Connecting With Your Body After Religion

As someone who has been working with folks deconstructing their religion for almost three years now, there is a common theme I notice in my clients. Religious messaging has left a lot of adults feeling like their bodies aren’t inherently theirs and are underserving of pleasure. It’s so wild (even for myself) how often folks talk about logically knowing they are good and deserving of good things or how desirable and beautiful they find other people’s bodies—but still, when it comes to their own, that logic doesn’t truly sink in and compute. 

PSA: I grew up in conservative Christian communities, but I work with folks from various religious backgrounds. I believe that there are a lot of beautiful aspects of religion, but this is one that, in my line of work, I believe has some of the most harmful consequences. If you are still religious, I think it’s okay to simultaneously hold space for the hard and the good things. 

Most of the messaging around our bodies in the church is messaging of shame or denial. From childhood, we hear teachings of abstaining from sex & masturbation and how our bodies aren’t even for us but for a future, unknown partner predestined by God. And that any sexual feelings deserve to be denied, prayed away, and ignored (because these are the desires of the flesh and aren’t “holy”). Of course, this can affect our sex lives (we chat about that all the time!), but what I’ve noticed more recently is how it affects an overall connection and denial of our physical bodies.

When the language around our bodies from such a young age is that of shame and denial, it’s no wonder it’s so hard to develop a love for our bodies and a deep connection to our physical selves. It’s almost as if our bodies become something to “deal with” more than something to lean into, explore, and care for. In Christianity, there is a common rhetoric that the more someone suffers, the closer they are to God. That denying “earthly” pleasures will store your treasures in Heaven, and you will finally thrive after death. It’s wild that even after years of deconstructing, many folks find themselves stuck on this belief. So many people will be in flourishing relationships, have fulfilling sex lives, and still, to their core, believe that they do not deserve pleasure or should deny themselves more of it. It’s often fascinating, too, because so many people get to a place of partnered pleasure no longer bringing up shame. Still, solo pleasure (in any capacity, not just sexual) triggers shame regularly. For some, pleasure doesn’t bring up shame but more the thought process of “there are more important things I could be doing with my time than spending it with myself.”

With my clients, two recurring conversations around Christianity and sexuality keep resurfacing. Firstly, from the moment most children go through puberty in the church, people are talking to them about their bodies. They are repeatedly told to abstain from sex, and if they don’t, they are not only letting down God but also the one-and-only future spouse God has hand-picked for them. Secondly, they are often told that if they don’t abstain from sex, they are less than someone who does abstain. This is such a pivotal age to be enforcing such intense rhetoric. Before kids even learn sex education, about their changing bodies, or how to exist in romantic relationships, they are told that their bodies aren’t theirs and will only cause them trouble unless they continuously deny their earthly temptations until marriage. This language is so confusing as a child because you seemingly go from innocence to wrongdoing without knowing what is happening. It can feel like people are talking about your sexuality before you are even aware of your sexuality—and that is a challenging foundation to dig up in hindsight (hence why we are even having this lil chat). Most children go from their bodies being sources of joy, fun, play, and exploration to feeling like it is no longer their own and source of shame.

Generally speaking, the body is really only chatted about in a negative way, practical way, or not at all in religion. We’ve covered the negative conversations around the body (sexual shame, only teaching abstinence, etc.). The ways the body is referred to practically can be harmful, too—I remember when I started my period and was told not to mention it in front of boys because it could “make them uncomfortable.” There is room for a whole other article on that conversation *rolls eyes*. And lastly, the body is ignored in many ways. When folks are taught shame, practicality, or total denial regarding their physical body, they are frequently left feeling disconnected, overwhelmed with shame, and even resentful.

Resentment is one of the most common emotions I hear from clients who grew up religious. This is because the body feels more like something to “have to deal with” rather than something to connect with, explore, and nurture. Body denial is taught. We are not born hating our bodies. When we are children, we are free, adventurous, explorative, and curious—we play make-believe, ask questions, eat when we’re hungry, rest when we’re tired, and are relatively intuitive for how little we “know.” When we grow up, though, we start questioning all of this, and we begin denying our intuition, which causes us to deny ourselves. We slowly lose the desire to meet our own needs because they are “too much,” “wrong,” or simply because we had been previously taught that other things were more important.

Your body is worth getting to know (read that again and again and again and again). It’s so crucial for healing, growth, and connection (with yourself and others). 

Movement: Movement looks different for everyone depending on accessibility and capability. Movement can be an essential form of body connection because it takes us back to the basics of ~getting into our bodies~. For me, going to yoga classes has been truly pivotal in bringing me into my body. It feels unifying for my body to focus on breathing and gentle positions. Breath work has been one of the most magical and grounding tools in my own work. It’s amazing what a deep breath can do to help us feel more grounded and present. It’s always my goal to help YOU realize that this work takes place in the little moments and small practices with ourselves.

Spending time with my naked body: While this one might sound a little silly initially, it can be the most helpful (but the most easily denied). I think it’s safe to assume that the majority of us are only naked when we are showering, changing our clothes, or having sex. When I first started deconstructing my sexual shame, spending time looking at my nude body in the mirror, putting lotion on, or spending time after a shower naked was soooo helpful. I hadn’t really spent much time just looking at myself and existing with myself. This meant that all the thoughts about my body I was thinking while naked were generally quick, negative ones because I wasn’t taking the time to be present. I started spending time in front of the mirror, letting myself get the initial negative thoughts out of the way, and then, you know what happened?? I would start noticing things about my body that I loved and hadn’t spent time with before. Now, don’t get me wrong, this will be a life-long process, but it is one that I have found to be very sweet. No matter where we are in our healing, deconstruction, or body love journey, allowing ourselves to be present with our natural bodies is so necessary.

Body Scan: What’s a body scan, you may be wondering? This is one that, for me, has helped so. much. When I body scan, I start at my head and work all the way down to my toes, complimenting or acknowledging each body part on the way down. This one is important because it helps keep me present and highlights little parts of myself that I might not usually focus on. It’s also important because even if I don’t fuuuully believe my little compliments (yet!), I am rewriting the language I use when talking to my body. Throughout this (possible) endometriosis pain, I keep reminding myself that, even when it doesn’t feel like it, my body is on my team. Pain, as hard and awful as it is, is my body communicating that something is wrong. She’s talking to me, and I no longer want my general response to be to shame her <3

Connecting with your body is YOUR journey, and it can often feel like journeying through the rockiest terrain. There’s obviously plenty to unpack here (don’t worry, we’ll continue unpacking together!), but knowing we all aren’t alone on this journey is a comforting first step. If you take anything from today’s chat, I hope you leave remembering these two things:

• Body shame is taught—it can be so hard and even natural to shame ourselves for shaming ourselves. A vicious cycle! Try to remind yourself that the shame isn’t your fault <3
• Your body is worth getting to know (say it to yourself again and again and again).

With love,

Jennah