The Tranquil Vintessa

When I entered my healing era, I didn’t know what it would consist of or who I would be on the other side. All I knew was that something had to change — I was tired of repeating old habits and patterns that kept me in a loop of self-sabotage.

As I started to do the inner work, I noticed something unexpected. The things I once relied on to soothe myself — drinking, shopping, binge eating — slowly began to lose their pull. In their place, I adopted healthier habits that helped keep me grounded, balanced, and present. I was no longer dipping in and out of stability. I was building it from the inside out.

One of the most surprising shifts came in how I related to sex.

For a long time, I thought I was just a very sexual person. I’d meet up with men solely for that purpose, telling myself it was what I wanted — and at the time, I believed it. But healing, and reconnecting with my higher self, made me question everything I thought I knew. Was I truly a sexual person, or had I simply been taught that in order to feel happy, validated, or fulfilled, sex had to be part of the equation?

For much of my life, I’d been used for sex — sometimes knowingly, sometimes not. I believed I was in control, that I held the power. But looking back, I now see how much of it was rooted in people-pleasing. I wasn’t having sex because I desired it deeply, but because it was expected. It was tied to my image, my worth, my desirability. I was hypersexual because I had been conditioned to be.

When I stopped having sex, I didn’t feel like I was missing anything — not until someone else brought it up. There was a part of me that still felt I needed to have sex to relate to others, or to have a story worth telling. But in truth, my last real relationship only involved intimacy a few times a year. After it ended, I went a full two years without sex.

Towards the end of that celibacy, I grew tired of self-pleasure. I missed physical closeness — the weight of a body against mine. Eventually, I gave in to old patterns and found a hookup. But afterward, I felt unsatisfied. Empty. It wasn’t just sex I was craving — it was intimacy. Emotion. Presence. I didn’t want just a moment; I wanted something real.

That’s when it clicked: when you’re truly healing, your body and your mind begin to sync. You no longer chase fleeting pleasure just to fill a void. You recognize that random hookups or even porn often don’t meet the deeper need. And that need is often not about sex at all — it’s about connection.

I see women talking about this more and more on TikTok and Instagram — how healing sometimes makes you feel like you don’t want sex anymore. And it’s true. But it’s not because we’re ashamed or prudish or hiding something. It’s because once you begin to understand your worth, you realize that most of the time, you weren’t actually craving sex. You were trying to fill a hole (pun intended) that no amount of physical intimacy could ever satisfy.

When the right person comes along — someone who speaks to you emotionally, spiritually, energetically — the physical connection follows naturally. Until then, peace becomes more valuable than passion.

Now, I’m not saying you won’t ever crave sex again or that hookups are inherently wrong. If you’re feeling yourself and want to go get yours, by all means — do you. But as you continue to evolve, it’s worth asking:
Is this just physical, or am I craving something deeper?
Am I seeking intimacy, or am I trying to feel less alone?
Do I truly want this person, or do I just want to be wanted?

Sometimes the answer is yes — and sometimes, it’s simply not worth the headache. (Believe me, I’ve learned that one the hard way.)

These days, while I might still have the occasional fling, I no longer feel ruled by my desire. Even in the height of ovulation, I don’t experience the same ravenous urgency. It’s just a moment, and my healed self is quick to ask: Is he worth your peace? Even if it’s just for a night?

Most times, the answer is no. And the urge passes.

Because peace — real peace — is the goal. Everything else will fall into place.