Reprinted with permission from Medium.

Throughout my four-plus decades inhabiting the earth, I’ve felt angry with my body often.

I remember before though. I remember the sense of glee I had as a toddler when I pooped — peeking in the toilet, proudly watching the steaming logs I produced as they exited — enjoying that feeling. Before that, I remember liking the squish of poop in my cloth diaper and my babysitter not being happy about the smooshed mess she had to change.

That was one of the first times I was aware my body was capable of “messing up.”

When I was four, my parents introduced me to the science of sex and the caveat of love before sex. They told me never to be ashamed of my body and that it was okay to touch myself. Long story short, I was also basically told not to tell anyone about that conversation.

Cue years of masturbation behind closed doors and excessive secrecy which led to ingrained shame and sexual issues as an adult.

Throughout much of my life, I relied on orgasms to get me through undiagnosed anxiety, depression, and OCD.

Looking back, I realize I learned to treat my body as an inconvenient truth. It mostly produced shame and pain but was also capable of great pleasure.

. . .

At 14, my period came in torrents of blood so heavy, a visit to the emergency room was necessary. The nurse accused me of miscarrying.

I’d never had sex or even kissed a boy.

She didn’t even apologize when the pregnancy test came back negative. She’d looked at me and my body with scorn and suspicion. She didn’t trust either of us.

My body was slender angles and low self-esteem throughout middle school, high school, college. Although I gained curves, my self-esteem remained shaky in my 20s and 30s.

In my 40s, I realize I’ve been treating my body like a traitor for most of my life. Maybe you relate? I was too skinny, too big. My breasts were too uneven or too flat or too small or too saggy. My nose was too crooked, my toes were too strange.

I live with undiagnosed chronic pain. I think a lot of this pain is held at a cellular level — in units of unprocessed rage, anger, and shame around my body.

Intuitively, I think a lot of women are holding on to similar emotions.

. . .

In 2021, I began a journey of releasing shame around sexuality. It was time to reframe some deep-held illogical beliefs.

I finally realized I am sexual and a mom — I didn’t need to separate and compartmentalize the two. I am powerful, divine, sexual, and a mom. All of these components create me — there’s no need to fragment myself. However, many women rely on compartmentalization of self to get through our day-to-day lives in a society that holds unrealistic expectations of women.

I accepted that I have avoidance tendencies. I internalized I am worthy of pleasure. My sexuality is inherently tied to my creativity. Breathwork during sex and sexual pleasure have immense capabilities for sexual healing. Sex is one way to be as close as possible to the infinite source, the divine.

When I have partnered sex, it is a privilege and a pleasure to worship and be worshipped by my partner.

Sex in middle age is beautiful. There are obstacles, like lower sex drives, children, and the busyness of life. Prioritizing solo sex (masturbation) and partnered sex is important. It helps my partner and I relieve tension, anxiety, and excess energy. Sex together also helps us reconnect at a level of emotional trust and intimacy that I haven’t ever found in a non-sexual relationship.

Sex in middle age is beautiful.

. . .

As I’ve begun to realize that I’ve held my body in disdain throughout much of my life and begun to celebrate and appreciate it instead, my sense of wellbeing and desire for the sensual has increased.

Throughout my life, when I can afford it, I’ve given myself treats such as massages and acupuncture. They’ve never been a constant in my life — until 2021.

This is the year I’ve prioritized both my sexuality and my body — this vessel in which our breath, spirit, intellect, emotions, and connections live.

I’m done avoiding my body. I’m done ignoring my body’s cues. Yesterday, I had a bad headache. I knew it would exacerbate it to write, so I chose not to write. Last night, the sinus headache turned into a tension headache and kept me from sleeping well. Instead of tossing and turning, I put Vick’s vapor rub on my nose, massaged my sinuses, and propped my head up. Instead of denying the pain, I acknowledged it.

This morning, I took Tylenol and drank coffee, and reminded myself I’d be getting pampered at 10:00 with a CranioSacral adjustment and acupuncture. As my friend and bodyworker eased my sinuses and adjusted my tightened neck and sacrum, we chatted.

We each have one daughter and we are happy we’re doing body-image, women’s aging, and sexuality work. We think our daughters will one day benefit from this work we are putting in. Maybe our daughters won’t grow up with such disdain for their bodies, instead, seeing them as the powerful, sensual, divine vessels that they are.

. . .

Since I’ve spent a good four decades of my life ignoring the pleas from my body, there’s a lot of emotion tied into my body aches and pains. My hope for myself — and for you — is that we learn how to acknowledge our body-feelings. My hope is that instead of repressing these feelings, acknowledging them will allow us to process them and release what needs to be released out into the universe. The universe is certainly capable of processing the cellular level emotions of rage, anger, shame, joy, love, and all else.

One of the ways I’m beginning to come back to my body is by embracing sensual body experiences. Because I’ve spent years avoiding how my body is feeling, I’ve avoided treating it to sensual experiences in my daily life. I invite you to join me in trying some of these sensual experiences:

Wear pajamas that feel good against your skin (I just ordered some with a silk feel)
Mindfully stroke yourself. I like to softly stroke my legs or arms. Stroke your hair. Cupping my jaw and cheeks in my hand is a very comforting gesture I enjoy.
Snuggle with a pet.
Garden. I find a lot of sensual interaction in the garden, especially when I slow down and allow myself to observe the worlds inhabited around me. What insects are out? Which bird songs do I hear? How does the sunlight look through the leaves of the trees?
Take the time to incorporate gentle strokes when washing my face and applying moisturizer.
Use candles, essential oils, teas, and spices to fulfill my sense of smell.
Listen to nature, ambient noise, or music that soothes.

The more I tune in to my body, the more able I am to assist my body in knowing what “normal” feels like. I’m beginning to experience my body as pleasurable instead of painful. I hope this is something you can experience, too.

I hope we can reclaim our body’s wisdom. I hope we can begin trusting the universe of our bodies and the divine universe to work in conjunction for the greater good — life essence and flow.