Pleasure, Grief, and Nervous System Regulation
It’s easy to think that grief and pleasure are mutually exclusive. In hard times, many of us try to “push down” desire to survive emotionally. But grief is not a cage; it’s a signal. Pleasure doesn’t erase it—it coexists, creating space for clarity and resilience.
I remember one afternoon late last year, sitting by the beach where we live, scrolling the news while my dogs sniffed around for strange forbidden delicacies to nibble on. Every headline seemed to press on my chest like a weight. And then one of my dogs, Gomez, caught a scent. His tail started wagging and he began to scratch at the sand. His excitement and joy over this tiny thing he found was contagious. Looking at this joy brought me joy ( and temporary concern, he’s a notorious hunter and likes to dine on all manner of disgusting things). Yet for a moment, the heaviness lifted. That small, embodied joy didn’t make the world safer, but it allowed me to inhabit my body and notice my breath, my heart, my aliveness. I was able to feel grief and pleasure simultaneously—and in that simultaneity, I found a tiny spark of grounding.
How the Nervous System Reacts
Our nervous systems contract under chronic stress. Heart rates accelerate, muscles tighten, attention narrows. This contraction is protective, but it flattens perception, dulls empathy, and makes every moment feel uniformly dire. Left unchecked, it can lead to emotional numbing, exhaustion, or even a sense that life itself is only about surviving.
Pleasure is regulatory. When we intentionally engage our senses, it counteracts this contraction. A warm shower, a song that makes us move, or the taste of food we savor expands our nervous system and reconnects us to life.
Audre Lorde framed the erotic as a resource, writing, “The erotic offers a well of creative energy, a resource within ourselves which can give us the power to scrutinize the world and our lives, and to act upon that knowledge.” Pleasure isn’t indulgence—it’s agency. Feeling it while grieving is survival.
Practical Ways to Reclaim Pleasure
Here are some examples and micro-practices to integrate pleasure without negating grief:
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Music as Medicine
One evening, a friend I’d lost touch with called unexpectedly. We put on Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On and danced in my living room. Even though the pandemic had left me exhausted and anxious, the movement grounded me in my body. Music can soothe the nervous system, trigger relaxation, and reconnect you to sensation without requiring you to ignore your grief. -
Movement and Stretching
A colleague of mine started a simple evening ritual: ten minutes of stretching or yoga, sometimes paired with upbeat music. She says it makes her body feel alive again, loosening tension and anxiety that build up during the day. Movement—even brief—is a direct pathway to pleasure and regulation. -
Nature as Reconnection
Walking barefoot on wet grass, warm sand, feeling rain on your face, or leaning into a warm sunbeam—these are immediate, embodied ways to expand the nervous system. A friend I know started taking ten-minute morning walks, focusing on the sounds of birds, the wind, and the textures underfoot. She reports feeling more present, less anxious, and more able to manage grief when it arises. -
Physical Connection and Touch
Touch—whether hugging a friend, holding a partner’s hand, or petting an animal—activates oxytocin and lowers stress hormones. One night, I wrapped up in a blanket with my dogs, feeling their warmth and gentle snores. That simple physical pleasure grounded me and reminded me I could inhabit my body safely, even amid anxiety. -
Micro-Moments of Laughter
Humor is a neuro-regulator. Watching a funny video, sharing a meme, or laughing at a clumsy moment with a loved one allows the body to release tension. These bursts of pleasure don’t erase grief—they make grief bearable.
Integrating Pleasure with Grief
Pleasure and grief can coexist when approached consciously:
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Notice without judgment: Laugh, enjoy, or feel sensual pleasure, then allow grief to rise again. They don’t cancel each other.
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Anchor in the body: Use breath, touch, or movement to stay embodied. Pleasure is a bodily experience; grief often resides in the body too.
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Frame as practice: View pleasure as a resource, not a reward. Lorde emphasizes the erotic as energy that strengthens discernment and ethical action.
By intentionally engaging pleasure, we regulate our nervous system, reclaim energy, and remain capable of sustaining care and ethical engagement in a world that demands both.
I’ve learned that pleasure isn’t an antidote to grief—it’s a way of living with it. Last month, after a long day of heavy news, I sat with a candle, a cup of tea, and a movie that made me laugh. The grief didn’t vanish, but the body remembered that it could feel light, spacious, and alive. That remembrance gave me courage to show up again, to act, to care.
As Lorde reminds us, pleasure is a well of creative energy—a resource that sustains attention, action, and love. Engaging it while grieving is not indulgence. It is ethics, practice, and survival.
