Reflections on porn

Recently in the UK, restrictions have been introduced that require age verification for porn sites. These changes followed investigations that revealed illegal material, including videos shared without consent, videos of abuse and underage content.

When I read about the restrictions, I felt a quiet relief, it felt about time children were protected from this industry. And yet I found myself wondering, what about the adults? Maybe these restrictions are also a good moment for us to pause and reflect on what porn really is, and what place we want it to have in our lives.

As part of my work, I have been curious about porn and its effects: physically, emotionally, energetically, and spiritually. Over the years I have watched short clips for observation. Each time, my body responded with a deep unease. What I saw did not feel like intimacy or even genuine pleasure. It felt more like performance, fast, mechanical, disconnected. Something that might stimulate the body for a moment but leaves the heart untouched.

This matters, because intimacy is more than a physical act. It is also about connection, safety, and being seen. Porn, for many people, quietly shifts how these experiences feel. It shows us an image of sex that we begin to believe is real, even though it is only performance. We rarely stop to ask ourselves: what does intimacy feel like in our bodies when it is real? What does genuine connection look like between two people?

For many men, porn has become both a habit and a struggle. A few have shared with me how difficult it feels to step away from it. There can be shame, there can be guilt, and there can also be a sense of not knowing how to stop. Porn teaches the body to look for intensity over intimacy. Over time, real human connection can feel less stimulating. Presence, slowness, and depth, the very things that make intimacy meaningful, become harder to access. Some men have told me that being with a real woman feels flat compared to the high-speed intensity of porn.

And yet others have shared something different. Some have stopped watching porn and describe feeling liberated, as if a heavy weight has lifted. They speak about having more energy, more confidence, and a clearer sense of self. Some men have even begun exploring semen retention, and the benefits they describe are beautiful: feeling stronger in their bodies, calmer in their emotions, and more attuned to their bodies. These stories remind me that change is possible, and that what we choose to feed our energy into shapes not only our sexuality but also our vitality and presence in the world.

For women, the impact often looks different but is just as deep. Porn creates expectations about how a body should look, sound, and respond. These expectations can weigh heavily, making women feel they must perform rather than relax. A woman’s body needs time, tenderness, emotional connection, and safety. Without these, intimacy can feel shallow, and many women begin to withdraw, tired of being touched without being felt.

Beyond the personal effects, there is also the reality of the industry itself. Many performers carry trauma. Some are exploited or trafficked. Even those who enter freely often face long term consequences. And each time any kind of porn is consumed, it feeds into a wider field that feels heavy, distorted, and draining.

I share this because there are other ways, softer ways, that nourish rather than numb. That might mean touching ourselves with more presence, slowing down with a partner, or allowing intimacy to unfold with curiosity and care.

Perhaps, when the pull toward porn arises, there could be a pause. A hand on the heart, another on the belly. A breath that softens the body. And in that pause, a gentle question: what is truly being longed for right now?

Often, the answer is not porn. Is connection, is to feel close, too feel safe. To be touched in a way that goes deeper than the body and reaches the heart. These are things porn cannot offer, but they are always possible in the living, breathing reality of our bodies and relationships.

And perhaps the deeper question is this: what is the connection we are truly longing for?

Love,
Rosie x