When I moved to East Bay from New York in 2022, I remember the fragrant smell of the trees outside my apartment the night I flew in from JFK. I remember the delicate florals softening my body and anxious mind after it all sank in; I was hundreds of miles away from my family and I was all alone in Oakland.
I think leaning into my sensual side, the parts of me that knew pleasure and joy, saved me. I went on online dating apps like any single person who desired connection would and hoped to meet some cool people in the Bay. I desired touch and connection, and so I availed myself of any dating opportunities I could find. Eventually, I fell into a number of situationships that left me starved and depleted.
I think for a long time, I often confused love with pleasure. If someone desired me physically, I somehow made myself believe we could be in a loving partnership. I didn’t allow myself to enjoy being in the present moment without thinking of some imagined future.
Most of those beliefs were rooted in childhood programming. Bollywood. Immigrant conditioning. Survival mindset. You name it.
You’re supposed to be partnered.
Your joy deepens when you’re married and you’ve found the right person.
Sex and love go hand in hand.
I grew up witnessing my older siblings get punished for dating/having boyfriends. There was something inherently bad about the world of dating, sex, and relationships and I took that messaging with me…turning into a series of unrealistic expectations.
On top of that, I was deeply ashamed of my sensual parts. I’ve had my sexual renaissance and dated a lot of men, I’ve felt satisfaction. But with that satisfaction, I’ve often felt grief. A part of me just wanted to enjoy a casual hookup because it was fun and noncommittal but I couldn’t stop believing that everything needed to have some tangible outcome.
What if you could just enjoy something because it’s delicious, without needing there to be an outcome? - my close friend Matt often asked me this question when I’d vent about my dating journey
Was it control? Was it fear? Was it shame? I wasn’t sure and I’d often pathologize the situation, blaming it on my fear of intimacy from growing up in a strict home, from seeing love equate with some kind of violence. I subconsciously chose men who could replay all of those childhood fears for me.
Pleasure is pain.
And you know, it wasn’t just about romantic partnerships. It seeped into friendships, into work-related situations, into my family dynamics as an adult. I needed to have some kind of conflict or struggle to make things worth fighting for.
What I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to live in that dynamic anymore. Because I was actively participating in my own demise. I hurt others and others hurt me. It was a cycle I didn’t know how to stop. I somehow subconsciously needed the drama, the nervous system activation I was all too familiar with in my girlhood.
Shortly before my decision to move to the West Coast, a tarot card reader told me I’d find love in the Bay.
But you will also have a truly difficult journey. I won’t lie, it will be hard and painful. But then you’ll be okay. You’ll find your way back to your heart. - he shared
I’ve been working on loving myself since my twenties. I gave my heart away more times that I could count, and would return bruised and torn. Then I’d spend long periods of time alone, feeling strengthened by own company when I secretly desired companionship. I grew fiercely independent because that’s what strong women do, they count on themselves for joy and abundance. But my idea of feminism was flawed because being independent didn’t mean I couldn’t learn how to be with others, how to form deep bonds and be in community. I just felt so deeply alone, so deeply misunderstood for being different, that I focused entirely on myself and my own little world.
I moved to the Bay at 37, defeated from a long journey of broken hearts in NYC. And I met men who let me escape into their worlds so I didn’t have to think about mine. Even in their company, I felt deeply alone. Even after the kissing, the dinners, the hikes, the lovemaking…I felt horribly alone. The pattern continued and I’d ask for more. More time, more words of affection, more and more.
What if you found sensuality within yourself, Jenn? What if you could look deeply into your own eyes and wore red lipstick for you?
I continued the practice of deep inner child work and felt supported by a community of dear friends, therapists and healers. I gave myself permission to cry and grieve and rage. I allowed myself to sit with my discomfort when things didn’t go my way, when I felt a loss of control and did things I wasn’t proud of. I gave myself gentleness and compassion and turned to activities that brought me joy.
Gardens, art, music, writing, climbing, my coaching practice, collaborating with creatives, solo walks to cafes. I even created a persona named Rosa, a part of me who was carefree and flirty and sensual and lovely, and spoke to her. She was my Guide, my inner Wise Self who gave me permission to live without apologies.
Rather than close my heart, I turned to my heart center for guidance.
Wisdom led me to create a list of qualities I wanted in a partner, knowing that it was okay if they didn’t meet all the criteria as long as the core values were met.
I remember coming across Carla Morrison’s song Disfruto and feeling so deeply connected to the lyrics.
I enjoy.
Two simple words that took me years to deeply understand. What if I could just enjoy sex because it feels good, because my body enjoys it? What if endings were okay, too? And what if I was discerning about the people I chose to love? What if I let myself let someone enjoy me for simply being me? The last one was the hardest for me…just as hard as unrequited love. I truly didn’t believe someone could love me enough to stay, so I ran.
When my fiance courted me in the early days of our dating journey, I was cautious. I didn’t trust his intentions because I was confused and hurt by so many others. But he stayed, and waited. And waited. He was not the chaotic kind of love I was accustomed to. And I didn’t rush into it either…I was busy leaning into my own self, finding love in my joys, rediscovering and discovering new parts I appreciated about me without the need for external validation.
Pleasure is giving and receiving.
He loved me for who I was, for the things that brought me joy - my work, my values, my intensity, my softness. And it felt easy, our journey together felt easy. Pleasure is supposed to feel easy.
What if my story around love didn’t have to be about running and chasing, but one that was grounding, full of fecundity and expansion? What if I fully accepted that I was a romantic who sought a long term partnership, a home in a family? Meeting and being with Chay was like being home.
Pleasure is riding the waves of change
I went from being single to being a mom within a year, and nothing prepared for these deep changes. And yet everything prepared me for pregnancy, for growing a human, for navigating a new partnership in a new city, all while shifting identities. I understood the discomfort of change over the years and the ways I needed to resource myself to sit with it, to flow with it.
In this story, the disfruto was less about enjoying the deliciousness of doing things I loved. It was about learning how to navigate change during such a short timeline. It was jarring and terrifying, not knowing how we could financially support this new life. I wasn’t employed and between deep physical changes and emotional distress, I couldn’t focus on my coaching work or even apply to jobs. I felt stuck, except this time I wasn’t alone. I couldn’t run if I wanted to.
I was in this with my partner, and our needs were no longer the priority. Our baby and her health and well being was.
The disfruto was slowing down for once in my life, noticing all the deep changes my body was going through and giving myself space to rest, to prepare for her arrival, to learn about birth plans, and to learn to love and be kind in our partnership. I leaned on community hard in this journey, asking questions, asking for help, and advocating for my needs.
The thing with slowing down is that you have no choice but to face your ego, face your fears, face all the ugly stuff you want to run away from. But the only way out is through.
Pleasure is tuning into practices to get healthier, physically and emotionally. Learning to floss regularly, learning to stretch my hips after experiencing growing pains from holding baby in my womb, learning look at my partner in the eyes and build trust through speaking the truth, learning to face my inner child who is also trying to heal.
And then there’s community. While the journey of motherhood can be lonely, it requires one to lean on others hard. From my doula, to our friends, to my mother and my prenatal yoga teacher and guide, we learned to ask for help and receive with open hands.
Pleasure is letting go.
Much of this journey requires a great deal of surrender. If you hold on to something too tight - a thought, a belief, an idea, a way of being - you’re telling yourself that your happiness is conditional. As long as things go your way, you’ll be okay.
I spent months researching and speaking to experts in preparation for my labor. I had a plan, and yet I didn’t think to read the chapter on C sections. It wasn’t a part of my plan, and I didn’t think I would need one.
My labor journey, like the journeys of many other birthing parents, required me to surrender to the pain, the uncertainty, and the sudden change in plans. An emergency C section following 40+ hours of being in labor. What followed was a long stay in the hospital, a long road to recovery, and questions. How could this happen? Why did this happen to me? Where do I go from here?
The healing body, however, didn’t care about the questions. Our beautiful, healthy baby didn’t either. What happened was hard. What happened needed to happen so I could remind myself that I lived it, and I survived it. I have resources and support to heal and nourish that parts of me that needed to be held.
Motherhood … like pregnancy, like finding love, like relocating cities, like self forgiveness and self compassion … is a vehicle for surrender.
We have to let go of the need to control and let life happen to us, through us. And that’s the ultimate form of pleasure.
Letting go of the need for validation and being comfortable in my own skin as I speak about the liberation of BIPOC women and nonbinary people of color at an event.
Letting go of the need to be perfect so I can fully offer my greatest divine feminine gifts to my baby daughter
Letting go of old truths, that I am not worthy or capable of having a healthy, grounded, loving partnership…so I can fully be present for my Chay and for the life we are beautifully building together
Letting go of needing others to act or be a certain way so I can fully appreciate the humanity of strangers, loved ones, colleagues…and in doing so, appreciate myself, my whole self.
Disfruto
For you, my sun girl, Surya