others to see me too.
To really see me.
The mess human bits and all.
That was a crucial shift, not just in my sex life but in how I showed up for intimacy, connection, and the kind of pleasure that only grows in the presence of trust.
Why We Can’t Do This Alone
Here’s another truth… you can’t do this work in isolation forever.
That was my second greatest learning!
Yes, solo practices are essential, but we’re relational beings.
Our nervous systems are wired for co-regulation, which is a fancy somatic wasy of saying we heal, thrive, and open most fully when we’re with others who feel safe to our nervous systems.
Think about it: babies don’t regulate themselves, they regulate through the nervous system of their caregivers.
And that wiring doesn’t disappear as adults.
We need spaces where our bodies feel seen, held, welcomed.
We need community, witnesses, guides, and safe containers that give us permission to be exactly as we are.
Because it’s in that kind of space, one where the nervous system knows I am safe to be me, that true pleasure starts to reawaken.
An Invitation to Begin
So let’s make this real. Right now, place one hand on your heart and one on your belly. Close your eyes and take a breath.
Ask yourself: What’s happening in my body right now? Where feels tight? Where feels open? Where feels numb?
Don’t rush to change it. Just notice.
This is how befriending your body begins: not with force, not with pressure, but with attention, curiosity, and compassion.
You might even want to journal on it afterwards:
What did I notice?
Which parts of my body do I tend to ignore or override?
What might it be like to offer those parts more compassionate care and attention?
This is the work.
Not “thinking” your way into pleasure, but building safety, presence, and curiosity, one breath, one sensation, one gentle moment at a time.
Join us LIVE!
If this resonates with you, if you’re tired of feeling stuck in your head, disconnected from your body, or frustrated by trying to force something that “should feel natural”, I’d love to invite you into a space designed exactly for you!
On Wednesday 27th August at 7pm BST, I’m hosting a FREE online workshop:
Re:Awakening your Pleasure
It’s an evening of somatic practices, nervous system wisdom, and community connection to help you step out of analysis mode and back into the living, breathing reality of your body.
And if you can’t join us live? no worries. Everyone who signs up will get a free, limited time reply!
Because pleasure isn’t something you can think your way into.
It’s something you feel, when your body finally knows: I am safe here.
With love,
Alexa
Xx