Releasing Pressure Associated with Periods of Decreased Intimacy
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I think a lot about the ebb and flow of desire, the way it moves through cycles and seasons just like anything else. When desire wanes and we go through longer periods without intimacy, pressure can build up. We might feel a greater resistance to any type of intimacy. I’ve certainly been through this, finding myself thinking it’s been a while so, if I show any affection towards my partner, they’ll expect sex.
This speaks to a certain thought bias we might adopt, called mind reading, or assuming what our partner is thinking. This might look like assuming our partner wants / expects sex when they’re simply touching us. And they might, but without asking or communicating, we’re left to fill in the blanks and assume what the intention is versus knowing what it is.
If it’s been a while since you and your partner have connected sexually — or you find yourself exclusively using the sexual staircase model¹ — any kind of advance or bid for physical connection could feel charged. The pressure we feel to perform or arrive at a specific sexual act can cause us to seize up at any sign of physical intimacy.
To break free from this kind of contraction, it’s important to both step off the sexual staircase and communicate. If it’s been a while since engaging in physical intimacy, you might start by asking to work your way back in slowly or request to take penetration off the table. This might sound like can we focus on touching and kissing right now? or I’d love to take our time touching each other without it necessarily leading to anything else.
If that still feels overwhelming, cuddling might be your desired activity or even focusing on pleasure that doesn’t involve physicality: spending quality time together without distractions, engaging in a connected conversation, trying a new activity, making a meal together. Stepping back and broadening the definition of what pleasure means allows us breathing room to more genuinely receive and give affection without conditions.
That’s the relational side of things. Communicating with your partner can help release the pressure valve but it’s also important to tend to the connection with yourself. Since pressure around sex can cause mental distractions and take us out of the moment, it’s important to integrate mindfulness into all aspects of our life, including our pleasure. Research shows that mindfulness is a key component for satisfying sexual experiences. Mindfulness is a combination of presence, awareness, and non-judgment.
Being present can mean tuning into our immediate surroundings. For me, focusing on touch and tactile experience has been helpful: placing my hands on my body while I watch my breath; making food and attuning to what my hands are touching and feeling in the process; engaging my senses; slowing down while I eat; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 grounding practice.
Non-judgment has meant not piling judgment on top of how I’m already feeling about intimacy. Focusing on my internal response to my experience has been a powerful way to soften stress. Meta-emotions contribute to chronic stress, so working to quiet judgement can calm the waters.
Sprinkling mindfulness throughout our day in nonsexual ways can eventually make it easier to incorporate into our intimate lives. When can I pause and notice my breath, my physical sensations, the feeling of the breeze brushing my skin, the sun’s warmth spreading across my face, my feet making contact with the ground?
Takeaways:
To help soften pressure around sex that comes from a season of low desire or a prolonged period without intimacy, be gentle and understanding with yourself (we have a lot to contend with and there are so many factors that contribute to disinterest in sex).
Communicate intentions and desires with your partner. You might talk about what you each value in your intimate connection and share what you’d like to focus on (quality time, sensual touch/massage, meaningful conversation, etc.). It’s okay to take certain sexual acts off the table for a period of time, especially if it allows you to be more present and genuine with your person.
Tend to the connection with yourself. Weave mindfulness throughout your day. Notice any judgments you place on yourself and see if you can soften them with your breath or another grounding practice. This takes time, so allow yourself patience and consistency with this practice.
¹ I first learned about the sexual staircase model in Desire by Mercy & Vencill. It’s essentially a tiered model of sex, placing sexual acts at certain levels, with the top level being penetration. This heteronormative model devalues other forms of pleasure that exist outside of penetration. Adhering to this model can cause us to get stuck (or bored / unstimulated) in our sexual lives.
Other updates:
*This blog, by FARIHA RÓISÍN, has been folding me deeper into the truth of Palestine’s history. It has felt like required reading for me and I recommend engaging with her work.
*Our Splendor of Recognition philosophy course has been so magnetic and nourishing. I am feeling inspired to offer another series in the near future, focusing on the Bhakti Sutras, which are all about love and devotion. Stay tuned!
*We just had our very first sex ed book club retreat! We cozied up in a cabin in upstate NY, made food together, did yoga, had a full moon ceremony, swapped stories, laughed until we cried, straight up cried, and shared stories all weekend. It was so special and I can’t wait to do it again ❤️ If you’re curious about what we’re reading next, you can join our Slack community here or follow me on Instagram for updates.
*I recently made this date caramel babka and the process of working with dough felt cathartic. It was a potent reminder of how using my body — attuning to the tactile — can provoke memory and help me process pockets of grief. It inspired an essay I’m working on and I wanted to share some bites of it with you:
During the first year of college, pleasure mostly existed within the dim light of my tiny dorm room TV. Every day, after class, I rushed back to catch my double header: Giada at Home and Barefoot Contessa. I self-imposed this daily ritual. It was a reminder of home, a blanket of comfort over the loneliness I felt as I adjusted to a new place. It whisked me back to my high school days, coming home to an empty house, getting to eat and watch whatever I wanted until the rest of my family showed up.
It was always the same after-school snack. A raspberry toaster strudel with two packets of icing. This obviously threw off the ratio of strudel to icing, turning another family member’s saccharine cravings into severe disappointment. I was a snack menace, throwing off the equilibrium inside the Pillsbury package, leaving a few strudels without their cloying companion.
I remember watching Ina Garten make some sort of sweet bread. She poured wrinkly raisins into a mixing bowl and I watched as time and moisture and heat rehydrated raisins into a different form. It reminded me of my mom’s homemade Irish Soda Bread, the anticipation of smearing room temperature butter over bloated, golden raisins.
✧˚ · .
Now, as I knead, rocking my body back and forth over my work surface, I watch the sticky mass of dough catch clumps of butter, incorporating itself into something smooth and glossy, moldable. Everything falls away for those 5-7 minutes of kneading. I am nothing but oil-slicked hands, a mess of flour and butter, a nervous system attuning itself to the rhythmic song of heat and touch transforming raw into ravished.