There is a quiet, painful moment that happens in many long-term relationships—one that we rarely speak about because it carries so much shame.
It happens when a partner reaches out to initiate intimacy. They offer a touch or a look that signals desire, and instead of softening into it, your body does the opposite. You flinch. You freeze. You feel an automatic, visceral impulse to pull away.
Our minds read these reactions in real time and define them as a sense of disgust and revulsion.
In the aftermath, your partner is often left with the sting of rejection, and you are left with a heavy narrative: "I must not love them anymore. My relationship is failing. Something is wrong with me."
But I want to offer you a different perspective.
That physical recoil is rarely about a lack of love for your partner. It is almost always a sign that you do not currently feel safe inside your own skin.
When we are operating at capacity—carrying the heavy weights of burnout, overwhelm, or deep-seated feelings of unworthiness—our nervous system stays on high alert. We are in survival mode. In this state, a request for intimacy does not feel like a gift; it feels like a demand. It feels like one more thing being asked of a body that is already giving too much.
Your body isn't trying to hurt your partner. It is trying to protect you. It is saying, "I cannot be open right now; I need to defend my borders."
The Path Back to Connection
The beautiful truth is that this response is not a life sentence, and it does not mean your relationship is doomed. It is simply a signal. It is a loud, clear message from your body asking for restoration.
Healing this dynamic doesn't start with forcing yourself to be intimate when you don't want to be. It starts with embodiment.
We begin by restoring safety within your own nervous system. We tend to the parts of you that feel overwhelmed or unworthy. We practice holding space for your sensations and your boundaries, so that your body learns it doesn't have to fight to be safe.
When you feel truly at home and safe in your own body, the walls naturally begin to lower. The recoil softens. And slowly, touch stops feeling like a demand and starts feeling like the nourishment it was meant to be.
You are not broken. Your capacity for deep, pleasurable connection is still there—it is just waiting for you to feel safe enough to let it bloom.
Kate Voices of Embodiment
