Finding our Desire: Survivors Exploring Sexual Liberation

I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and incest. I’m also a survivor of adult rape. For over three decades, I have been on a healing journey. How I choose to heal continues to shift — and that has been wonderful. Trauma has a way of engulfing and taking over, and so my healing has had to be interactive. After years of various forms of therapy, writing, and soul searching, I finally admitted that my traumatic experiences were affecting my life in significant ways, specifically my trust issues, my self-esteem, my relationships, and my mental health. The more I took important steps to address these issues, the more I realized that I needed something deeper. How I related to my body, how I was having sex, my desire, and my pleasure were topics that seemed to never come up.

Throughout the past few decades, I’ve had the opportunity to share space with many survivors across the country as they have explored their own desires. For us and many other survivors, the first step has been recognizing and voicing the impact of trauma. We need to understand how our sex life has been impacted, personally and in relationships. Some things come up right away, for example “I don’t like having sex with the lights off.” Other things may not be as tangible, for instance, not trusting people, not liking a particular sex act, or feeling pathologized by your partner because you like sex “too much.” Here is a list of some other impacts I have heard survivors share about the impact of trauma on their sex lives:

…I let my body be used as it is expected to. I let myself be treated as an object.
…I don’t have control over what I do with my body or what happens to it.
…made it difficult to trust others/engage in sexual activities with others.
…being terrified of being touched/but needing to be validated through sex.
…I struggle with intense disassociation, especially during sex.
…the combination of my genital dysphoria and my survivor history, make it hard/difficult for me to get excited about sex.
…A barrier to having positive sexual experiences is my tendency to associate all sex with my rape.
…reinforcing the idea that my desire led to my assault.
…insecurities, shame, unrealistic expectations.
…feeling like my sex life was stolen from me.

As the impact of trauma resurfaces, we need to voice the change we wish to see. We need to explore what we hope for ourselves in our sexual journey. Ask yourself, “What do I want for my sexual self this year, this month, or today?” For example, I’ve heard survivors say that they hope for the ability to view their naked body with pride. Or, others have hoped for being present as they connect with their body alone or with a partner. Here is a list of other hopes I have heard survivors share:

…the ability to tell people “no.”
…set clear boundaries on hook-ups initially.
…allowing myself to be single/embracing being alone.
…allowing myself to leave toxic people.
…sexy photo shoot.
…awareness of my physicality, freedom to say yes to sex more easily, freedom to have kinky sex.
…to feel validated in my experiences; better understand how to control triggers.
…to have a better relationship with my desires, naming them, embodying them, loving them.

While the healing journey of each survivor is as unique as that person, it’s good practice to engage with your hopes. Even if you don’t know what they are right now, begin by taking time to think about what they could be. Frequently check in with yourself as to what is going on with you—sexually, intimately, or within your relationships. Journaling can be helpful in keeping track of any patterns you are looking to strengthen or shift. Recognizing the impacts of our trauma keeps us engaged with our healing work. Expressing our hopes, gives us something to look forward to. Ask yourself the following:

1. How does thinking about having sex make you feel? Do you feel clarity about what your desires are (outside of any particular partner)? How do you feel in your body and your spirit before, during, and after sex?
2. Have you taken the time to take an inventory of emotional and sexual experiences with yourself and others?
3. What are some steps you see yourself taking in your journey to claim your self-defined sexuality, and sexual liberation?

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When it comes to sexual liberation for survivors, one of my main hopes is to expand our ideas around sex and relationships within a safety container. As we explore how we relate to others, sexually and otherwise, there are three elements that hold this safety container together: communication, setting boundaries, and consent. Below, I will expand on how I have implemented each of these elements to create the safety container that I needed to move forward in my healing journey.

1. Communication

Communication, including the ways we listen and understand the information given to us, is a critical component of reclaiming our agency. We are all complex people with histories and traumas that shape how we say things, how we speak up, or how we stay quiet. Communication can also be a daily act of resilience. We have the power to communicate our needs and desires, our experiences from the past, and our hopes for the future. How do you feel you best express yourself or your needs? How do you best receive information from others? How can you stay truly present when engaging with others?

For many years, my poor communication skills had led me to agreeing to what others wanted or needed. Instead of allowing others to dictate to me what would happen, I began creating a communication practice that placed me in power. I realized that it was extremely difficult for me to communicate anything about sex in the moment. I would get nervous, forget my boundary list, and often disassociate.

So, I began having negotiation dates. My favorite places to meet are coffee shops. They’re often bright, have internet access, and people. It feels safe to be around lots of people. I can be sexy and safe. I would get there early; pick the right table and get my herbal tea. I did not want to be jittery from caffeine. I’d look over my boundary list, breathe, and wait. This process allowed me to feel in control. I would carefully select the seat so that I never sat with my back to the exit. Being able to see everything around me helped me feel calm.

I had a plan in place: if I felt anxious or noticed that I was folding into myself at any point during the date, I would get up and go to the bathroom, take some deep breaths, call my care-buddy (a friend who knew I would be on the date and was willing to provide emotional support), and give myself a pep talk. Thankfully, I only had to follow through with that plan twice. Having a plan and checking in with my feelings during negotiation dates helped me relax and trust that I would not fall into my old patterns of people-pleasing. This helped me in a variety of ways: I was able to feel present in my conversations; I felt empowered to ask for the time I needed; and I was able to allow for excitement around possible interactions that we were discussing. The good negotiation dates felt like foreplay.

2. Setting Boundaries

This is hard personal work. This is the part where we have to be completely honest with ourselves about what we are not willing to tolerate in ourselves and others. Boundaries help clarify what we dislike or do not want; the bottom line that supports our well-being. To find your boundaries, begin by searching for patterns that make you feel miserable. Then, make personal rules that empower you to avoid repeating those patterns. Write your boundaries down and stick to them. Share your personal boundaries – boundaries that you set for your own behavior – with those who can help hold you accountable to them. For interpersonal boundaries – boundaries that you set for what you will not tolerate in others, share them with those who need to be aware of them. Make sure there are consequences if others cross your boundaries. Boundaries that do not include an actionable consequence, such as time away or emotional and physical distance, are not viable boundaries.

While boundaries may shift as we grow and change, do not change your boundaries to accommodate a specific person or situation. Finding, setting, and enforcing boundaries takes practice, however, it will be an extremely rewarding process. I continue to learn how to find and set new boundaries as well as go back and assess my existing boundaries. Sometimes it is a struggle, but a struggle well worth the effort.

As a survivor, sex for me used to be about satisfying others, leaving my body, and doing things that I wasn’t excited about. Then one day I realized that I had never had sober sex. Alcohol and sex worked well to numb me so I could perform sex. I set a boundary for myself to only have sober sex and with sober people. This boundary ended up creating a ripple effect of me having to understand my relationship to alcohol and sex.

3. Consent

Exploring what consent looks like and actually feels like should be front and center in the discussion on sex and trauma. A helpful tool for survivors is thinking about how our relationship with consent has shifted over time, especially before and after sexual trauma. What was consent like in the past? How would you express consent today? How would changing your mind in the middle of a consented act play out?

I will never forget the first time I consented to a sexual interaction and then recanted: confidence and power showered over me. I had negotiated a scene with someone and in that negotiation, I set my boundaries. One of these boundaries was not touching a particular part of my body. In the middle of the scene, they touched that part of my body. I instantly felt uncomfortable. I could feel myself shrinking. I felt my throat beginning to close and my body getting stiff. All of this happened within seconds, but it felt like time had stopped. I was filled with a scared inner voice telling me to be quiet, that this wasn’t a big deal, to just wait till it was over. Then, I allowed another voice in. The voice I had worked so hard to uncover. I said to the partner, “Wait, I need to stop. My boundary was crossed.”

Whether we are seen as broken, fragile, oversexed, or unlucky, as humans we yearn for connection. When our ability to connect with others is altered, we need to begin the process of finding what we want and asking for it. Sometimes it may be challenging to be unafraid, honest, and open about our sexuality. Power was taken from us, but we must work to harness that power back. The good news is we get to decide what desire is; we get to re-imagine intimacy; we get to construct our own relationship structures. Our journeys take us to places we will love, and places we never want to return to, but the choice is ours. We are in control.