by Natasha | Aug 23, 2024 | Erectile Dysfunction, Sexual liberation, Vulnerability |
This blog was written and shared with me by one of my clients in an effort to help other men with one of the most common issues that men come to me for. His words are honest, vulnerable and deeply self reflective.
“The work I have been engaged in as a result of our sessions and your guidance through the challenges I have been facing is deeper than I may have previously thought. I think it may in fact be life changing. My perspectives, feelings, and desires–each of these have been shifting and my mental, spiritual, physical, and emotional experiences have been responding to said shifts.”
From Boy to Man: Masculinity, Sex, and the Self
This blog is an autobiographical account of reflections on lived experiences and the subsequent analysis that showcases that for me the roots of male sexual disfunction go deeper than the physical and reach back further than the recent past or present. In what follows I will share and analyze experiences of my own life, connecting the roots of these past experiences to more recent experiences of erectile dysfunction (ED) and other foundational views about desire and arousal that were ill-informed and in need of address. I will conclude this by sharing my journey on addressing my erectile dysfunction and offer reflections that have come from being engaged in this deep, transformative, and even life-changing work.
The Boy
As a boy the seeds of arousal, libido, and sexual desire that were sewn in me were intimately connected with anxiety, competition, and a deep laden sense of inadequacy that barely permeated the surface: I didn’t find the problem so much as the problem found me. Early on earning female attention was represented to me as a game that I needed to win or an experience I needed to manipulate. I did not feel I was inherently worthy of love. The prize, ultimately, was gaining access to the ever-illusive experience of sex and the scarce message that I indeed was o.k., had value, and was worthwhile. These seeds were sewn in me by masculinity as taught through movies, television, competitive sports, older men, and pornography, all of which were initially presented to me in a formative way in grade four or five. The message was both clear and confusing but later unpacked to be: The sexual desire you are to control should also be insatiable, and your worth as a man is directly reflected in the opposite sex’s evaluation of you, of which there is no higher measure of success than sexual intercourse. Rife with power dynamics, heteronormativity, and misogyny, it’s a mystery that any of us would expect this messaging to yield anything healthy.
Masturbation
As the seeds of my sexual psychology began to grow, life also continued to move along. I found the satisfaction of masturbation during the same time that my home life became unstable and unpredictable. Turmoil, combined with the socially enforced idea that I, as a boy becoming a man, was supposed to cultivate an insatiable, almost uncontrollable sexual desire led me to form a deep bond with pornography. Pornography and masturbation became where I learned about sex between men and women, and a space where I could go to access pleasure that would help me cope with the dysfunction surrounding me. What pornography did not show me was what it meant to connect with a partner in a non-sexual way, or how to move through the courtship period of building a relationship, how to explore sexual pleasure and sexual connection with myself in a healthy way, or how to deal with and ease the pain of the non-sexual issues from my life in a manner that was not masturbation.
Wounds
Throughout my preadolescents and my adolescence, one of the most profound wounds I experienced was a lack of focused attention. I was routinely neglected and left to my own devices and in pornography and masturbation I found a way to access and provide for myself the focused attention that was lacking from my life that I so deeply craved. In addition to neglect, I received harmful messages about sex and women. The messaging that all too many men receive about sex is often toxic and can be very confusing. Boy’s and men’s messages about sex say that they do not deserve sex but that they need sex, that their sexual desire is shameful but is connected to their masculinity, that they have to fight and compete for sex, that sex is acquired or won, that sex is a measure of their worth as a person, and that they need to need sex to demonstrate their virility but also control their urges to demonstrate their power. Unfortunately, this list is not exhaustive. The amount of problematic messaging that boys and men receive about sex seems limitless. Finally, the messaging that young boys and men receive about sex also tends to dehumanize their sexual partners, reducing them to objects of desire and robbing all parties involved of true sexual pleasure.
The Man
Having now grown from a boy into a man, equipped with a daily pornography habit, my body began to betray me, making me unable to maintain or sometimes even achieve an erection. Scared, I was forced to address my body’s betrayal. The prescription, equally terrifying at the time, was to stop using pornography and to abstain from masturbation. This was terrifying as both pornography and masturbation were what I had previously used to ease the pain caused by wounding I had received throughout my life. Working through these fears and moving into healthier alignment with myself and my sexuality soon proved to be the most fun, interesting, and life and perspective changing work I had even endeavored upon. As such, I would like to share some of my reflections and learnings from that time, though it should be noted that the learnings are still coming—no pun intended.
Reflections
Reflection One: In stopping pornography we can come into closer, healthier, and deeper contact with ourselves, our partners, and our genuine, pure states of arousal.
Reflection Two: It has only been in my 30’s, without the use of pornography and daily masturbation, that I have begun to experience pure sexual pleasure, free from outside stimuli, motivating factors, or the drive of early childhood traumas.
Reflection Three: Masturbation and by extension my erectile dysfunction grew from dysfunction and wounding that harmed me far before I had the cognitive ability to deal with them in a healthier way.
Reflection Four: When abstaining from pornography and masturbation a critical component to my success was identifying triggers. Social media, television, advertising, everywhere we look, we are inundated with sexual imagery and inaccurate depictions of what it means to be a man that can trigger our arousal and push us to use pornography.
Reflection Five: If you are struggling with erectile dysfunction and trying to abstain from pornography or move forward in a new way sexually, give your body and yourself time to adjust before looking for results. This work is deep work and can be truly life changing. It’s worth taking time and being patient with yourself. Sit with yourself in a state of loving care and attention.
by Natasha | Oct 3, 2023 | Body Image, Bodysex testimonial, Bodysex workshops, Posts, Related Bodysex, Self loving/masturbation, Sexual liberation, Workshops |
It’s the eve of my last Bodysex workshop and, even though I’m choosing to take a break from facilitating, it’s scary to not know if I’ll ever return to it. It feels like I’m saying goodbye to a lover that I’m still deeply in love with, but the relationship isn’t nourishing me in the ways it used to. I’m already feeling the grief of all that I’ll miss; the feeling of home in the circle, the honor of sitting beside women as they open, share and connect to their vulvas. Seeing and being seen fully, the orchestra of our self pleasure, the smell of sweat and pussy, Marika’s hand resting on my leg as we hold space, my head on Justine’s lap as we discuss how the weekend went, Patti’s bare bum sticking out from her apron as she cooks — and the absolute normalcy of all of it.
Two days later the workshop is finished and, filled with gratitude and love, I pack up my supplies for the last time. I can feel myself wanting to cling and hold on — just a bit — to one last touch of my lovers hand as I say goodbye. I don’t want to let go of the connections, the memories, the endless internal spiral of self confrontation, awareness and integration. One of the gifts of Bodysex is that the eyes of the other women are a mirror for me, always showing me what’s hard to see on my own. In that mirror I see in my grasp to hold on — the reason I’m letting go.
I’m not that same woman I was 8 years ago who sat shaking outside Betty Dodson’s apartment before my first Bodysex workshop — terrified that all the women in the circle would be shocked and disgusted by my naked body. I’m not the same woman who was so ashamed of her scarred and stretched stomach, that she spent years repeating the mantra over and over in her head before allowing a man to see her naked: “This is my body and I accept it. If he doesn’t accept it, he don’t accept me and he’s not my person.” And I’m certainly not the same woman who only had sex to please, keep the peace or in an attempt to feel loved.
Looking in the women’s eyes this weekend, I saw myself as a woman who feels most beautiful when I’m naked and surrounded by other women, in nature or locking eyes in intimacy with my husband (ideally all of the above! He he). I saw in myself that I accept and love my body — and recognize it as an illustration of my history, a creator and giver of life and source of infinite pleasure. I saw myself as a woman who now owns pleasure because it’s my inherent right as a human being and no longer finds it revolutionary to orgasm. I live and embody this right.
Driving away from Drummondville, I feel my fingers slip away from my beautiful lover Bodysex. I’ve been gently easing into this moment for months, with the same care and tenderness I took in preparing for my children to leave the nest. It doesn’t make it any easier, but I can feel excitement deep inside me at the possibilities of other paths I can explore. I wonder what will be different about the woman I am in another 8 years? What will she have learned that I haven’t yet? What parts of herself will she confront that are still hiding behind armor? What will she find that nourishes her the most?
As the plane takes off, I close my eyes and imagine myself back in the circle with the 321 women who’ve shared it with me. I smell the coconut oil, feel the warmth of their hands in mine and — all around me, I’m met with an abundance of love, acceptance and encouragement. With my eyes, my body and my heart, I offer the same back to them. I hear Betty’s words whisper, “Natasha, the circle of sisters will always carry you, as long as you share your honest “I’s.” Goodbye for now my lover, Bodysex. This is my honest I.
Much love, appreciation and gratitude for Betty, Carlin, Patti, Justine, Marika and all of my Bodysex sisters.I love you.
by Natasha | Jan 24, 2022 | For couples, Posts, Sex and mothering, Sexual liberation |
When I was first exploring my sexuality, I didn’t resonate with using the terms masculine and feminine to describe myself — especially not when they applied to sex. I resonated with the idea of these energies co-existing, but not how having both of them could help me have a balanced sex life. Now, ten years later on this journey, I resonate much more with these terms and understand why that balance can be so helpful in sex and intimacy. At times in my explorations, I’ve swayed heavy to one side or the other, and thankfully this pendulum swing has been helpful in opening up a longing in me for the side that was missing.
I’ve always identified strongly with certain aspects of traditional femininity. I became a mother to a big family at a young age and the role of nurturing my children and husband felt at that time, like my highest purpose in life. Motherhood allowed me to tap into the soft, nurturing parts of myself that longed for connection and intimacy — through tending to the needs of others. Caring for my family became my attempt at meeting those needs in myself and yet, I often felt like something was missing. Without embodying my masculine side, I found it difficult to ask for what I wanted and needed or make decisions for myself that conflicted with my ability to care for others. My femininity lacked self-care that may have helped me feel nurtured or beautiful or comfortable in my body, and was solely focused on the needs of others. I stuffed my own needs down as deep as I could to protect this. As my children got older and built their own relationships and interests, parenting no longer met my need for intimacy, and the deep longings I felt bubbled to the surface. Slowly, I pulled them out one by one and learned that I liked to feel my body move through dance and to wear dresses and to feel pretty — for myself — and that femininity wasn’t only about caring for the needs of others.
Around this same time I discovered my pleasure in a more embodied way and the nurturing part of me that used to have sex for my husbands pleasure, started wanting pleasure for myself. It took awhile to learn how to do this, but eventually I no longer cared if he connected with me before we had sex as I’d long since been asking for. I learned that I could have sex solely for pleasure — as he had seemingly done for years and years — and that sometimes that was exactly what I needed. I learned to own my right to orgasm by making sure that, with the help of my hands, I always orgasmed in sex. I initiated sex, turned on the lights and took the pillow off of my face that I’d used for years to hide in shame. I didn’t have to feel shame to live in pleasure. It was my BIRTHRIGHT. I was doing what men have done for centuries and took ownership of my own pleasure. I’d believed my husband’s pleasure to be a given and that it was necessary for me to provide that for him during the 17 years we were together. Until I found my masculine, I couldn’t imagine believing my pleasure could be a given or necessary too.
High on this masculine energy I rode my right to pleasure as hard a cock. (see, just writing about my masculine gets me in that mode!) When my marriage ended, I continued seeking my right to pleasure in a masculine way — rarely asking for the nurturing or connection I also needed, or even discerning adequately who I was experiencing pleasure with. There are moments I remember in sexual situations where I felt almost out of body, wondering why I divorced my husband just to be back in the same situation of disconnected sex I’d wanted out of. I could orgasm just fine, but the longing for connection and intimacy and being seen, was still there.
Listening to my feminine, I started practicing discernment and realized that deep intimacy and pleasure (beyond just a basic “get me off” orgasm) happened when I felt relaxed and safe. Just “taking” my orgasm wasn’t enough anymore and I still longed for the more I craved in my marriage. I wanted pleasure yes, but also connection, softness, surrender. To have this, I had to learn to trust and to receive — both very feminine qualities. I realized it was much easier to long for these things than to actually make myself open to them, but I committed to practice. Using breath, presence and masculine confidence, I learned to soften my body like a jelly fish or sea sponge — able to absorb and feel the subtlest nuances of pleasure. Slowly I opened my legs, arms, hands and heart to myself, my partner and the universe. Allowing the feminine in me to receive and soften meant I could allow my partner to pleasure me for as long as I needed. When I felt insecure, the masculine in me was helpful as the strong voice in my ear reminding me, as it’s reminded men for centuries, that “this is my right!” Finally, the two parts were working together.
Looking back I feel that as a traditional, non sexually embodied woman — so far swung on the pendulum in that way — it was necessary for me to swing as far as I could the other way and find my masculine. I needed to own my right to pleasure and exercise it as my own, so that I could come back and own my right to embody my full femininity too. In order to surrender to pleasure, love and allow myself to be fully seen, I needed to know I deserve that. It’s my right as a human being. Regardless of gender or sexual orientation, I believe these two energies exist in all of us, as does the potential to actualize them. To know if your pendulum is swung too far in one way, you can simply ask yourself “what else am I longing for in my sexual and intimate life?” Your answer, is an invitation to explore what’s missing.
by Natasha | Aug 22, 2021 | Body Image, Bodysex workshops, Sexual liberation |
I spent a night with my friend and Bodysex® sister on the beach this summer. As soon as we found a quiet spot — we got naked, made a fire, cooked dinner, practiced peeing right where we’re sitting, shared stories and talked about how vulnerable it can feel to follow our hearts and really own it. This blog is inspired by her and my Bodysex® experiences:
Bodysex® reminds me of the sacredness of my own pleasure. That it’s my right as a human being to feel pleasure. Bodysex® reminds me that in the absence of a partner, or if I’m with a partner who’s unwilling to fully support my pleasure — I know my own body and can pleasure myself. That with this tool I never have to live a pleasureless life again — never have to have pleasureless sex again. That it’s okay to want a partner to be as good as I am (with myself) in bed.
Bodysex® reminds me of the familiar softness of a woman’s body and why it’s beautiful to look at and to touch. It reminds me that we all look better without clothes on, that the jiggles are super hot and fun to play with, and why our lovers are lucky to touch and make love to us. We feel so good. We, as everyday women, are goddesses.
Bodysex® reminds me of why women were persecuted for being “whores” and “witches.” That in our embodied pleasure we are magical, mystical beings that would obviously cause fear in insecure men. When we realize our magic, we can no longer be oppressed and, for those brave enough to love us, we share our magic with them.
Bodysex® reminds me why I need in person connections to feel seen. I’m a multidimensional woman and I want to be seen as that. I’m sexual, yet not just that. I’m motherly, yet not just that. Sometimes I do great things, but I’m not only that. Sometimes I do shitty things, but I’m not only that. I’m like a quilt with many different squares and colours and sections torn and frayed while others are intact. I want to be seen as all of that.
Bodysex® reminds me through stories, body language, eyes and sounds of our pleasure that we are all of these things. Sexual, soft, magical, multidimensional, goddess, witches. What is better than that?
by Natasha | Jan 1, 2021 | Awakening, connection, Sexual liberation, Vulnerability |
I woke up this morning in my quiet house with my children still sleeping. Drinking tea with the sun shining through the window onto my bare legs, this story — which had just been seen and felt in parts throughout the last year — flowed completely through me. I wish I could read it to you, so you could close your eyes (as I like to imagine you would) and with each word feel the river touching your legs and teasing you forward in it’s flow. But this will have to do.
I see myself floating down a river, the wind softly blowing my hair, sun on my neck, holding hands with someone I love. The flowing water is as clear as a mountain spring and under it are rocks which sometimes jut out, causing us to maneuver our bodies around them so we don’t get hurt as we float. The banks are high enough on the sides and I smile when I see animals have made houses in the dirt along the edge. There are branches sticking out from the banks — some worn smooth by the water that flows over them at times, and some so sharp that we need to duck at just the right times to not get hurt by them. There are some shallow sections in the river where we often stop to play, laying half in and half out of the water, feeling the slight lull of it flowing over our legs as the sun warms the rest of our bodies. Sometimes we choose to spend days in these parts of the river exploring and being with the flow but not moving very far at all. In these places — between fully floating and totally stuck — we often find the best treasures, difficult to explain to anyone after, but nevertheless treasures that deeply impact the way we float on.
Inevitably as we choose to continue on, the river changes again and we float together, until both of us get caught in a pile of branches that’s pooled along one side of the river. On my side the branches are less thick (this time) and I carry on with only minimal effort to free myself. The force of us getting caught though is enough to tear our hands apart and, while I notice the disconnect right away, it takes me a minute to stop because I’m still flowing along with the river. Stopping myself is difficult and it requires a great deal of energy to push backwards against the flowing river. I do it though, because I chose to float the river with this person and I’m not going to leave them behind just because they’re “stuck” in the branches. I want to keep floating with them. So I paddle against the current, breathing heavily as I slowly move back wards towards where they’re “stuck” in the branches. Once I get there I grab onto the pile and use it to pull me around closer to them and then, still unable to reach them in their pile, I choose to tread water alongside them while we try to figure a way to get them out.
I love being beside the people I love at all parts of the river – even if they or I am stuck in the branches. Yet at some point, often after days of trying to figure out how to get them unstuck, I feel a deep hole of fear in my belly and hear a little girls voice telling me that “I need to get them out, or I’ll lose them.” Already tired from days of treading water to stay in one place against the current, I franticly try thinking of other ways to “help” them. If I can just lift one arm out to grab the branches and toss them down the river maybe I can free them. So I try this, constantly being forced forward each time I lift an arm out to grab a branch, toss it and then swim back against the current to where I was treading water beside them. I do however manage to remove a few branches this way. Sometimes the branches are tangled up too much though and instead of the easier task of just grabbing and throwing them, I have to hold onto the pile and work to untangle them while fighting against the river seemingly wanting to pull my legs forward to see what’s around the next bend. The top half of my body is pulled backwards as I work to untangle branches and the bottom half is pulled forwards with the flowing river — I must appear to be in such conflict with myself. But “I’m not!” I tell myself in a strangely child like voice. “I’m simply “helping” this person, whom I love, become unstuck so we can once again float the river together.”
My efforts feel fairly grand, so grand that at times I imagine that this is the point of the story (if there was one) where the narrator would describe me in heroic ways. Pausing to think of how heroic I am, I look at the person in the middle of the branches and see that they’re not sweating or panting at all. They’re merely sitting — what looks like – comfortably amongst the pile of branches. “But they can’t be content to stay here I tell myself,” feeling that awful hollow hole of fear in my belly. “They MUST want to come along. They always said they wanted to do this and when they got stuck they called for me to come back. They must still want it.” Conflicted by this I grab on tighter and watch them, waiting for a sign that they do want to come with me. In this pause I notice how deep the hole feels in my stomach and how hard the river is pulling my legs forward and how much I want to allow it. But “I can’t just leave them here” says the little girls voice in my head. “Good people don’t do that. Good people stay and fight no matter how hard the river is pulling them forward. It’s for them that I’m doing it!”
In this moment — the moment in the story where time stands still and the whole scene seems so perfectly clear — I feel the irony in my words and hear a woman’s voice speak over the little girls saying “Just as I have the choice to let the river carry me, they have the choice to stay. Both are choices and regardless of whether one is to stay and one is to go, it doesn’t mean anyone is leaving anyone.” Paused in time for a second while I contemplate what she is saying, I notice that the hole of fear in my belly is gone and……. just like that I let go. Like the most beautiful orgasm in the universe I’m carried forward, swept into the ebbs and flows of the current and the wind in my hair and sun on my neck. I look back for a second and see the person in the branches, right before I’m swept into another orgasmic current, smiling at me lovingly and experiencing life in the way they are choosing. I smile back at them with a smile full of absolute love, then close my eyes and float on with the life I am choosing carried forward with the sound of the woman’s voice whispering softly in my ear “It’s all choice. We all choose each day to flow or to stop flowing. The only way I will lose them is if I stop my own flow.”
**** Dedicated to one of the many partners on my river :Justine. Thank you for reminding me of my own choice and my own voice. <3
by Natasha | Aug 25, 2020 | Body Image, Posts, Self loving/masturbation, Sexual liberation, Vulvas |
I’m sitting in a farmer’s field about ten minutes from my home, naked, leaning against a hay bale.
The wind is blowing my hair in crazy directions, and I imagine myself as one of those women in books who looks wild and free and you can just tell by her wind blown hair that she had some great orgasms that day …… and every day.
My skin is brown from all the summer sunshine, and when I turn my legs towards it, I can see my blond thigh hair, shimmer like gold.
A tampon string dangles from my vulva and I take it out, happy that I don’t need to worry about staining any sheets in this field.
There are two tummy rolls at the bottom of my stomach and I place my hand over them, tracing the stretch marks that make a spiral pattern around my belly button. I think back to the words of the surgeon I went to years ago, who asked me why I wanted to change this part of my body. Closing my eyes and feeling the texture that the stretch marks offer my fingers, I give thanks that I didn’t —and imagine my beautiful children growing inside my belly — pushing and stretching my skin with their long limbs.
My eyes move down to my vulva and I see my lips like the petals of a flower blooming in the morning sun. Encouraging them to bloom some more, I move my hand towards the petals and feel their softness. Years back I used to feel ashamed of how fully I bloom. Today, I don’t think there is a part of my body as beautiful as my pussy, and I promise to give her thanks every day for the plentiful gifts she offers me.
I pleasure myself in this field — against the bail that I imagine the farmer put there just for me. A mom of 5 on her evening walk, with her dog who’s off chasing geese.
I laugh as I cum, and afterwards, stand up and put my clothes back on to go back to the city, my home and my family. Seeing the wet spot on the ground I think with a smile, of the abundant crop the farmer will be blessed with next year.
*****My orgasm and my words are dedicated with endless love, to Betty Dodson – my mama of pleasure on her 91st birthday today.
