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 | Aug 16, 2024 | Raising children with a healthy sexuality, Sex and mothering, Vulnerability |
Based on a true story:
There once was a beautiful little girl with big brown eyes that, from the moment she was born, was the delight of her mama. Observant and contemplative, mama marveled in experiencing through the little girl the wonder she saw in the world around her. The little girl loved closeness, being touched softly, cuddling and sleeping alongside her mama. She had a special connection with her grandpa who, with the strength of a carpenter, held her in his strong arms beneath the trees in their yard — watching the leaves above them blow while the breeze touched her face.
As she grew into a toddler and began interacting more with others, mama noticed that she often held back, taking her time to settle in and feel comfortable with new people and experiences. Being such a beautiful and curious little girl, many friends and family wanted to hold her and while she enjoyed them, she didn’t like feeling pressured to go to them. When this happened, her natural curiosity turned off and her body stiffened as she retreated back into the safety of her parents arms. Witnessing this, mama asked the people to simply invite her towards them with open eyes and smile — allowing space for her natural curiosity to draw her forward in her own time. The ones who listened to mama, delighted in the softness of the the little girls chubby legs as she sat on their lap, and the sing songy sounds of her voice as she chatted away. The ones who insisted on rushing her, were left disappointed that she chose to enjoy them only from the lap of someone else.
As the girl grew, so did her circle of people and she especially loved playing with other children. As always, she took her time at first, sitting on the edge, observing them and waiting to feel, without pressure, the readiness in her tummy drawing her closer. Invariably it would come and she would run off to play for hours and hours — occasionally looking back to check that mama was still there. Mama loved her little girl more than life itself and the only thing that could get in the way of that were when her own unresolved childhood wounds showed up. On one particular day, mama felt the pressure from other parents insisting her daughter play before she was ready. Feeling the need to please them, mama pushed her little girl to go and almost instantly was brought back to presence by the sight of her daughters little body contract and harden. Acknowledging her wrong doing, mama apologized and felt the little girl soften and settle against her chest as she held her, welcoming in space for her to reconnect to the feeling in her tummy that told her when she was ready.
The little girl grew older and taller, loving school, friends and spending time outside in nature. Sometimes, mama would watch her through the window laying on a blanket under a tree and looking up at the leaves above her. Intuitively mama felt that this was one of the ways her little girl connected to herself just as her grandpa, now passed, had taught her to do all those years ago. Other times she would, like any other kid, explore the world with her siblings, climbing trees and testing her body. Every so often she would stop and look at mama —questioning with her eyes how high she could go or what her body was able to do — and mama would respond “listen to your tummy, it knows best.”
The girl grew into a teenager who cared a lot about the world and the environment around her. She was tall and beautiful and, along with her contemplative and quiet nature, this made some people perceive her as aloof. She wasn’t at all — she just knew she needed space alone at times and to take time to pause and listen to her tummy’s wisdom.
When the girl began dating she listened to her tummy to set the pace of what felt right for her and knew that no one else’s desires were more important than what her body needed. “No ones gonna die if I say no to them” she told her mama. This seemingly simple statement touched something deep inside mama. She recalled her life long pattern of pleasing and as a result, internally bracing and guarding from touch that came from the feeling in other peoples tummy’s but not her own. Feeling unable to say no, made it hard for mama to feel when her tummy said yes. When had she forgotten to slow down and listen? Why had it taken her to this moment to remember that the wisdom she supported in her daughter, was innate to all of us?
Pondering this, mama went to her room, laid down on the bed and — with her hand on her tummy, turned her eyes towards the trees outside her open window — watching the leaves move and feeling the wind on her face. It took some time, but soon enough she felt something faintly familiar in her tummy — a resonance that she remembered feeling way back when she was a tiny little girl herself. “Listen to your tummy, it knows best.”
by Natasha | Jun 9, 2023 | Awakening, connection, Posts, Sex and mothering, Vulnerability |
I haven’t felt the internal pull to write and share my innermost self with a wider audience in so long. Maybe I’ve felt too tender, maybe I needed the space, maybe I was fulfilled with sharing my innermost with the people closest to me and in the spaces I hold for clients. I’m not sure exactly the reason. Today though, I feel that pull.
Last year I lost my friend Brenda. She was in the deep, early stages of grieving her son Thomas who died by suicide just over a year before. We weren’t everyday friends, but I helped raise Thomas in my daycare, our boys had been best friends, we bonded over beers, laughed at how we both felt inferior to each other for being a “better” mother and in particular connected through the vulnerability of loss and grief. I loved Thomas too and throughout preschool and elementary, I wiped tears from his eyes, told him how wonderfully kind he was to be such a good friend to the younger children in my care and cuddled him when he was hurt. I was his emergency contact, and I’ll never forget how my heart stopped the moment the school called to tell me he died. I’ll never forget Brenda collapsing into me inside her back door, with Thomas’ shoes still lined up on the mat ready to be put on. I’ll never forget the pain in my children’s eyes and holding my daughter Selam up as she struggled to stay in her body at his funeral.
I checked in with Brenda regularly after Thomas died and connected her to a suicide support group for grieving parents. That wonderful group became an absolute lifeline for her and, in my view, was the one place where she felt 100% understood in her grief. Still, I worried about her a lot. Thomas was her only child and I didn’t know a mom who loved their child more than she did. Brenda loved seeing my son Mateyo, loved talking about the times she’d taken him and Thomas to the Exhibition, or to their farm and how happy they were together. When she hugged Mateyo, I could see in her closed eyes that her hands reaching up around the shoulders on his tall, lithe body reminded her of hugging Thomas. I could see how it hurt her to let go.
We found Brenda on the cold floor of her bathroom one day in May, after she hadn’t responded to texts for 48 hrs. She’d been there, still alive in body but not in soul, for nearly 2 days after suffering a brain aneurism. Sweet Brenda who had devoted her life to her only child Thomas for 17 years and who would do anything for anyone, was gone. I remember standing on her front lawn with the paramedics taking her away thinking how in this moment so many things that had seemed important, just didn’t matter at all. Facebook didn’t matter. What people think of me didn’t matter. Being successful didn’t matter……
The first weeks after her death, I thought I was going insane. I’d never felt like that before. I couldn’t handle what I felt. The injustice of it. The pain of seeing her like that. The reality of her being alone for hours and hours in that state. I wanted to rip my skin off. Slowly, the pain eased and, miraculously it seemed, I started to feel okay again. I was sad, but I could be in my skin, and I was okay. The image of her curled up and soiled on the bathroom floor didn’t leave me though. I couldn’t help but think that even if I kept on living the rest of my life in service to others — my clients, my children — that I could still end up alone, dying on a cold bathroom floor too. If so much doesn’t matter, then what does matter? Like a curious observer, I stepped back and took stock of my life. I saw that I’d been running for years since my divorce, working several jobs to both cover up my guilt at ending my marriage, and make enough money to support my kids on my own. I don’t know if working that much helped the guilt, but I could see that I was able to support them and I might not need to work so hard. What was the cost on me? Was it enough for me to end up on my bathroom floor alone too? Did I want to work this much?
Slowly I started making changes by cutting back my hours at my job as an ADHD Coach and creating space for my Counseling practice, which provided enough income that I didn’t need to run myself into the ground. Why hadn’t I done that before? I’d been too busy creating self suffering in an attempt to alleviate guilt. Wasn’t being a mom all about sacrificing yourself? I started setting really firm and clear boundaries with my clients, children, friends. I quickly realized that I no longer wanted to work that job at all and started making a plan to quit. I hired a Coach and went to therapy to help me unravel the strings of guilt and self-punishment that were so deeply ingrained in me. When I became a mother, I did so because I wanted children more than anything else in the world. AND, I was afraid of facing myself and the other things I wanted for my life. I didn’t know I could have both. Motherhood was the ultimate way to sacrifice myself.
I kept going. My grief fueled me to do hard inner work. The layers of exoskeleton that had been removed through the past 7 years of stepping into vulnerability, uncovered a deeper set of layers. Layers over my innermost self, the part of me that isn’t just interested in meeting the needs of others. The me that has dreams of my own. I realized I was tired of how much work Bodysex retreats were and that I no longer wanted to do them in such a laborious way. I LOVED the circle of sharing, I loved the weekends with women, I loved how I grew and felt seen from them and I loved sharing pleasure. I didn’t love all the work before and after though. Maybe it didn’t need to be so hard….. I stopped offering workshops in Saskatoon and continued in Quebec where I had support with all the marketing, advertising, retreat supplies and food. I quit my job and made the decision to only Counsel clients 3 days a week and devote the other 2 days to something my innermost self was passionate about — writing a book. My work blossomed. The moment I quit my job (and I mean literally the moment), I had more than enough clients to fill my days and then some. Since then I have created a daily practice centering around myself and my passions — self-care, connection, health, pleasure and my work which involves all of that!
My days include space in between sessions so that I can ground and centre and think of the next person coming before they pass through my door. I say no to working weekends. I devote 4 evenings a week to going to the gym and 2 days a week to pilates – because my body feels great when I create space for it. I eat really healthy food, I drink wine, I walk every morning, devote time to enjoying pleasure, laughing and connecting with people I love. I can’t bring myself to advertise my work when I already have enough and don’t want or need to be bigger, more well known, get more likes or have more followers. I’m deeply grateful for what I have, and I just want to live my life from the innermost part of myself. I’ve noticed that in the space I’ve created, I’m closer to my mom, my sisters, my children. I’m more generous because I’m not running on empty ready to crash the moment I stop. I have space throughout my day to pause and feel and enjoy the moments.
I often wish I could tell Brenda how much she inspired me. How much I saw myself in her, how much I think of her in all the work I do, how much of an impact she has made on my life. After Thomas died, she told me that she could see her own pain every time she looked in the eyes of the homeless. She made a point to always look at them and had plans to devote her time to working with the homeless. I wish I could tell her that I saw myself in her too. In her loving devotion to her son, her outward care of others and in how she died. I know that could be me too. That could be any of us. That reflection changed me, and I’m forever grateful to her for helping me create space in my life for what matters. Spending time with people I love, smelling the lilacs first bloom in Spring, allowing others to care for me, the space to be present and ME.
In loving memory of Brenda and Thomas Schoor
by Natasha | Feb 22, 2022 | Body Image, Raising children with a healthy sexuality, Vulnerability |
**Inspired by a breast cancer survivor I worked with, who asked me to share with other cancer survivors how I helped her accept her body again. I helped her in much the same way I helped myself, so here’s my story.
I started hating my body was when I was a teenager. My legs were too big and muscular, my breasts didn’t touch together like the women in magazines, and I knew I hated my vulva without even looking at it. I found ways to hide these things by wearing pants all year round, using my arms to push my breasts together during sex (yes I’m serious) and never looking at my vulva. As the years passed and I became a mother, I added a cesarean scar from 4 births and endless stretch marks that made my skin wrinkled to my “hate list.” I hated my body.
One day, while touching one of my five children, I wondered what he felt receiving touch that stemmed from a source that I loathed. Sliding my hands over his perfect little body, I wondered if he felt the love in my heart for him or, if he could feel my hatred of the body it came from. Worse yet, did it feel sourceless like tea pouring from an empty pot? There’s nothing I love more than my children and I wanted them to feel that love in every touch of my hand. So, I decided to try bringing the love I felt for them — towards myself, and see if I could fill up my own tea pot. If I could do that, I would be confident in the love they were receiving from my touch.
Making the decision was one step but the question of how to find love for my body when I hated it, was another. I thought of all the ways I showed my children love by looking at them, touching them softly and offering them kind and loving words. So (with the term “fake it til you make it” in my head) I imagined I was touching someone else I cared about, and slowly began to touch my body. It was really difficult at first — excruciating actually — and often brought me to tears. I’d avoided my body for so long and now here it — no she — was and the depth of how little I knew her and how much I’d rejected her, was right in my face. With commitment, I touched her everyday and started to remember the stories of the scars and stretch marks and other remnants of journeys I’ve been on.
Lines on my face reminded me of the sun in Kenya and all the beautiful relationships I had there. “Thank you my body.”
The loose skin on my belly reminded me that it was the first home for four of my children and I wondered about the belly of the mama who birthed my 5th child. “Thank you my body. Thank you Selam’s birth mamas’ body.”
I felt my cesarean scar and the lack of nerve endings across it. Slowly, finger by finger, I replaced the shame of my body not working properly to birth my children, with compassion for what my body went through to bring me 4 of my children. What a journey we’ve been through and you’re still here carrying me. “Thank you my body.”
Years later, I discovered I had thyroid cancer and the tumor, along with my right thyroid, was removed and there was a new scar with new feelings of shame. What had I done or not done to make myself get cancer? What am I doing now that could make it happen again? Why me? Why has my body failed me? Thinking again of my children and imagining how much love I would give them if they had cancer or a scar, and how I’d feel even more love for that part of them — I gave that to myself. I touched my neck gently and expressed appreciation for helping me find my voice that had been silent for so long. I spoke to her and under my touch, felt her soften.
“I see you and I know you’re here even if some of you is missing. Thank you my body”
It’s been 12 years from that first time I touched myself, and now I know my body so well. She’s my best friend. She’s honest with me when I eat something that doesn’t feel right for her and she’s taught me that she likes to be seen and validated and loved too. Sometimes I get caught in the trap of comparing her to others or of wishing she looked different, and I just come back to her and how she feels under my fingers and the stories she’s carried me through. When I do this, I can’t help but love her. Thinking of how I love my loved ones unconditionally, I remind her of all the ways I love her unconditionally. I love her scars and stretch marks, the thyroid still here and the one that’s gone, and her beautiful vulva. I tell her that she’s made perfectly and that I wouldn’t want her any other way, and with my touch and my words, I feel her soften under my fingers. “Thank you my body”
Today, when I touch someone else, I don’t doubt that they feel the source of this love coming through each of my fingers. With this love, I filled my own tea pot.
by Natasha | Nov 24, 2021 | Bodysex testimonial, Self loving/masturbation, Vulnerability |
The more Bodysex® workshops I do, the more I’m reminded how far I’ve come since I started this journey nearly 7 years ago. For the first several years, each workshop brought about massive shifts in me — as if I was literally digging up a proverbial pile of steaming, hot, shit from deep inside myself and hauling it out to look at and take apart. Sometimes I’d feel rejuvenated for weeks after and, sometimes completely raw and wiped out. As time went on —I learned that I always survive the vulnerability of this excavation — and I started to notice things feeling lighter and easier. The big, old pile of shit got smaller and smaller leaving only remnants of shit to scrape up — shit that comes from no longer having these old burdens to weigh me down. Shit that arises from feeling so aligned with myself and my values that it feels impossible to follow my old way of pleasing others or accommodating myself to fit into what I think others want of me. Getting rid of that massive pile of shit, makes me ask myself “If I’m not looking for others approval as my guide to what’s right and wrong for me: What is actually right and wrong for me? What are my values?”
This past weekend in Quebec Bodysex® , I noticed remnants of my old pile of shit — particularly around shame in pleasure. Much of my work revolves around pleasure and mostly I know I have a right to it and I exercise that right all the time. I don’t feel shame in masturbation, pleasure with my partner, fantasy etc. however, I can see that I still have societal conditioning around where it’s appropriate and how that’s tied into the ways I imagine others view me. As we sat down for lunch on the first day of the workshop, one woman said “pleasure is reason enough.” I have probably said that 100 times before but hearing it from her really made me wonder if I actually believe it in all areas of my life. Cognitively yes I do, but do I know it with my whole heart and soul? Do I align with that in my life? Am I still caught in what others would think of me if I enjoy things solely for pleasure or if I actually seek things out for pleasure? We explored this idea a lot throughout the workshop through fantasy, juicy stories from our lives and self pleasuring together. Those all felt very safe and comfortable for me because they fit in to what is already authentically aligned within me.
Raised in a Christian home by a minister who felt shame for pleasure, I think (as is true for many of us) shame has been passed down in my lineage. I feel shame to share that I’m going on a trip to Mexico with my family this winter (and that I’m really excited!), or to want a glass of wine on Friday night. I don’t feel shame in doing those things, I feel shame in wanting them because they’re pleasurable — like wanting things for pleasure is somehow wrong. I can feel shame that my touch at times might feel pleasurable to a client I’m working with in Intimacy Coaching, or that I might feel pleasure in their touch. On further reflection, I don’t feel shame that pleasure happens, I feel shame if I enjoy it.
Reflecting on my beautiful weekend in Quebec, and pondering all of this as I write, I can almost hear the metal shovel scraping the ground under this pile of shit. The pile isn’t big, these beliefs aren’t strong anymore, I know that pleasure heals and to feel it means I am present and alive and open and none of that is wrong — even though most of my life I was too shut off to feel it. I am alive and open to feel with my Bodysex® sisters, in dedicated time with my family, in sessions with my clients and in beautiful intimacy with my partner. I find it ironic that breaking down my conditioning has allowed me to be present enough to feel an enjoyment for pleasure itself and, that it’s in that very thing, that I feel the most shame.
Thank you to my Bodysex® sisters who’s unconditional love and acceptance helped me to get rid of a bit more of my shit and remind me that Pleasure is reason enough.
With love to:
Blossom, Wildy, Mangue Juteuse, Cock Licker, Heart, Mystery, Fantasia, Anahata, Rose, Happy Flower, Sunda, Papillon
by Natasha | Sep 29, 2021 | Bodysex testimonial, Bodysex workshops, Self loving/masturbation, Vulnerability, Vulvas, Workshops |
For anyone who wonders what a Bodysex® experience can be like, or about what I do and why it means so much to me, ….. here is a powerful testimonial from a woman who was in the circle with me this month in Quebec.
I have one spot left open in Bodysex® Saskatoon Nov. 26-28.
“My challenge for the weekend was to free myself from my blockages in relation to pleasure and to reconnect with my body and its beauty, my beauty. I got naked, both physically and emotionally, in front of the magnificent group of women that we were. Still, that wasn’t the hardest part for me. It is rather to look at myself fully, straight in the soul and in the heart. Not just telling my story and the reasons why I had come to dislike my body, but rather looking at myself from within, in order to dust off and let the light in. There, I found love for myself, admiration and wonder for my body which carried life and which can now create differently. There, I found the desire to surrender to pleasure rather than get rid of it because of the fear of losing my balance. I reconnected with my senses and my inner joy. I was able to say “I am a woman in a sexual body and I have the right to pleasure”. By saying this sentence, I have freed myself from a socially accepted view of the female body and the stifling of its power. I chose to respect myself and name my wants and needs rather than accept everything with the fear of hurting. I also learned to love my vulva, despite or rather thanks to its difference. Natasha has helped a lot in this process, because she knows how to put us at ease.
A week after the workshop, I still feel beautiful, inside and out. I feel powerful, alive and grateful. I really needed this workshop, this feeling of deep and authentic connection with other women. Each of them came to enlighten a part of me through their shared experience. I found it so beautiful to feel that despite our sometimes very different life stories, we were all linked by similar aspirations and challenges. I recommend to all those who hesitate to participate in the Bodysex workshop to dare step out of their comfort zone and dive into the pleasure zone! No matter what level the job needs to be done, the weekend will take you in leaps and bounds towards greater happiness and better self-knowledge. I could go on and on talking about the workshop…I am so deeply grateful for Natasha and Marika for having led it by goddesses hands. Thank you for offering this space of transformation and liberation. Thank you for everything!”
