Sex Therapy: Sex Isn't an Island (And neither are you)
- Gwenivere Weiss
- Jul 9
- 3 min read
By Gwenivere Weiss, MA, LPC

In my office, sex therapy is holistic because you are holistic. You are not just a bundle of genitals and nerve endings. You are a layered, brilliant, complex human being with a story—and your sexuality is smack dab in the middle of that story, whether you want it to be or not.
A lot of people come into my office saying something like,
“I just want some tools to feel more desire,”
or “I just want to stop avoiding sex,”
or “My parents have nothing to do with it, we don't need to go over my upbringing.”
This is so understandable and deeply important to say aloud. Most people don’t feel excited about opening up their old wounds or digging into the murky stuff that lives under the surface. But here’s the thing: your sexual self doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s not quarantined from your relationship with your body, your history with trust, the way you learned to ask (or not ask) for what you need, the messages you got about pleasure and sex from your family of origin, and what happens inside you when someone gets too close.
If your sexual challenges are not solely physiological, they probably didn’t pop up out of nowhere. They have context within your entire life. They have roots. Sometimes they’re tangled up in stress, resentment, grief, shame, or just plain exhaustion. Sometimes they’re knotted into old patterns, like being the caregiver or the achiever or the peacemaker or the one who never makes a fuss.
So yes, in my office if you’re there for sex therapy, we’re going to talk about sex. We will talk about what is going on physically, and tools for how to move through this particular challenge—but we’re also going to talk about work. And burnout. And how you stopped letting yourself want things somewhere along the way. We’re going to talk about those years you spent pretending it was fine, and the part of you that still isn’t sure if you’re allowed to feel enjoyment, or stop long enough to feel the sunshine on your cheek. We're going to talk about the feelings that you're not good enough, not sexy enough, or the belief that you need to lose weight before you deserve to enjoy sex again. We’re going to talk about how your parents did or didn’t show affection, what you learned about love and partnership as a child, and how you relate to rest and relaxation.
We’re going to talk about all of it. Not because I want to turn your life into a big project, but because I want you to actually feel freer in your life, and your sex life is inside of your life. Because when you tend to the whole garden, the flowers grow better—including the sexy ones.
It doesn’t have to be heavy all the time. Sometimes we laugh a lot in my therapy office. Sometimes you’ll roll your eyes at how obvious it all is in hindsight. Sometimes it will feel like a huge relief to finally say the things you’ve been carrying alone.
But if you’re coming in to my office hoping I have a 3-step plan to instantly "fix your libido" without ever talking about your life (although I totally get why that sounds appealing) —I want to invite you to slow down, and approach your own process like you may with sex; with curiosity, playfulness sometimes, and attunement to the particular place you've landed in life.
I am not a sex consultant, although I will consult with you about your current challenges. In my office, you won't come in once a month, get your homework, and only come back once you've finished your assignments- I am not a schoolmarm. And though we may think of exercises for you to do, I won't be there to chastise you if you don't finish them. Again, we will bring curiosity to the process. In my office we will dive deeper, put our minds and hearts together to understand
how you got to where you are today. We will glean the wisdom of your body and mind, and gather data to better understand how to chart a course to where you want to go.
Real change is possible. But it’s rarely tidy. It’s often tender. And it starts when we stop pretending that sex is something separate from the rest of our lives.



