What Consent Feels Like

Consent is often discussed in oversimplified terms—"no means no," "yes means yes," or the classic metaphor, "offering someone a cup of tea." But for many people, especially those with histories of subtle or chronic boundary violations, consent is not a given—it’s an unfamiliar experience, not just intellectually, but somatically and emotionally.

Some individuals don’t realize they’ve never really felt consent until they try to imagine it—perhaps during a guided exercise, a relational moment, or a therapeutic invitation to describe what they want. Instead of safety, they may feel grief. Or confusion. Or absolutely nothing.

When Consent Is Foreign, Even the Idea Can Hurt

In therapy, exercises like the "3 Minute Game"—where individuals ask for and receive touch in clear, consensual ways—are designed to build trust. But for someone who has spent a lifetime having their boundaries minimized or overridden, even these gentle exercises can surface unexpected reactions.

They may find themselves suddenly tearful, ashamed, resistant, or numb—not because the structure is flawed, but because it highlights what has been missing all along.

Beyond Yes and No: What Consent Actually Requires

True consent is not simply a verbal “yes” or “no.” It requires:

• Agency – The freedom to say no without fear of repercussion.

• Attunement – A partner who notices shifts in tone, body, and energy—not just words.

• Capacity – Enough safety to know what one wants and the space to express it.

Without these, “consent” can become a performance—done to avoid discomfort, guilt, or emotional fallout.

How the Absence of Consent Begins Early

For some, the inability to recognize consent is rooted in childhood experiences that didn’t seem traumatic, but taught enduring lessons about the body’s lack of safety. These might include:

• Being tickled or hugged despite protest.

• Being teased for crying or flinching.

• Being asked to “be nice” or “give a hug” to avoid hurting someone else’s feelings.

No one may have intended harm. But the child learns:

“What I want doesn’t matter.”“My reactions are wrong.”“It’s easier to submit than resist.”

When Grief and Resistance Are Part of Healing

When someone first begins to imagine what consent might actually feel like—asking for what they want, receiving safe touch, being listened to—they may experience not relief, but grief. They may be overwhelmed by the realization that they’ve never had that kind of safety before.

This grief is not a setback. It’s a recognition of truth. It marks the moment a body begins to feel what was never allowed before.

Consent Is Not a Checkbox. It’s a Culture. A Way of Being.

True consent is not about compliance. It’s about mutual presence, curiosity, and respect.It’s about allowing people to not know, to change their minds, to say stop, to ask for more.

For those who have never been granted that space, the work begins not with doing—it begins with imagining.And often, that imagination brings tears. Not because it’s too much—but because it’s finally enough.

Gentle Reflection and Support

If you’ve ever felt numb, resistant, or overwhelmed in situations where you were "supposed" to feel safe or intimate, you are not alone. Many people are just beginning to learn what true consent feels like—not just in theory, but in the body. Therapy can offer space to explore this gently, with care and attunement.