WHEN DESIRE IS SAFE: REWRITING THE NERVOUS SYSTEM AFTER TRAUMA

There’s a moment—quiet, almost unnoticeable—when you realise you’re not bracing anymore. Not shrinking at the thought of touch. Not apologising for your body. Not flinching when someone calls you beautiful and actually means it.

That moment? That’s the beginning. That’s when the body starts to whisper: maybe we’re safe now.

I grew up with hands that didn’t listen. With men who didn’t take no as an answer. With silence after being hurt, and shame so thick I carried it like a second skin.

I was taught—without words—that desire was dangerous. That my body was not mine. That love always came with bruises, conditions, or the need to explain yourself.

So I learned to hide inside myself. To smile while scanning for exits. To flirt so no one could tell how scared I was.

When your earliest lessons are abuse, your nervous system doesn’t forget. It confuses chaos for connection. It craves the familiar sting of pain dressed up as passion.

But healing taught me a new rhythm. A new kind of intimacy.

It began with someone who didn’t push. Who asked. Who waited.

Someone who didn’t want to conquer me—but meet me.

And my body… didn’t run.

It trembled. It softened. It began to stay.

Rewriting the nervous system is not a one-time ceremony. It’s a thousand tiny moments: a slow exhale, a hand on your back, a yes that feels like yours.

It’s learning that pleasure is not proof of danger. That slowness is not a trap. That you don’t have to survive desire—you can enjoy it.

And when desire is safe, love stops burning. It warms. It wraps around you like a soft, steady yes.

You don’t have to beg to be held. You don’t have to perform to be wanted.

You just have to breathe. Stay. And let yourself be known.

Because this body—my body—is no longer a battlefield. It is a home.

And I’m finally allowed to live in it.

xx Josi