Hello Pleasure Activists,

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Let us settle into something tender together and explore how stress moves through the body and reshapes our relationship with pleasure.

 

Stress is not an abstract psychological idea that exists somewhere outside of us. It has shape, texture, and weight. It moves through our bodies with a rhythm that alters the breath, tightens muscles, and reorganizes what we have access to emotionally and erotically. When the body is overwhelmed, and when it is holding more than its nervous system can comfortably manage, eroticism often becomes one of the first capacities to retreat. This shift does not occur because we are broken or failing. It occurs because the body is profoundly loyal to survival.

 

During my Doctoral Clinical Psychology program, I was juggling my rigorous training, the birth of Modern Anarchy, and the early seeds of The Pleasure Practice. I often felt exhausted and overextended, and I tried to meet every demand with effort and determination. My erotic energy felt distant and unreachable during that season. It existed somewhere inside me, but my body could not access it because I was living in a state of continuous activation.

 

I remember sitting in a pelvic floor therapist’s office and feeling confused by the pain I had begun to experience during sexual penetration. Pelvic floor therapy is a specialized form of physical therapy that includes intravaginal assessments, targeted internal massage, muscular retraining, and grounding techniques to address pain, tension, and dysfunction in the pelvic region. Therapists in this field work with individuals who have experienced childbirth, sexual trauma, chronic bacterial or yeast infections, or ongoing pain during sex, and it is a modality that I often recommend to clients navigating these issues.

 

I had spent years studying sexuality, liberation, embodiment, and trauma. I understood the theory. I had unlearned so much shame. I believed in pleasure, and I believed in my right to experience it. Yet my body was telling a different story. The therapist explained that the pain I was feeling with penetration was directly linked to chronic overwork and the significant muscular tension I had been holding in my pelvic floor. She described how my vaginal muscles had tightened as a physiological response to stress and how the clenching was not a flaw but a form of protection that my body had been practicing for months.

 

The cultural mythology around vaginal tightness is profoundly misguided because it glorifies a state that often reflects distress rather than health. This is exactly what I was experiencing during the height of my stress in my Clinical Psychology Doctoral program. My vagina was bracing, protecting, and responding to the nonstop stimulation of a life lived in survival mode.

 

The pelvic floor therapist encouraged me to begin grounding exercises, breathwork, and somatic relaxation practices to unwind the tension my body had stored, and that moment marked the beginning of a profound shift in how I understood my own erotic physiology and my work as a clinical sex and relationship therapist. I realized that I could intellectually understand desire, communication, and sexual health, yet still struggle if my nervous system did not feel safe enough to soften. My mind had done the work, but my body had not yet followed.

 

This experience offered a deep initiation into the somatic dimension of eroticism. It taught me that erotic shutdown is not evidence of failure but evidence of the body’s profound wisdom. Stress constricts us not because we are doing something wrong but because we are carrying more than our internal systems can hold. Many people with penises experience a similar pattern, although it manifests differently. Erection difficulties, mid-sex arousal drops, and challenges reaching orgasm often emerge as physiological responses to overwhelm. These experiences do not reflect inadequacy. They reflect the body shifting into self-protection.

 

Despite this, many people blame themselves when pleasure becomes harder to access. They internalize the belief that their bodies are betraying them. They imagine that they are failing or that their desires are disappearing. This self-criticism intensifies stress, and stress further restricts erotic energy. A painful spiral emerges.

 

However, when people begin to understand that their erotic symptoms are messages rather than malfunctions, something powerful begins to shift. I watch this transformation unfold every cycle in the Pleasure Liberation: Sexuality Group. People enter carrying years of shame, confusion, numbness, and fear. They believe their erotic difficulties reflect something broken inside of them. Yet, when they learn to hear their bodies as communicators rather than adversaries, the entire landscape of possibility opens.

 

One participant shared that they had spent years believing that their dwindling desire meant something was fundamentally wrong with them. When they learned to interpret their body’s quieting not as loss but as wisdom, they experienced profound relief. They said, “For the first time in my life, I feel like my body is trying to help me, not hinder me.”

 

Another participant described how painful sex remained unchanged until they approached their body with compassion rather than demand. When they shifted from “Why is this happening to me?” to “What is my body needing right now?” pleasure slowly began to return.

 

A third participant explained that their mid-sex arousal drops felt mysterious until they learned about stress physiology. Once they recognized that their nervous system was overwhelmed, they began incorporating grounding, breath, and slowness into their erotic experiences. They said, “It felt like my body finally trusted me enough to stay in the moment.”

 

These transformations do not occur overnight. Liberation rarely unfolds in a single moment. Instead, it emerges through slow, intentional shifts in how we relate to ourselves. Each breath, each moment of curiosity, and each act of compassion becomes a radical step toward pleasure.

 

Another truth that I emphasize in the Pleasure Liberation Sexuality Group is that there is no universal standard for the “right” amount of sex. Many people ask whether they are having enough, and this question often emerges from culturally imposed expectations rather than organic desire. The only meaningful question is whether the sex you are having feels pleasurable and aligned with your needs. Some people desire daily erotic connection, and some desire weekly. Some move through seasons in which sexuality ebbs and flows with their emotional landscape. All of these rhythms are legitimate because they emerge from your truth rather than an external metric.

 

It is also essential to understand that desire does not always appear spontaneously. Sexual science shows that desire frequently arises after pleasure begins rather than before. You do not need to wait for a sudden wave of wanting. You can create conditions that invite pleasure, and desire often emerges naturally once the body feels safe and engaged. This approach is not about forcing anything. It is about allowing pleasure to unfold at the pace that your body chooses.

 

Pleasure is not a performance. Pleasure is a practice. It is something we cultivate with intention, gentleness, and curiosity. This truth becomes especially powerful in a culture that teaches us to override our bodies, minimize our needs, and measure ourselves through output. When we reject those narratives and return to our embodied wisdom, we reclaim our right to feel alive.

 

This reclamation does not happen in isolation. The community spaces we create together hold a transformative power that accelerates growth. Every cycle of Pleasure Liberation: Sexuality Group  reminds me that healing expands exponentially when people witness each other. Collective liberation emerges when vulnerability meets compassion, and each person’s breakthrough becomes a mirror for someone else’s possibility.

 

The personal is political, and the erotic is a revolution.

 

Your Pleasure Practice:

 

Journal Invitation:
Reflect on the ways stress currently lives inside your body. Describe the sensations with detail and precision. Does your chest tighten when you anticipate conflict? Does your pelvic floor lift or contract when you feel overwhelmed? Does your breath shorten when you try to access pleasure? Write complete sentences that honor the intelligence of your body. Then ask yourself: What is this tension protecting me from? What truth is my body attempting to express?

 

Embodiment Practice:
Place one hand over your pelvis and breathe slowly into the warmth of your own touch. Imagine your pelvic floor softening with each exhale. If it feels accessible, explore your body with your fingertips and notice whether your muscles respond with openness or resistance. You are not trying to fix anything. You are making contact with the truth of your body, exactly as it is. Observe whether arousal feels distant, tentative, or unavailable, and meet that truth with curiosity rather than judgment.

 

Relational Reflection:
Set aside intentional time with a partner or lover and explore the question: “What cues help your body feel safe enough to open to pleasure?” Share openly and listen fully. Ask one another where stress shows up during intimacy and what kind of touch, breath, pacing, or tone invites the nervous system to soften. Build your erotic connection through attunement rather than expectation.

 

One participant in the Pleasure Liberation: Sexuality Group had shared that when she stopped fighting her body and began listening to the tension she felt during sex, something profound shifted. She described that moment as the beginning of her erotic reawakening. Her capacity for pleasure expanded not because she pushed harder, but because she finally offered her body the safety it had been seeking.

 

These practices exist to support you in meeting your body with compassion and curiosity. They are invitations to return to yourself, especially when stress has narrowed your capacity for pleasure. If you have been feeling disconnected from your erotic energy, please remember that your erotic self remains alive within you. It is waiting for safety, softness, and care.

 

I hope this letter brings spaciousness into your system and reminds you that pleasure is still possible in every season of life.

 

Sending All My Love,
Dr. Nicole

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Dr. Nicole Thompson

Sex and Relationship Psychotherapist

Psychedelic-Assisted Liberation

Clinical Psychology