What If Pleasure Was Never the Problem?

A lot of us grew up being told that pleasure is dangerous—that it makes us weak, dirty, sinful, or indulgent. That too much pleasure—or the wrong kind—will ruin us. I used to think the guilt I felt around pleasure was for my own good. What if it was never about protection—just control?

Systems and institutions taught us to regulate, suppress, and feel guilty about any bodily pleasure that feels too good. Food, rest, sex, touch, even simple joys like taking time for ourselves—if we enjoy them too much, we’re selfish. If we avoid them completely, we’re disciplined.

Reframing Pleasure and Pain

Pleasure itself isn’t bad.

It makes sense that if not all pleasure is bad, then not all pleasure is good. Just like pain—some pain is good, and some is harmful. Where did we get the idea that pleasure and pain are things to fear? Who benefits from making us feel guilty about enjoying our existence?

Let’s talk about our relationships to feelings of pain and pleasure.

Why This Conversation Matters

In this blog, I want to continue our last conversation on ownership and our relationship to ourselves. Let’s explore how pleasure got labeled as sinful, and how this distorted our relationships with our bodies. How has shame and guilt been used to control societies? How can we unlearn the shame and build a healthier relationship with pleasure and pain to create better habits?

Catch up on the previous blog here: Autonomy, Language, Ownership, and the Body in America

Breaking Down the Logic: Pleasure Isn’t Good or Bad—It Just Is

Understanding the Basics

Pleasure in itself is not bad. Let’s break down the logic behind why:

• Not all pleasure is bad.
• Not all pleasure is good.
• Not all pain is bad.
• Not all pain is good.

This is basic logic—and yet it’s not how many of us were raised to think. We’ve been conditioned to believe that pleasure must be controlled or minimized. If it feels good, it’s suspicious. If it hurts, it must be building character.

The Parallel in Fitness

In fitness communities, we accept the nuance of pain. We know that to build muscle and strength, we have to push through a bit of discomfort. But too much pain can lead to injuries. The same goes for pleasure. A little can be restorative; too much, or the wrong kind, can be harmful.

The Two Extremes: Hedonism and Self-Denial

Some philosophies, like hedonism, elevate pleasure as the highest good – in other words, pleasure is the point of life. Constantly chasing pleasure while avoiding all pain also leads to self-destruction and fractured relationships.

On the other hand, some traditions – like popular modern-day stoicism – teach us to reject pleasure altogether—to see pain and discipline as the path to moral strength. That kind of total denial can create long-term harm.

Why Pleasure Matters for Regulation

Our bodies are wired to use pleasure to regulate the nervous system. It helps us recover from stress and return to balance. When we’re constantly denying healthy pleasure, our bodies often rebel. We may turn to less intentional forms of self-soothing—binging, secrecy, or compulsive behaviors fueled by shame and guilt.

How Beliefs Shape Behavior

When we internalize the belief that life must be painful, we don’t just carry that burden ourselves—we start projecting it onto others. If we believe suffering makes us “good,” we unconsciously expect those around us to suffer too.

Some of the most dangerous people I’ve encountered were trying to show me “tough love” in what they believed to be in my best interest. They were trapped in a cycle, convinced that inflicting pain was part of love, loyalty, or righteousness.

How Pleasure Became a Dirty Word

The War on Pleasure

What is the “best” way to live? We have been asking ourselves these questions for, I believe, as long as we could talk. Where has today’s popular philosophy around pleasure originated from? For centuries, religious and government institutions have framed pleasure—especially bodily pleasure—as dangerous and corrupting.

The core message was simple: the body is weak and sinful, and anything that feels too good will lead to temptation, corruption, and eventual destruction.

We were taught to reject bodily pleasure and instead focus on strengthening our faith. Being a “good” person meant following strict rules and denying ourselves any physical indulgence.

Bodily pleasures, we were warned, would not only corrupt our souls—it would condemn us to eternal suffering. Self-denial and physical punishment when we strayed were portrayed as the keys to moral purity and even eternal bliss.

This rejection of bodily pleasure wasn’t just enforced through religious rules—it was baked into an entire moral framework that Nietzsche fiercely criticized in Beyond Good and Evil. He argued that what many people call “morality” is actually a system built to control the strong and elevate the meek.

Read the book here: Beyond Good and Evil

In his view, religious morality turned natural instincts like desire, ambition, and sensuality into sins. By labeling pleasure as dangerous and self-denial as virtuous, Nietzsche believed these systems trained people to suppress their own vitality.

Instead of encouraging self-trust and personal strength, governments and religious organizations demanded obedience and guilt. In doing so, they distorted what it meant to be human—framing pleasure not as a life-affirming force, but as something shameful to overcome.

The Consequences of Suppressing Pleasure

Why We Need Pleasure to Regulate

Some pleasure is necessary for the body to regulate the nervous system. When we’re constantly suppressing natural bodily functions and shaming ourselves for seeking joy, we create deep and lasting harm to our relationship with the body. Without healthy outlets for pleasure, our ability to self-soothe and recover from stress is compromised.

Generations Conditioned to Feel Shame

Entire generations have grown up believing that anything connected to the body—desire, rest, sex, food—is shameful. The guilt that comes with this conditioning makes it nearly impossible to enjoy pleasure without internal conflict. Even simple comforts become sources of anxiety, rather than healing.

Morality vs. Instinct

The standards for what is considered “good” or “righteous” were often designed to run counter to our natural instincts. In ultra-religious settings—such as some Catholic communities or regions in the U.S. that emphasize purity and self-denial—this mindset has led to devastating consequences.

When Suppression Turns Dangerous

These communities often report higher rates of sexual violence (especially toward children), teenage pregnancies, and consumption of violent pornography. The shame and restriction around pleasure doesn’t protect people—it creates a dangerous vacuum of secrecy, repression, and harm.

Shame as a Tool for Control

If we can be convinced that our desires are dangerous, we become easier to control. If we feel guilty for seeking joy, we’re more likely to seek forgiveness, redemption, or punishment—making us easier to manipulate. Guilt and shame have been powerful tools used to control entire societies by turning our natural desires against us.

Evidence of Harm

Studies have shown strong correlations between conservative religious environments and negative sexual health outcomes:

• Teen Birth Rates: A study published in Reproductive Health found that U.S. states with more conservative religious beliefs tend to have higher teen birth rates. Researchers suggest that reduced access to contraception and limited sexual education contribute to this trend.[¹]
• Pornography Consumption: Research in Socius: Sociological Research for a Dynamic World found that individuals with evangelical identities living in politically conservative states report higher rates of pornography consumption. The authors suggest that personal religious beliefs, combined with a restrictive cultural climate, contribute to this outcome.[²]
• Sexual Violence: Investigations have uncovered widespread child sexual abuse within religious communities. For example, the Associated Press reported on a crisis within a secretive Christian sect where abusive ministers were shielded from consequences.[³] These stories echo similar reports from Catholic institutions and high-control religious groups.

If you’ve watched a couple of episodes of “How I Escaped My Cult,” it’s obvious how religion is constantly used as a tool to abuse, often sexual abuse. These findings suggest that strict purity cultures, combined with shame and the lack of comprehensive sexual education, don’t lead to safer behaviors. Instead, they increase the likelihood of secrecy, violence, and misinformation.

Even in Secular Spaces, Religious Influence Remains

Even in places where the population is not very religious, American culture has already been so heavily influenced by religious ethics and morals—the very same ones that have made engaging in bodily pleasure a sinful and shameful act. Most of the media we consume and the roots of the moral philosophy we’re taught as we grow up have been shaped by religious doctrine.

Even those of us who wouldn’t consider ourselves “strictly religious”—or religious at all—are not exempt from the risks of adopting these harmful philosophies and inadvertently harming ourselves and others. That’s why it’s so important to have these conversations openly and intentionally work on creating our own philosophy of what’s “right” and “wrong,” “ethical” or “unethical,” and what is truly “healthy” versus what is “harmful.”

When we start from scratch and carefully examine our thoughts and beliefs around these topics—looking at what we’ve been taught, what we’ve experienced, and the historical roots of these philosophies—we can begin to construct our own understanding. And in doing so, we create the foundation for communities that truly heal, strengthen, and support one another. This is how we build more just, ethical, happier, and healthier lives—together.

The Stoics: Then vs. Now

It wasn’t only religious teachings that helped frame pleasure as dangerous. Stoicism—an ancient Greek philosophy also influenced how many view pleasure and pain. But it’s important to be clear: the original Stoic philosophy did not promote suffering for suffering’s sake, nor did it outright reject pleasure.

Classical Stoics encouraged people to be indifferent to things outside of their control, including pleasure and pain. That didn’t mean rejecting pleasure entirely—it meant not becoming ruled by it. The goal was freedom through inner stability, not misery through self-denial.

Modern Misinterpretations: Pain as Virtue

Despite the nuance of original Stoic thought, modern interpretations—especially within health, fitness, and “grind” culture—have twisted Stoicism into a glorification of pain and discomfort. In these spaces, suffering is often portrayed as a sign of strength and discipline, while pleasure is seen as weakness.

We hear things like:

• “No pain, no gain.”
• “Comfort is the enemy of growth.”

While resilience and effort are important, this mindset can quickly slip into extremes—where only pain is valued and pleasure is viewed with suspicion.

The Rise of Grind Culture and Fitness Extremes

In some corners of gym culture and the self-help world, there’s a belief that enduring suffering—whether physical, emotional, or mental—is inherently noble. This can lead people to ignore their body’s warning signs or shame themselves for needing rest, nourishment, or joy.

The consequences are real:

• Chronic injuries from overtraining
• Burnout and exhaustion
• Body dysmorphia and disordered eating
• A distorted sense of worth based on how much suffering one can tolerate

In this culture, the rejection of pleasure becomes a competition, and pain becomes a measuring stick for success.

Reclaiming Balance: What the Stoics Actually Taught

Returning to the original Stoic wisdom offers us a more sustainable approach. The Stoics weren’t anti-pleasure—they were anti-dependence. They warned against letting external pleasures control our inner state. But they also believed in rational self-care, physical health, friendship, and joy within reason.

True resilience isn’t found in rejecting pleasure, but in not being ruled by either pleasure or pain. It’s about choosing both intentionally, in service of a life rooted in wisdom and integrity.

Pleasure as a Class Divider

Pleasure has never been policed equally. Throughout history, the rich and powerful have always indulged in food, sex, rest, and entertainment without shame or consequence.

Meanwhile, marginalized communities—including Black, Indigenous, and working-class people—have been punished for seeking the same joys. Pleasure became a privilege for the powerful and a crime for the oppressed. When we express desire or joy from these positions, we’re labeled as lazy, indulgent, or immoral. When the wealthy engage in the same pleasures, they’re called refined or sophisticated.

The ability to experience pleasure without guilt or punishment has always been a symbol of privilege and power.

The Politics of Fear

We weren’t just told that pleasure was bad—we were taught to fear it. And fear is a powerful tool of control.

If we fear something, we regulate it ourselves. When we’re constantly policing our own and each other’s bodies and desires, no one else has to—we do it for them. This creates the perfect environment for secrecy, shame, and manipulation. It allows powerful systems to continue unchecked, while we internalize the belief that our desires are the problem.

These are natural, human experiences that have been framed as dangerous or sinful:

• Eating
• Resting
• Sex and desire
• Touch and connection
• Mind-altering experiences

We don’t have to be taught to seek these things—they’re part of being human. So why have they been demonized? Because the more we fear our own desires, the easier we are to isolate, shame, and control.

Overindulging as a Rebellion Against Shame

When pleasure feels forbidden, it often becomes more tempting. We may binge, chase, or overindulge—seeking pleasure in ways that feel out of control because we’ve been taught that pleasure itself is wrong.

The moment we slip up or indulge, we label ourselves as shameful, weak, or broken. And once we believe we’re already “bad,” it’s easy to spiral deeper. That one indulgence becomes the justification for more, leading us further down the path of secrecy, guilt, and overconsumption.

The Result: No Balance

When pleasure is framed as something shameful, we either run from it or chase it recklessly—unable to find a middle ground. We lose the ability to listen to our bodies with compassion and curiosity. Instead of seeking balance, we swing between restriction and excess.

Reclaiming a healthy relationship to pleasure starts with releasing the guilt and fear we’ve been taught—and learning to trust ourselves again.

Rebuilding Our Relationship with Pleasure

Now that we’ve explored the harm that comes from suppressing or overindulging in pleasure, it’s time to begin the process of rebuilding. We can develop a healthy, balanced relationship with pleasure—one that supports our well-being instead of undermining it.

Understanding the Need Behind the Pleasure

Let’s begin by asking: what are we really seeking when we turn to pleasure?

• Are we craving connection?
• Trying to ease physical or emotional pain?
• Lacking access to rest, food, or comfort?

Many of the pleasures we seek—especially when they become compulsive—are attempts to meet unmet physical or emotional needs. When we recognize that, we can begin to meet those needs in ways that are less harmful and more intentional.

Pleasure as a Spectrum

Pleasure can range from engaging in risky behavior to embracing safe, regenerative experiences. These mental exercises we practice while examining our relationship to pleasure help us gauge our ability to adopt healthier pleasurable practices—or gradually reduce the unhealthy coping mechanisms that might bring short-term satisfaction but lead to long-term pain for ourselves and those around us.

Once we recognize these habits and understand the real needs our desires are signaling, we can begin to meet those needs in healthier ways. This empowers us to engage in pleasure intentionally—with care for our well-being and the well-being of others.

Question What We’ve Been Taught

Let’s reflect on the stories we’ve been told about pleasure.

• What kinds of pleasure were we taught are “wrong”?
• What is our current relationship with sex? Is it pleasurable and safe?
• Are we building healthy relationships, or are we stuck in cycles of conflict, distance, and repair?
• Do we feel comfortable resting when we’re tired, or do we feel guilty for it?
• What kinds of pleasure do we seek that might be harmful to ourselves or others?
• What’s our primary way of self-regulating after stress?
• Can we meet that same need in a way that causes less harm?
• Are we able to talk openly about pleasure, or is it tangled up in secrecy and shame?

Identify Harmful Patterns

If certain pleasures are causing harm, it’s important to look beneath the surface and ask what need they’re trying to fulfill.

• Are we using unsafe sex, substances, or other risky habits to cope with pain, stress, or unmet emotional needs?
• Are there safer, more sustainable ways to meet those same needs?

We don’t have to overhaul everything overnight. Even small, intentional shifts toward healthier forms of pleasure can make a big difference over time. The goal isn’t to punish ourselves—it’s to slowly build habits that nurture and strengthen us rather than cause more harm.

Build a Pleasure Vocabulary

Pleasure comes in many forms. They range from healthy to unhealthy.

Maybe it looks like savoring a sweet treat at the end of a long day.

It might be taking a hot bath, putting on lotion, slipping into fresh sheets, and getting lost in a good book.

Or, it could be safe, consensual sex with someone who truly sees and cares for us. We can take the time to learn and communicate what feels good and the ways we want to engage in pleasurable experiences with others.

Why Sex Isn’t the Only Source of Pleasure

Sex doesn’t have to be the centerpiece of pleasure—and not all sex is healthy. Especially for those of us who can become pregnant, sex carries real, lasting consequences. Having an unplanned child isn’t just life-changing; it’s expensive, exhausting, and can put both the parent and the child in vulnerable, unstable conditions. Not to mention all the other risks that are involved in sexual contact.

Pleasure should never come at the cost of our well-being.

Building a vocabulary around the kinds of pleasure we want to experience is crucial. If we can’t talk about pleasure openly—with ourselves or others—we leave ourselves vulnerable to harm.

When pleasure is tangled up in secrecy, miscommunication, unequal power dynamics, or unclear boundaries, the risks grow bigger. The consequences aren’t small: unwanted pregnancies, emotional damage, and oftentimes physical or sexual abuse.

When we take the time to get clear about what safety and pleasure mean to us personally, we’re not just protecting ourselves—we’re creating the foundation for deeper, healthier connections with others.

Expanding Beyond Sex: How We Use Pleasure to Regulate

Sex is just one of the ways we seek out pleasure to manage stress and regulate our nervous systems—but it’s not the only one. Just like with sex, other coping mechanisms can also be risky if we engage without finding a healthy balance.

Let’s take a broader look at our everyday habits.

Looking at Mind-Altering Substances

Take alcohol, for example. Many of us turn to mind-altering substances after a stressful day, using it as a tool to decompress or temporarily escape discomfort. And while that’s understandable, it can sometimes lead to cycles that don’t truly heal us—or make it harder to find long-term relief from stress.

We don’t need to give up everything overnight. Instead, we can start by layering in healthier, less harmful forms of regulation first.

Building Healthier Habits First

Here’s a simple shift:

• Before reaching for a drink (or any coping mechanism that might carry risks), pause and try something nourishing first.
• Go for a short walk. Stretch. Take a few deep breaths. Call a trusted friend. Eat your favorite fruit. Play a song you love and dance a little. Write down a few thoughts or feelings.

If you still feel like you need the original coping method afterward, that’s okay. No shame—only curiosity and care (as long as you’re not harming the people around you).

The more often we practice reaching for healthier pleasures first, the easier it becomes. Over time, our nervous systems begin to genuinely enjoy these new, sustainable sources of comfort. The old, harmful habits naturally lose their grip.

Once we experience how good healthier choices make us feel, it becomes easier—and more enjoyable—to keep choosing them.

Healing Through Gentle Shifts

Change doesn’t have to be harsh or rigid. True healing happens when we gently steer ourselves toward what feels good and sustainable, without abandoning our need for regulation, connection, or joy.

Bit by bit, healthier pleasure becomes our new normal. And we begin to create lives where resilience, care, and pleasure are all woven together. We can use Motivational Interviewing techniques to gently guide ourselves to make better choices.

Read more about Motivational Interviewing here: Motivational Interviewing: 7 Powerful Tips & Techniques

Find Balance and Trust the Body

Let’s stop trying to conquer our bodies. Let’s create space to enjoy what feels good, while staying grounded in care and responsibility. This is how we build a life where growth and pleasure can coexist—where we don’t need to fear indulgence or idolize deprivation.

Reconnecting with pleasure is about finding ways of making it sustainable. We can build a relationship with pleasure where it becomes a part of our discipline. When we treat pleasure as a natural part of life instead of something to fear, we build stronger, healthier relationships—with ourselves and each other.

Easing Into Pain and Using Pleasure as a Tool for Focus and Discipline

We can use pleasure to make the harder, less enjoyable parts of life easier to handle. For me, it was hard to stay disciplined and focused with things like studying, working, training, or even chores—basically anything that required me to push through discomfort. Once I built a healthy relationship with pleasure and pain and began using them as a way to regulate my nervous system, those difficult tasks became easier.

Building a Relationship With Pain

There was a time when I feared pain so much that any discomfort felt like a threat. I didn’t want to manage it—I wanted it gone. Even after working with a therapist and a trainer who temporarily relieved it, I eventually realized I hadn’t eliminated pain, just replaced one form with another.

Applying the Lesson to Everyday Life

I began to realize that pain wasn’t something I could outrun. It showed up in every area of my life—physical, emotional, and mental. Some of it was so intense, it pushed me to my absolute limit. For a long time, I was terrified of feeling more. I kept thinking, I’ve already been through enough—why should I have to endure anything else?

But the truth is, pain is part of being alive. And avoiding it completely only made me more anxious and unprepared when it inevitably showed up again.

Learning to Move Through It

Eventually, I stopped trying to eliminate pain and started learning how to work with it. I found that I could meet it with compassion instead of fear. I didn’t need to let it destroy me—I could recover, take care of myself, and bring in moments of relief.

That shift changed everything. I stopped seeing pain as a personal failure and started seeing it as something I could navigate with care.

Connecting Effort to Joy

I started to pair hard things with small moments of pleasure—rewarding myself with a pleasurable activity after a workout, study session, or stressful day. It made the challenge feel less intimidating, and it helped me stay consistent.

Now, I try to weave pleasure into everything I do. If I know something good is waiting for me on the other side, I’m more likely to show up and give my best. Pleasure isn’t a distraction anymore—it’s part of my discipline. It’s how I recharge, reset, and stay strong without burning out.

Find Balance Between Pleasure and Growth

Just like building muscle requires some discomfort, finding a healthy relationship with pleasure means allowing for some growing pains. We don’t have to constantly seek pleasure or avoid all pain—we can learn how to self-regulate through healthy, pleasurable practices..

When we create space for safe, intentional pleasure, we feel calmer and more grounded. We also stop feeling the constant pressure to deny ourselves every physical comfort in the name of discipline or strength. A balanced approach to pleasure means recognizing that we deserve to feel good while still maintaining a sense of control and care for ourselves and others.

There’s a big difference between chasing pleasure in secrecy and shame—especially when it causes harm—and building a healthy relationship with pleasure that helps us recover, regulate, and feel more grounded. When we seek out pleasure in ways that are intentional and supportive, it can be a powerful tool for healing and resilience.

Pleasure isn’t the enemy of discipline, it’s the doorway to a deeper kind of self-respect.

Reconnect with your body through pleasure by following these Instagram accounts:

Footnotes

[1] Strayhorn, J.M., & Strayhorn, J.C. (2009). Religious intensity, sexual behavior, and teen birth rate in the United States. Reproductive Health, 6(14). https://reproductive-health-journal.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/1742-4755-6-14

[2] Perry, S.L., & Schleifer, C. (2018). Watching while religious: Religiosity, political orientation, and pornography consumption in the U.S. Socius, 4. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2378023118765760

[3] Associated Press. (2019). Inside the church that shields child abusers. https://apnews.com/article/a8b7e2f6b29c49c5bbf8ed2dfe7ecff3