The Art of Being Impacted: Opening to Connection
There are a million reasons to shut down.
A childhood wound that taught you safety meant staying small. A past betrayal that wired your nervous system for distance. A culture that rewards control over surrender, self-sufficiency over interdependence.
But what if the greatest gift of relationship—whether in love, friendship, or play—is the ability to be impacted? To allow someone to reach you, shift you, move through you?
This is the art of being impacted.
Flogger
The Many Meanings of Impact
I used to wonder why anyone would want to be hit, spanked, or feel pain on purpose—until I played with people who were truly skilled. They showed me that impact could be more than just sensation; it could be pleasurable, playful, and deeply connective.
In BDSM, impact play is an art form—an embodied practice of sensation, power exchange, and trust. At its most visceral, it is felt on the skin: a hand meeting flesh, the rhythm of a flogger, the delicious burn of sensation that pulls us back into our bodies. It is a dance of intensity and release, capable of awakening parts of us that have long been dormant.
Impact play teaches attunement, surrender, and how our bodies hold and release tension. It offers a space to explore edges—of sensation, control, and emotional depth—within a container of trust and consent.
But impact is not just physical, nor is it confined to kink.
Life constantly offers opportunities to be impacted—by words, gestures, silences, the penetration of another’s gaze. We are shaped by how we are received, held, or denied. The world imprints itself on us in a thousand ways—through relationships, social codes, even the weather.
Engaging in impact play means consciously choosing to expand our capacity for sensation and experience. It is a practice of opening—not just to the physical, but to the full spectrum of what it means to feel and be felt.
Why We Shut Down
Most of us don’t arrive at adulthood with a wide-open heart and body. If we did, life quickly teaches us to guard ourselves.
We shut down when we don’t feel safe.
We shut down when we’ve been hurt before.
We close off when we aren’t sure we’ll be met.
We defend ourselves when we feel judged, misunderstood, or criticized.
We dissociate if we have a history with trauma.
This isn’t a failure; it’s a survival strategy. If your nervous system learned that openness led to harm, of course you’d build walls. If you grew up in an environment where emotions weren’t welcome, why would you expect yourself to easily receive love, sensation, or deep connection?
The problem isn’t that we close. It’s that we forget how to open, even when we most want to.
The Gift of Openness
To be impacted by another—to truly feel and be felt—is an act of courage. It asks us to risk vulnerability, to risk being seen in ways we can’t control.
And this is where the deepest intimacy lives.
The moment when someone’s touch melts a layer of armor you didn’t know you were carrying.
The exchange of breath, of energy, of presence, where you feel yourself land inside your own skin.
The quiet recognition that you are here, alive, fully engaged in the experience of being human—in all its pain, pleasure, and everything in between.
These moments happen when we allow ourselves to feel.
Relearning How to Open
So how do we reclaim the art of being impacted?
It starts with listening—to our bodies, our fears, and our edges.
Notice where you contract. When do you brace, shut down, or numb out when in connection with another? Can you meet those moments with curiosity instead of judgment?
Cultivate safety in your body. You have a choice—you don’t have to force yourself to open. You get to decide when, where, and with whom you soften.
Play with sensation. Physicality can be a portal to emotional depth. Whether through kink, breathwork, or placing a hand on the chest, you can practice feeling in safe and controlled ways.
Allow yourself to be seen. Not just in strength, but in your tenderness, in your messiness, in the places that ache to be met.
Opening doesn’t mean abandoning our boundaries. In fact, we need to know we have a right to our boundaries in order to open. Boundaries allow us to navigate the dance between protection and connection—knowing when to hold, when to let go, and when to let something or someone in.
Relearning how to open to intimacy doesn’t happen in isolation. We need other bodies, hearts, and souls to interact with—friends, lovers, teachers, and sometimes a therapist or a coach.
Living an Impactful Life
To live fully is to be willing to be touched, in every sense of the word.
This is the heart of eroticism, of love, of connection: the ability to be moved.
If we spend our lives resisting impact, we may feel safer, but we also limit how much pleasure, intimacy, and aliveness we can access.
And isn’t that the real risk? Not that we’ll be hurt—but that we’ll go untouched?
So the invitation is this:
Let yourself be impacted.
Let yourself impact others.
Let yourself feel and be felt.
If you’re ready to explore what it means to open—whether in your relationships, your erotic life, or your own body—I offer coaching designed to help you navigate the edges of sensation, trust, and connection. Whether you’re looking to deepen intimacy, expand your capacity for pleasure, or unlearn the shutdown patterns that keep you disconnected, I can help.
Book a free consultation, and let’s begin the journey of feeling—fully, deeply, and without fear.
