First—thank you for your patience, and I owe you an apology. I’ve been quiet for far longer than I ever intended. Life didn’t just get busy; it demanded my full attention. My health needed care, my work intensified, and my personal life asked me to step back and tend to things that simply couldn’t be postponed. I know many of you have written, checked in, and waited. Please know that your messages have meant more than I can say, even when I haven’t had the capacity to respond or only respond to a few (I will respond to all of you).
There is good news woven into the chaos. In the midst of all this, I was awarded my postgraduate degree with honours—something I’m deeply proud of. I was also immersed in a major cultural event that consumed nearly every waking hour, while simultaneously working toward the release of several upcoming books, including one very close to my heart on sacred sexuality and lactation. It’s been a season of intense creation, pressure, and transformation.
That said, I want to be honest with you: I’ve been going through some very difficult times including a possible cancer return. I’m not fully out of the woods yet. Some days feel heavier than others, and time remains painfully limited. This article (my first in months) is part of my slow return to life, to connection, to expression. Please forgive me if I can’t reply to everyone right away. If you’ve written to me, I promise I will respond when I’m able—but repeated messages quickly become overwhelming so please don’t over-message as I will get back to you. Understand that right now I have to protect my nervous system as fiercely as I can.
What this period has taught me (sometimes the hard way) is the importance of self-care that includes the pause. Not everything deserves an immediate response. Not every message, request, or demand needs our instant energy. In a world addicted to urgency, pausing is a radical act of care.
We are not just minds dragging bodies behind them. We are body, mind, and spirit—and our health care must reflect that truth. When one of those aspects is neglected, imbalance follows. And imbalance, over time, makes us unwell.
For me, under prolonged stress, I quietly abandoned my sensual and sexual self. There simply didn’t seem to be space for it. Sexuality—even solo intimacy—was put aside. Lactation, too, fell by the wayside. What I didn’t fully appreciate at the time was how deeply interconnected these systems are. Chronic stress, combined with the absence of touch, pleasure, and breast stimulation, began to affect my health in ways that were subtle at first… and then unmistakable.
Sexologists have long warned us about this. Esther Perel famously reminds us that “sexuality is not something you do—it’s a place you go.” When we shut the door to that place for months at a time, something vital within us dims. Dr. Emily Nagoski’s research echoes this, showing that pleasure and sexual self-connection are not luxuries but regulators of the nervous system. They help modulate stress, support emotional resilience, and maintain our sense of self.
Temporarily switching off from sex, touch, or self-pleasure—especially under prolonged stress—can lead to anxiety, low mood, disconnection from the body, and even physical symptoms. I lived that reality. And I also noticed something else slipping away: my creativity.
In many somatic and spiritual traditions, the sacral chakra governs creativity, sexuality, and emotional flow. When we deny or suppress our sexual nature, we don’t just lose pleasure—we lose inspiration, confidence, and emotional vitality. For me, writing became harder. Ideas felt blocked. Joy felt distant. While I never have experienced full-blown depression, I came close, dangerously so…
A few weeks ago, I made a conscious decision to return to my body. I went back into lactation and began inducing again—gently, intentionally. To my surprise, I discovered that my milk had never fully gone away, even after months without pumping. Within a week, something shifted. I felt calmer. More grounded. My self-confidence—badly bruised by the past months—began to return. My body remembered something my mind had forgotten.
This experience reminded me that breast stimulation and erotic lactation are not modern oddities. They are ancestral, archetypal practices that were once deeply woven into human culture. They deserve to be reclaimed—not as spectacle, but as part of a holistic health routine that honours the full human experience.
Emerging research even suggests broader health implications. While no single practice is a cure-all, studies such as those by Dr. Timothy Murrell have explored links between breast health, nipple stimulation, and reduced cancer risk—highlighting the importance of nipple care, hormonal balance, and tissue awareness. At the very least, this reinforces what many of us intuitively know: listening to and engaging with our bodies matters.
We are sexual beings. Denying that truth—especially over long periods—can create real emotional, physical, and creative consequences. Reconnection doesn’t have to look one specific way. It simply has to be intentional, compassionate, and embodied.
So this is where I am: returning, slowly. Honouring the pause. Reclaiming my sensuality as medicine, not indulgence. And inviting you, gently, to do the same—because harmony of body, mind, and spirit is not optional. It’s essential.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for waiting. And thank you for allowing me the space to come back, one honest step at a time. I will be uploading more content over the next few weeks and slowly share in the live audio again too from end of February onwards.
Be good to yourselves, this community has incredible people and I appreciate many of you here. Treasure it and DO practice the pause and engage with your bodies. And above all, love…
All my love, Sophia (Elayne) x
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Elayne (Sophia Unveiled)