In my work, I meet many people with sexual trauma who are trying to find their way back to intimacy and sexual connection.
When traumatic experiences remain unspoken for a long time—especially when they occurred in early childhood—they can leave deep imprints. Often, people don’t even remember exactly what happened. They just feel that something isn’t right.
In my practice, I frequently hear phrases like: “It feels like something inside me is broken.” Sometimes this shows up physically, for example when an orgasm feels difficult or impossible. Sometimes it appears emotionally: a sense of distance, shutdown, or confusion in connection with others.
What I often see is how early in life we develop strategies to protect ourselves. Parts of ourselves that make sure we won’t be hurt again. These protective parts have often worked incredibly hard for many years to keep us safe.
So much so, that over time people begin to fully identify with them.
A tension I often encounter in my work is the inner conflict between different parts of ourselves. Clients sometimes describe it very vividly: “It feels like the seven-year-old is still inside me, even though I’m now a thirty-five-year-old woman.”
That thirty-five-year-old woman feels desire. Curiosity. A longing for connection and intimacy.
But somewhere in her body, that younger part is still alive—perhaps wanting to scream, freeze, run away, or shut down.
For many people, this is confusing. And painful.
The question then becomes: how do we create safety again? How can the body experience that closeness is possible without becoming overwhelmed?
Going slowly is essential in this process. The nervous system needs time to feel that it is safe to relax and to allow new experiences in. Time is gold for the nervous system.
In working with embodied practices, my presence itself becomes an important instrument. It requires fine attunement—to myself, to the other person, and to what is emerging between us. Not only listening to words, but also to what the body communicates: the rhythm of the breath, subtle changes in muscle tension, micro-movements, or the quality of someone’s gaze.
As trauma researcher Bessel van der Kolk says: “The body keeps the score.”
Our experiences are not only stored as stories, but also as bodily memories.
The process that unfolds often resembles a dance between different inner forces: protection and desire, tension and relaxation, fear and curiosity.
What I see people discover again and again is that the thirty-five-year-old does not have to push the seven-year-old away in order to feel intimacy again.
On the contrary.
When the adult parts within us learn to listen to what the body needs—with gentleness, respect, and at the right pace—the younger part can slowly begin to experience that it is no longer alone.
And that is where space begins to open.
Space for touch.
For curiosity.
For sensuality.
Not because we force anything, but because the body is allowed to gradually rediscover that closeness can also be safe.
A gentle dance, in which protection and desire slowly learn to exist side by side.
Integration: Where Understanding Becomes Transformation
In sessions, we begin an important process. Together, we create a space where experiences can be explored safely—where both the mind can begin to understand and the body can start to feel what has long been held beneath the surface. These moments are often profound. They bring insight, awareness, and sometimes a first sense of relief or opening.
And yet, a session is only the beginning.
Because real transformation does not happen in the hour we spend together—it unfolds in the quiet, ordinary moments of daily life.
It is there, in the small interactions, the unexpected triggers, the subtle waves in your body, that the deeper work continues. Life has a way of presenting us—again and again—with opportunities to meet the parts of ourselves that are still asking for attention, care, and integration. Not as punishment, but as invitation.
Until something is truly seen, felt, and integrated, it will keep returning.
Every day offers a new chance to respond differently.
A new chance to choose presence over protection.
A new chance to gently rewire what once had to be automatic.
When we experience trauma—especially early in life—the nervous system adapts in order to survive. The brain learns to prioritize safety over connection. It becomes highly attuned to potential danger, even in situations that are no longer threatening.
This means that what you feel in the present moment is not always a reflection of what is happening now, but often an echo of what once was.
The body reacts quickly—before the thinking mind has time to catch up. Old survival strategies such as freezing, shutting down, pleasing, or withdrawing can activate in an instant. Not because something is wrong with you, but because something in you once learned that this was the safest way to cope.
These patterns are intelligent. They protected you.
But what once ensured your survival may now limit your ability to feel safe, open, and connected.
This is where integration becomes essential.
Integration is the process through which new experiences are introduced into the nervous system—slowly, safely, and repeatedly—so that the body can begin to recognize that the present is different from the past. Through consistent, gentle practice, the brain starts to form new neural pathways. It learns that there are other options available now. That closeness does not always mean danger. That sensation does not have to lead to overwhelm. That you can stay present, even when something inside you is activated.
This is what we call rewiring.
Not by forcing change, but by creating new lived experiences—again and again—until they become familiar.
Through this integration work, something begins to shift.
You are no longer only reacting from old patterns.
You begin to notice. To pause. To choose.
And over time, these small moments of awareness become embodied change.
This is how the path unfolds—
not in one breakthrough, but in many small, consistent steps.
The exercises I am offering to you in the MUSELETTERS are deeply inspired by the work I do in my one-on-one sessions with clients. They arise from real encounters, real stories, and the nuanced, embodied processes I witness. Each practice carries the essence of that work—adapted so it can meet you wherever you are right now.
I am aware that not everyone has the opportunity or privilege to work with me individually. And it is important to me that the themes I hold in my practice—around safety, embodiment, intimacy, and inner integration—are not limited to the therapy room, but can reach a wider community.
It is my hope that these practices offer you guidance, insight, and gentle support on your own path. Take what resonates, move at your own pace, and trust that even the smallest steps matter.
May this work meet you exactly where you are.
And remember—you are always welcome to reach out.
Daily and Weekly Integration Practice
The intention of this structure is not discipline or perfection, but continuity. Small, consistent moments of awareness and contact with yourself are far more powerful than occasional deep dives. This work becomes transformative through repetition, not intensity.
Think of this as a rhythm you return to, rather than a checklist you need to complete.
Daily Practice (10–25 minutes total)
Morning (5–10 minutes) — Orientation and Intention
Begin the day by arriving in your body before entering the outside world.
Sit or stand quietly.
Place one hand on your body (heart, belly, or anywhere that feels supportive).
Notice your breath without changing it.
Ask yourself:
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How do I feel this morning?
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Is there a part of me that needs attention?
Set a simple intention:
“Today, I will stay connected to myself in moments of activation.”
or
“Today, I will move at a pace that feels safe.”
This anchors the adult self at the start of the day.
Midday (2–5 minutes) — Check-in and Regulation
Pause at some point during the day.
Look around and orient to your environment.
Notice 3 things you see, 2 things you hear.
Then check inside:
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What is present in me right now?
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Is this feeling familiar?
If something is activated, name it:
“A younger part of me is here.”
“A protector is trying to help.”
Place a hand on your body and take a few slow breaths.
You are not trying to fix anything—only to stay in relationship with yourself.
Even this small interruption begins to rewire patterns.
Evening (10–15 minutes) — Integration and Expression
Choose one of the following, depending on your energy:
Option 1: Journaling
Write briefly about one moment of the day where you felt activated or disconnected.
Reflect:
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What did I feel?
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Which part of me was present?
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What did I need in that moment?
Then respond as your adult self:
“I see you. I am here now.”
Option 2: Voice Dialogue (short version)
Let one part speak for a few minutes (child or protector), then respond from the adult.
Option 3: Embodied practice
Place your attention on your body and gently move, stretch, or breathe into areas of tension.
Let your body complete small stress cycles (shaking, sighing, soft movement).
Close with:
“I stayed with myself today.”
Weekly Practice (1–2 longer moments, 30–60 minutes)
Choose one or two moments per week to go a little deeper.
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Extended Voice Dialogue
Create space to fully explore the 7-year-old, the protector, and the adult.
Let each part speak more fully.
Take your time integrating afterward. -
Deep Journaling
Write a longer dialogue between parts.
Explore recurring patterns:
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When do I get triggered most?
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What is my protector afraid would happen?
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What does my younger part long for?
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Embodied Expansion (Wild Woman Practice)
Create a private space where you can move freely.
Explore:
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Taking up space
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Using your voice
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Moving slowly or powerfully
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Feeling your feet on the ground
Let this not be about performance, but about reclaiming presence in your body.
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Reflection and Tracking
At the end of the week, reflect gently:
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Where did I respond differently this week?
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When did I stay present instead of shutting down?
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What am I beginning to notice?
This builds awareness of change, which is often subtle.
Important Principles to Return To
Go slowly. The nervous system changes through safety, not force.
Less is more. A few minutes of real presence is enough.
Repetition matters. This is how new neural pathways are formed.
All parts are welcome. Nothing in you needs to be pushed away.
If something feels overwhelming, return to simple grounding:
feel your feet, look around, breathe, pause.
Over time, this structure helps shift the inner dynamic.
You begin to recognize activation earlier.
You create space between feeling and reaction.
You strengthen the adult self as a steady presence.
And gradually, the body learns something new:
That it is possible to feel, stay, and remain safe at the same time.
