It would’ve made perfect sense for me to go that route.
Sex and pleasure have always been evergreen selling points throughout the history of humanity. And I’ve always been curious about them. But on top of receiving the same shame conditioning like everyone else, my teen self was also a friendless social reject, so I never had a boyfriend to explore sexuality with.
And my nervous system would’ve been entirely unable to hold a romantic relationship, much less a sexual one.
So my way of experiencing sexual pleasure were porn and erotica.
I still feel the detrimental effects of my porn consumption today. I’ve had to completely rewire my physical understanding of intimacy and pleasure, but that’s a topic for another time.
But as detrimental as the effects were, at least I had some relationship with my sexuality instead of suppressing it and punishing myself for any physical needs, as many women learn to do.
My pussy was on every day. Yes, I extracted from her a lot. But she wasn’t numb or deadened or greyed out of my life.
In my early twenties, our relationship evolved. Slowly, I moved away from external stimulation and returned to my internal sensations. I was fed up with pumping my brain for dopamine by watching pixels on a screen. More and more, my body signaled her dissatisfaction to me. Porn now caused grief and emptiness where adrenaline and relief used to be.
“Are you really going to be addicted to this forever? This isn’t how you’re supposed to live your life. Get out there and be with a real person!”
I felt how soul-crushing my porn consumption was. It wasn’t what sexuality is supposed to be. After all, it’s an artificial mimic at best and a human trafficking and abuse industry at worst.
So I stopped. Of course, I had a few relapses which became less and less frequent because the grief and emptiness became so strong I gained no more pleasure from watching actors pretend to have sex.
I also discovered that my general horniness wasn’t caused by porn. Porn was just a symptom of a high libido woman who knew no aligned relationship to her desire.
Sexual energy is our life force. It’s our most powerful healing tool, physically and emotionally.
But I had no clue how to handle all that power.
For a while, I did a 180 and demonized my sexuality. Blaming it for my problems, rejecting my pussy, forcing myself to suppress Her only to obsessively masturbate a week later and dumping the accumulated energy as orgasms.
Then I learned about semen retention and tried to apply the same principles. This failed.
Then I learned about Kundalini practices and became more accepting about my abundance of sexual energy, and learning that, as a woman, it isn’t my path to tightly control Her.
So I refocused on the internal, and explored new pathways to pleasure. I mapped out every detail of my body. I know the exact pace, pressure, type of touch, and timing to climax whenever I want to. I taught myself how to have any type of orgasm with ease.
Pleasure is like a home channel for me.
So it would’ve made perfect sense for me to focus on this innate ability and teach women who struggle with pleasure how to get there, too.
Why didn’t I?
Because pleasure is not the truth.
Pleasure is not the “goal”.
Pleasure is so important, yes. We must make time to relax, reacquaint ourselves with our physical needs, and savor life.
But really: Who would it serve if I taught women how to push their pussies for more of their preferred sensations? Who would it serve if more women extracted from their life force by promoting their insecurities like, “If I have more orgasms/different types of orgasms, then I’ll get and keep a man!”
I’m not interested in perpetuating egos, inner child wounds, and energetic extraction.
I’m interested in encouraging your curiosity about your body and the sensations you feel inside. Unattached to an agenda or goal or plan.
And yes, pushing for orgasms is an attachment to an agenda, goal, or plan.
So instead of sexual pleasure being a main focus, I’ve learned how to expand sensations responsibly, allowing flow instead of tightening to make something happen.
And honestly, that flow allows for MUCH more sensation than tightening ever could. Our sexuality isn’t wired for force, but opening.
Hit me up for a discovery call to explore where you are on your Body Map.
It would’ve made perfect sense for me to go that route.
Sex and pleasure have always been evergreen selling points throughout the history of humanity. And I’ve always been curious about them. But on top of receiving the same shame conditioning like everyone else, my teen self was also a friendless social reject, so I never had a boyfriend to explore sexuality with.
And my nervous system would’ve been entirely unable to hold a romantic relationship, much less a sexual one.
So my way of experiencing sexual pleasure were porn and erotica.
I still feel the detrimental effects of my porn consumption today. I’ve had to completely rewire my physical understanding of intimacy and pleasure, but that’s a topic for another time.
But as detrimental as the effects were, at least I had some relationship with my sexuality instead of suppressing it and punishing myself for any physical needs, as many women learn to do.
My pussy was on every day. Yes, I extracted from her a lot. But she wasn’t numb or deadened or greyed out of my life.
In my early twenties, our relationship evolved. Slowly, I moved away from external stimulation and returned to my internal sensations. I was fed up with pumping my brain for dopamine by watching pixels on a screen. More and more, my body signaled her dissatisfaction to me. Porn now caused grief and emptiness where adrenaline and relief used to be.
“Are you really going to be addicted to this forever? This isn’t how you’re supposed to live your life. Get out there and be with a real person!”
I felt how soul-crushing my porn consumption was. It wasn’t what sexuality is supposed to be. After all, it’s an artificial mimic at best and a human trafficking and abuse industry at worst.
So I stopped. Of course, I had a few relapses which became less and less frequent because the grief and emptiness became so strong I gained no more pleasure from watching actors pretend to have sex.
I also discovered that my general horniness wasn’t caused by porn. Porn was just a symptom of a high libido woman who knew no aligned relationship to her desire.
Sexual energy is our life force. It’s our most powerful healing tool, physically and emotionally.
But I had no clue how to handle all that power.
For a while, I did a 180 and demonized my sexuality. Blaming it for my problems, rejecting my pussy, forcing myself to suppress Her only to obsessively masturbate a week later and dumping the accumulated energy as orgasms.
Then I learned about semen retention and tried to apply the same principles. This failed.
Then I learned about Kundalini practices and became more accepting about my abundance of sexual energy, and learning that, as a woman, it isn’t my path to tightly control Her.
So I refocused on the internal, and explored new pathways to pleasure. I mapped out every detail of my body. I know the exact pace, pressure, type of touch, and timing to climax whenever I want to. I taught myself how to have any type of orgasm with ease.
Pleasure is like a home channel for me.
So it would’ve made perfect sense for me to focus on this innate ability and teach women who struggle with pleasure how to get there, too.
Why didn’t I?
Because pleasure is not the truth.
Pleasure is not the “goal”.
Pleasure is so important, yes. We must make time to relax, reacquaint ourselves with our physical needs, and savor life.
But really: Who would it serve if I taught women how to push their pussies for more of their preferred sensations? Who would it serve if more women extracted from their life force by promoting their insecurities like, “If I have more orgasms/different types of orgasms, then I’ll get and keep a man!”
I’m not interested in perpetuating egos, inner child wounds, and energetic extraction.
I’m interested in encouraging your curiosity about your body and the sensations you feel inside. Unattached to an agenda or goal or plan.
And yes, pushing for orgasms is an attachment to an agenda, goal, or plan.
So instead of sexual pleasure being a main focus, I’ve learned how to expand sensations responsibly, allowing flow instead of tightening to make something happen.
And honestly, that flow allows for MUCH more sensation than tightening ever could. Our sexuality isn’t wired for force, but opening.
Hit me up for a Discovery Call to explore where you are on your Body Map.
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