The Hidden Grief of the Sexually Numbed Man
I’ve sat across from so many men—brilliant, kind, emotionally intelligent men—who tell me, “I don’t feel anything anymore.”
They’re not broken.
They’re not damaged.
But they’re carrying a grief so quiet, so buried, that most of them don’t even have words for it.
It’s the grief of being sexually numbed.
Maybe You Know That Feeling
Maybe your sex drive is on life support.
Maybe touch feels awkward or even repulsive.
Maybe your body doesn’t respond like it used to—or like you think it “should.”
Maybe you haven’t felt truly desired, or safe to want, in a long time.
Maybe your turn-on only lives inside a screen or a fantasy.
And maybe—just maybe—you’ve quietly accepted this numbness as “normal.”
But What If It’s Not?
What if this sexual shutdown isn’t just a phase or a sign of age?
What if it’s the residue of something deeper—something you never got to fully feel?
The truth is, many men are walking around carrying unacknowledged grief around their sexuality.
Grief from being shamed.
Grief from being touched too little—or too invasively.
Grief from equating sex with performance, conquest, or obligation.
Grief from having no space to feel, to soften, to be curious.
This grief doesn’t always show up as tears.
It shows up as numbness.
Avoidance.
A sense of distance from your own body.
A quiet ache that something’s missing, but you’re not sure what—or how to get it back.
Let Me Be Clear: You’re Not Alone
This isn’t just your story.
It’s our story.
It’s the story of so many men who were never taught that their sexuality is sacred, tender, theirs.
Who learned early on that wanting is dangerous.
That softness is weakness.
That arousal means you owe someone something.
Or that desire must be hidden, distorted, or dulled to be safe.
So we cut off.
We disassociate.
We survive by shutting down what once felt bright and alive.
But the beautiful thing about the body?
It remembers.
And it wants to come back online.
The Way Back Is Through
Reclaiming your sexuality isn't about forcing your libido to fire up again.
It’s not about becoming a “stallion in the sheets.”
It’s about grieving what you lost… and slowly making room for what’s still possible.
In the spaces I hold—with deep presence, consent, and zero pressure—men begin to thaw.
Sometimes for the first time in years.
They start to feel something.
Maybe a spark of arousal.
Maybe a pang of sorrow.
Maybe a sense of homecoming they forgot was even possible.
We move gently.
With curiosity.
With reverence.
Because waking up your erotic self is a sacred act.
And it’s never too late.
If You’re Feeling Numb, I Invite You to Listen Inward
Ask yourself:
What am I afraid I might feel if I slow down and really listen to my body?
What messages about sex or desire have shaped my relationship to pleasure?
What part of me is longing to be seen, touched, or awakened again?
You don’t need to have the answers.
You just need to be willing to ask.
Let’s Explore This Together
If this speaks to something in you—if you feel the grief, the numbness, or just a quiet curiosity—I want you to know that support is here.
This is the work I do. This is why I do it.
You’re not meant to navigate your erotic healing alone.
You deserve safety. You deserve softness. You deserve turn-on and tenderness—on your terms.
If you’re ready to begin or just want to talk about what’s showing up for you, let’s connect.
Book a free, no-pressure conversation with me at trevorjamesla.com, or schedule here.
Your body remembers.
Your desire still lives.
And your healing is possible.
