“Ask Kai: Advice for the Apocalypse” is a column by Kai Cheng Thom to help you survive and thrive in a challenging world. Have a question? Email askkai@xtramagazine.com.
Hi Kai,
I’m a survivor, but it’s a label I have only recently come to accept. I was coerced into a relationship with a man much older than me when I was 21 (I’m 25 now). He threatened to kill himself if I ever left, and I spent a year of my life isolated, afraid and controlled by him.
My question is this: How can I begin to feel comfortable around new people and start dating again?
Part of me cannot imagine feeling comfortable with anyone sexually or emotionally ever again, but I also feel that it could be an important step if I ever want to move on. It was only a few months ago when I told my first friend the truth about that year. I am still steeped in denial and shame. I get triggered extremely easily by the slightest touch if I don’t fully consent first. And sometimes even then, I’m worried it’s a fawn survival response.
Kai, what hope do I have? I haven’t dated much, and I am scared that this year of my life will affect my ability to be intimate forever. Is there anything I can do to start moving forward without triggering myself? How can I even begin to explain this to future partners?
Forever Fearful
Dear Forever,
I hope you know how brave you are. It takes profound resilience to get through the kind of relationship you describe, and that same resilience shines through in your curiosity about exploring sexuality and romance. I am so glad that you are no longer in that coercive relationship and that you are open to the possibility of intimacy in which you feel safe and respected—because that’s what you deserve.
You may already know this, Forever, but it’s worth saying that what happened to you was not your fault. You should never have been made to feel that you were responsible for your partner’s choices about suicide. As writer, therapist and suicide intervention educator Carly Boyce writes in their zine Suicide Intervention (For Freaks, Weirdos, and Queers), it’s not your job to keep someone else alive. You always have the right to leave a relationship, and it is not acceptable for any partner to use their safety as a way to control you.
In that vein, reaffirming your rights and boundaries in relationships might be an important part of re-engaging with dating and sex. In your letter, you say that connecting with someone sexually or emotionally could be an important step in moving on. Yet you don’t mention whether romance or sex with another person is something that you actually desire.
What do you feel in your body when you think about sex and dating? Is there excitement, longing and pleasure in that idea? I ask because giving yourself permission to not do something that triggers you can be an essential part of moving through trauma. In working toward recovery from coercive relationships, it can be easy to think that we “should” get back into dating because it’s the “normal” thing to do. But what does your body really want?
Paradoxically, giving ourselves permission to not be sexual or romantic can often help us rediscover our desire for intimacy. In the field of somatic sex education (of which I am a part), we often use the phrase “your ‘no’ is as sexy as your ‘yes.’” In this way, we honour the deep intelligence of the body’s instinctive responses to potentially intimate situations.
You mention, Forever, that you can get triggered by the slightest touch if you don’t fully consent. What if you looked at this powerful protective reaction not as a hindrance, but as a map to what your body, mind and spirit need in order to re-establish intimate connection? What if your body was trying to tell you what you need in order to heal?
Starting to explore your body’s wisdom might look like practising consent with yourself through mindful masturbation, or mindful erotic practice as a tool for self-healing and pleasure. Essentially, mindful erotic practice is the practice of intentional self-touch for the purpose of cultivating a deeper connection with one’s erotic self.
Mindful erotic practice can be done with clothes on or off, with toys or without, with any kind of touch you like. Orgasm is not the goal. Instead, you might try feeling deeply into what full consent feels like within your body. Is it possible to ask yourself for consent? What happens when you slow down enough to feel all your body’s sensations and desires, including any that might seem to contradict another? What happens when you tell yourself, “Every part of me is welcome here”?
Some of this work can be done in concert with a psychotherapist or counsellor who specializes in sex therapy. Unfortunately, the majority of licensed mental health professionals have little or no training in this area—it’s not a standardized part of the curriculum in most professional schools, and sex therapy specialists usually have to seek additional post-graduate training. So it pays to look into a practitioner’s specific educational background. A licensed psychotherapist may be especially helpful in working through the denial and shame you mention in your letter—the emotional residue of the coercive relationship you were in.
In terms of working with instinctive aversion to physical touch, engaging the services of a somatic sex educator, sexological bodyworker or sexual surrogate may also be helpful. Unlike psychotherapists, these types of professionals are specifically trained in the of use erotic touch (and in the case of sexual surrogates, fully interactive sexual intercourse) as a therapeutic modality. Many also follow an association’s code of ethics and are willing to work in conjunction with a sex therapist to provide a high standard of care.
The advantage of working with a touch-based sex professional is that you have the opportunity to practice engaging with someone physically in real life, rather just talking about it. The professional creates a safe and nurturing environment, while also providing guidance and suggestions on how to access embodied consent and pleasure. For example, a somatic sex educator might explore consent with a client by playing the “three-minute game,” a very gentle exercise that allows the participants to practice setting boundaries and asking for what they really want.
Regardless of the path you choose to take on your journey, Forever, I would encourage moving in the spirit of working with, rather than against, the survival responses that you feel arising within you. Your instincts and triggered reactions are powerful and precious; they are trying hard to save your life, even when you disagree with their methods. If you listen to them with curiosity and compassion, they might just tell you what you need to do to take a step forward in your healing.
When it comes to explaining your needs to future partners, it’s totally okay to express a need to move at a comfortable pace and to ask for full consent. Indeed, I would love to live in a world where this is the norm! You aren’t obligated to share any details that you don’t want to. You could simply say something like, “I’d really like to get to know you better, and I’m also someone who really needs to practice full consent in a sexual relationship. Here’s what that looks like for me….” (You may want to do some journaling about what full consent looks like for you so you can describe it easily.)
And if you want to give a bit more context without going too deep, you could say, “I’d love to explore this relationship more, but I need to takes things slowly and communicate really well about sex because I’ve had some bad experiences in the past.”
If a potential partner tries to push your boundaries, then this is a sign that they are probably not the kind of person you are looking for. I have a lot of hope, Forever, that consent culture is growing in various communities, and I truly believe that there are many people out there who are not only willing, but actively want to engage in deeply consensual relationships.
When one has survived coercion and trauma, it is natural to feel that one’s wounds will remain debilitating for life. Yet, with a little luck, life is long, and in my humble experience, recovery and growth are indeed possible. Cultivating intimacy and pleasure is a skill that can be practiced and strengthened, in the same way a limb can be strengthened via physical therapy after an injury. Let yourself hope, Forever—you have already proven that you have the strength and resilience you need. Hope is asking the question, “I wonder what’s possible?” It’s the first step toward healing, and the first part of the answer.
Kai Cheng Thom is no longer a registered or practicing mental health professional. The opinions expressed in this column are not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. All content in this column, including, but not limited to, all text, graphics, videos and images, is for general information purposes only. This column, its author, Xtra (including its parent and affiliated companies, as well as their directors, officers, employees, successors and assigns) and any guest authors are not responsible for the accuracy of the information contained in this column or the outcome of following any information provided directly or indirectly from it.
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