You Are Not the Only One

Originally published on my Substack: Sex & Somatics with Mandy Rose, where I explore the sweet spot between language, sensation and soul.

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So, there's something that I wish every one of my clients could know. And that is this:

That thing that you're hiding, that memory that you're ashamed of, that voice in your head that tells you you're broken, that you haven't even spoken out aloud about:

that's not just yours.

Now, in the last few years, I have had hundreds of discovery calls.

Different people.
Different bodies.
Different genders.
Different ages.
Hundreds of stories.

And yet beneath the surface and across all these stories it's heartbreakingly the same.

And I want to share what some of those common themes are across these people. Not to expose or put any further shame on but actually to liberate.

Because this is about naming what it is that so many of us carry in silence.

And this is where I want to let you know which I wish I could scream from the rooftops

to tell you that you are not alone in this.

And so I'm going to share a few archetypes now.
This is not any one particular person, these are composites of commonalities that I have come across in my time.

Archetype One: The Intellectual Who Hates His Body

Now this person he's smart. He's successful. He's a thinker.

He has been on this self journey self-improvement journey for a while.

He's read all the books.
He's done the therapy.
He's done a breathwork or maybe a weekend Tantra retreat.
He knows the theory.

And from the outside it looks like he's doing the work, right?

And yet…in the quiet of his body as we sit together on the couch there's something unsaid that lingers.

And in essence?
He hates his body.
Especially his dick.

There’s such a deep resentment and disgust that he has for his own body that he doesn't want to even touch himself.

He doesn't want to hear or even acknowledge that his body has a voice or a say.

It's like the rest of him can be intellectual and successful and yet his sexuality has been completely exiled.

To the point where the only time his dick works is when he's had a massive breakthrough and/or breakdown in his therapy sessions.

And so when I invite him into the somatics into connecting to his body, to his penis, with love. It’s not only that he can't.

It’s that the very idea that his body, his penis, should have a voice…is a betrayal.

And yet, when I ask him,
"Why are you even here?"
he answers,

"Because if I don’t do something, nothing will ever change."

And yet he still shows up.

And this is where the alchemy begins.

Archetype Two: Her Body Is in Pain

Every session, she apologizes for not being better.

She has been suffering chronic pain for years. Her nervous system is constantly in a state of high alert.
There is no space to feel relaxed, or touch let alone to experience arousal in a connective way.

And yet what she says out loud to me, and I imagine berates herself with in her own time, is:

“I should just get over this. I’m doing everything, and yet I’m still broken.Why is that?”

And the thing is,
no matter how gently I reflect and mirror and encourage and tell her that she’s not broken, but actually she’s exhausted…she’s taken that exhaustion as a failure.

And yet I’m here trying to share: Actually, your body is surviving.

But the thing is shame doesn’t care if your body’s on high alert and surviving.

Shame says:
“Try harder.
You’re not doing enough.
You’re never going to get it.”

And so, every time this voice comes up, I redirect our attention to begin small.

To come back to that breath. To sigh. To see if we can find a moment of softness.

And that is the real practice.
That is the real work.

Archetype Three: The Trauma-Broken Lover

So this one he comes in saying:
"If I can just get this right…
If I can just come back to my sexuality like it was  then I’ll finally be healed.
Then I’ll finally be whole."

Because the thing is for the past few years he’s lived in a war zone. A relational war zone.

Where there was presence of abuse.
Coercion.
Performance.
Deep codependency.

Where his sex became weaponized.
It became a transaction.
A place where he eventually just disappeared.

And now that he’s moved through the trauma now that he’s taken his space back and is trying, step by step, to reclaim his life. Even though his mind takes him forward step by step, his body is still tangled in that old story.

One foot in survival.
One foot in healing.

And the tension that that creates.

And yet, again that voice of shame whispers:

“You’ll never be safe.
You’ll never be free.
They’ll embarrass you.
And then you’ll be back here again.”

And yet… he showed up.

And that is such a sacred act.

And so here’s the thing I want to scream from the rooftops with every person that has the courage to share their vulnerability, to share the story of their sexuality:

I want to tell them, you are not the only one.

You are not the only one who doesn’t like how your body looks or feels.

You are not the only one whose mind and body freezes the moment intimacy is whispered at.

You are not the only one who still cries after sex.

You are not the only one who can’t feel anything.

You are not the only one who’s read everything and still feels lost.

You are not the only one.
You are not the only one.
You are not alone.

No matter what your shame says you are not alone.

And that’s why I’m sharing this today.

Because sometimes shame won’t loosen its grip until someone else names it first.

And if you’re here listening to this, reading this, breathing through it moment by moment you’re already doing the work.

And so, in this month’s paid post, I’ll be sharing a way that you can work somatically with shame.

Not to get rid of it.
Not to exile it.

But actually how to befriend it and integrate it as part of your system, and part of your pleasure story.

If that sounds like the medicine you need, come join me there.

You’re not alone anymore.

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