Why so many women feel disconnected from their pelvis and why that isn’t a personal failure.
There are parts of the body many of us learn to understand early.
We learn how to use our hands.
We learn how to control our breath.
We learn how to push through fatigue, tension, and discomfort.
And then there is the pelvis.
For many women, the pelvis is the part of the body we learn about last, if we learn about it at all.
Often, it only comes into focus when something feels wrong. Pain. Dysfunction. A diagnosis. A problem to solve.
Rarely is the pelvis introduced as a place of support, orientation, or relationship.
This absence is not accidental.
The pelvis sits at the intersection of medicine, culture, productivity, and shame. It holds reproductive organs, elimination pathways, sexual sensation, and deep postural support. Because of this, it is often medicalized, minimized, or avoided altogether.
When a part of the body is not clearly named or understood, many of us learn to relate to it indirectly.
Through tension.
Through control.
Through disconnection.
This doesn’t mean we’ve failed to listen to our bodies.
It means we were never given a clear way to begin.
Many women I work with describe feeling “out of touch” with their pelvis. They may feel unsure where it is, what it does, or how to sense it without judgment. Some feel nothing at all. Others feel too much.
Both experiences make sense.
Disconnection is often an adaptation, a way the body learned to function in environments that required endurance, compliance, or constant output.
Reconnection, then, is not about fixing what’s broken.
It’s about orientation.
Orientation begins with knowing where you are.
It can be as simple as noticing how you’re sitting right now. Feeling the surface beneath you. Sensing where your weight is supported. Becoming aware of the space your body occupies without trying to change it.
This kind of awareness does not require anatomy charts or technical instruction. It doesn’t ask you to optimize or improve.
It asks you to notice.
When the pelvis is approached this way, as a place to meet rather than manage, something subtle shifts.
Not because the body suddenly changes, but because the relationship does.
Understanding the pelvis doesn’t have to start with muscles or mechanics. It can start with simple curiosity. With permission to feel without interpreting. With the recognition that this part of the body has been carrying you, quietly, for a long time.
Learning to relate to the pelvis is not about mastering it.
It’s about acknowledging that it was never properly introduced.
This work, slowing down, orienting, and listening, is at the heart of what I explore in my current offerings, including Coming Home to Your Pelvis. But more than that, it’s an invitation many women are already feeling in their own way.
An invitation to stop rushing past parts of themselves that were never given language.
An invitation to begin, gently, where they are.