There was a time I thought healing had to be loud. That it needed to be documented, wrapped in pretty language, turned into something palatable and shareable. That I had to post about it, talk about it, create from it to prove that I was doing the work.
But real healing doesn’t work that way.
Not always.
Not often.
Because the truth is, some of the most life-altering shifts happen in silence, in the soft, unglamorous corners of life, where no one is watching.
Like when you say no to something that used to trigger your “yes” just so you’d be loved.
Or when you catch yourself before you spiral, and choose a different thought instead.
Or when you lay next to your partner and for the first time in a long time you don’t feel the need to numb anything first.
That’s healing.
It’s not performative. It’s present. And it’s f-cking holy.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the kind of healing that doesn’t get celebrated because no one sees it.
Like the moment you sit with your own loneliness instead of distracting it away.
Or when you let yourself climax without wondering how you look while doing it.
When you take a walk instead of pouring a drink.
When you stop apologizing for your softness.
When you put the wine glass down not because you “should” but because you realize you don’t need it to feel safe anymore.
That kind of healing is sacred.
And that kind of healing is yours.
Over the weekend, I was sitting by the lake with my laptop and a cup of coffee. The air was soft. Craig was dozing in a hammock, and the water had that shimmer it gets when the clouds are just beginning to break. The whole world felt like a held breath and in that stillness, something inside me clicked into place again.
I didn’t feel like I needed to do anything, prove anything, be anything.
Just be.
And isn’t that the point of all this?
To reclaim presence.
To return to ourselves.
To learn how to be in a moment. In our bodies, in our relationships, in our desires, without needing a filter, a substance, a show.
There’s a chapter in Sober Sex where I talk about how substances aren’t the problem. The problem is the disconnection underneath them.
Most of us weren’t taught how to feel.
We were taught how to perform.
We were taught how to seduce, how to please, how to smile and say yes even when our body screamed no.
But we weren’t taught how to be with ourselves in the rawness of desire. Or the awkwardness of vulnerability. Or the intensity of love without defenses.
So, we reached for what dulled the edges.
And that worked until it didn’t.
Sober Sex isn’t a book about never drinking again.
It’s a book about asking the harder questions.
About why we need to drink to say yes.
Why we feel safer turned off than fully on.
Why the deepest pleasure sometimes only feels available when we escape ourselves first.
And what it could look like to reclaim it from the inside out.
I’ve gotten a few reviews already. Messages. Notes from readers. Some tell me they cried. Some said they’d never thought about their sexuality that way before. Some were quiet thank-yous I’ll carry for a long time.
But the ones that got me?
The ones who said, “I didn’t even know I had anything to heal… until I read this.”
Because that’s how healing works. It doesn’t always come with a loud knock. Sometimes it whispers in.
Sometimes it curls up beside you in bed and says, hey… it’s safe now.
And when you’re ready, it shows you a different way.
So today, if you’re tired of pretending…
If you’ve had enough of curating your life to make others more comfortable…
If you’ve felt the dull ache of “this should feel better than it does”…
Let this musing be your reminder.
You’re allowed to feel it all.
To choose differently.
To pause before saying yes.
To experience pleasure without the prerequisite of escape.
You don’t need to be broken to benefit from a shift.
You just have to be honest.
This world needs more people who are willing to feel again.
Who are willing to do intimacy, real intimacy… not just sex.
Who want to make love to life, not just get through it.
And who want to do it without apology.
The Kindle edition of Sober Sex is free until July 12th.
I hope you’ll read it.
Not because I want another number on the charts.
But because I know what it’s like to live in performance.
And I know what it feels like to leave that behind.
📬 And if it speaks to you — let me know.
I’m listening.
“Sometimes the biggest shift in your life happens in a moment no one sees. Let that be enough.”
As always loving you from here,
Rene’ Schooler
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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