Why Pleasure Can Feel Wrong After Childhood Sexual Abuse
For many survivors of childhood sexual abuse, pleasure, especially sexual pleasure, can feel confusing, uncomfortable, or even wrong. You may be in a loving relationship with someone you trust, yet still find it hard to fully enjoy intimacy. You might feel disconnected from your body or wonder why something that is supposed to feel good doesn’t always land that way for you.
This can be a painful and isolating experience, but you’re not alone, and more importantly, you’re not broken.
When the Body Responds, but the Heart Feels Unsafe
For some survivors, the aftermath of CSA results in hyper-sexuality, or risky behaviour, but for others, like me, the response was quite different.
My instinct was always to protect my body. I needed to feel respected and emotionally safe before even considering intimacy, but even when I reached that point with someone I trusted and cared for, there was still something missing.
Sex became something I just did, going through the motions without always craving it or feeling genuine desire. I found myself more focused on my partner’s pleasure—his orgasm often felt more important than mine. The physical sense of pleasure, in the full, vibrant way it’s meant to be experienced, wasn’t really part of my experience.
It’s not that I didn’t want to feel more, but that I just didn’t know how to access it.
The Confusion of Childhood: When “Good” Feels Wrong
Many survivors wrestle with shame because of how their body responded during abuse. What makes it worse is the confusion that starts in childhood.
Your body is designed to respond to touch, and even when the situation is abusive or unwanted, the nervous system can still generate arousal. That doesn’t mean the abuse was okay. It simply means your body was working as nature intended, not as a measure of consent.
But as children, we don’t understand this. What we begin to learn instead is that something “bad” is happening, yet our body is reacting in ways that are supposed to feel good, and this creates a split:
If this feels good, is it still bad?
If I let it happen, did I want it?
Did I enjoy it? Does that make it my fault?
That’s where shame often begins, not just “what happened to me was wrong,” but “I must be wrong.” Over time, this can turn into deep feelings of guilt, confusion, and self-blame.
From “This Is Bad” to “I Am Bad”
One of the cruelest outcomes of childhood sexual abuse is when you begin to internalize the abuse as part of your identity.
The transition from this is bad to I am bad is subtle but powerful, and it often begins with the body’s natural reactions. If arousal occurred, the child may unconsciously believe they participated, or worse, enjoyed it. That perceived “complicity” becomes a source of lifelong shame.
This faulty narrative makes it incredibly hard to separate sex from guilt or pleasure from fear as an adult and that’s why so many survivors experience a deep ambivalence toward sex: they crave intimacy but can’t fully access the joy of it.
Why the Brain Disconnects Pleasure from Safety
One reason survivors struggle with sexual pleasure is dissociation—a coping mechanism where the mind detaches from the body during trauma. This often happens during abuse, especially if the child can’t physically escape. The brain’s job is to protect, so it learns to “check out.”
That protective pattern can persist into adulthood., and you may find yourself disconnecting during sex without realizing it, or you might avoid sex entirely because it feels unsafe or emotionally overwhelming. In trauma therapy, this is known as somatic disconnection—the separation between mind and body that allows you to function but also blocks you from feeling.
How This Shows Up in Adult Relationships
Even in safe, loving relationships, many survivors experience:
Numbness or lack of sensation during sex
Emotional shutdown or a sense of “going through the motions”
Guilt or shame after intimacy
Discomfort with receiving pleasure, even when wanted
Feeling like pleasure is undeserved or selfish
These responses aren’t a reflection of your partner or your relationship. They’re often rooted in early experiences that taught your body and brain that sex = danger or shame.
You’re Not Alone and You’re Not Broken
If this is your story, please hear this: your body isn’t broken. Your pleasure pathways weren’t erased, they were just buried under layers of protection.
That numbness you feel? It’s not failure. It’s survival.
It means your body did exactly what it needed to do to get through something unimaginable, and now, with time, safety, and support, you can begin to gently reconnect with your own pleasure on your own terms.
Steps Toward Healing and Reconnection
Here are some ways to begin reclaiming your relationship with your body and your pleasure:
1. Therapy with a Trauma-Specialized Practitioner
Find a therapist who understands the nuances of childhood sexual abuse and how it affects the nervous system. EMDR, somatic therapy, and internal family systems (IFS) can all be helpful.
2. Slow, Safe Exploration of Touch
This doesn’t have to be sexual. Start with what feels neutral or positive—like soft fabrics, warm baths, or gentle hugs. Let your body learn that touch can be comforting, not dangerous.
3. Inner Child Work
Revisit the younger version of you who was confused, scared, and blamed herself. Speak gently to her. Write letters to your inner child and remind her she didn’t do anything wrong.
4. Challenge Shame-Based Beliefs
Ask yourself: Where did I learn this?
Who taught me to feel guilty for something I didn’t choose?
Begin rewriting those inner narratives.
5. Redefine Pleasure on Your Terms
Let go of the idea that pleasure must look a certain way. For some, intimacy might begin with eye contact, laughter, or holding hands. It’s okay to define pleasure on your terms.
You Deserve Pleasure Without Shame
Healing isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about returning to the part of you that always deserved love, safety, and joy, even if she was told otherwise.
You deserve to feel good. You deserve to trust your body. You deserve to experience connection without fear or guilt, and if that hasn’t happened yet, it doesn’t mean it never will. It means your body is still healing. It means you’re still learning how to feel safe enough to fully receive.
And that’s okay. You’re not behind. You’re on your way.
