The Pleasure Sequence
What's your pleasure?
Somewhere along the way, many women learned to treat pleasure as a reward.
Something we earned after the work was done.
After everyone else was taken care of.
After the laundry was folded, the deadlines met, the calls returned, the meals made, the appointments booked, and the emotional labour quietly carried.
But lately I’ve been wondering what would happen if pleasure wasn’t the reward.
What if it was the foundation?
What if the things that nourish us weren’t the last thing on the list, but the first?
As I move through midlife, I find myself paying closer attention to what genuinely makes me feel alive. Not what looks good from the outside. Not what I’m supposed to want. The things that create a sense of fullness from the inside out.
I’ve started thinking of it as my pleasure sequence.
The essential ingredients that help me feel connected to myself, my life and the people I love.
Not luxuries…Necessities!
For me… it begins with family.
Time with family, sometimes around a table or outside…Long conversations. Shared laughter. Being with the people who know my history and love me anyway. There is something deeply regulating about being in the company of those who feel like home.
Then there is love.
Not just romantic love but I won’t pretend that being deeply loved by someone special isn’t part of my equation. There is pleasure in being seen and in being chosen. You know, having someone around who loves your existence and loves you for you...someone who knows your languages and how you want to be loved. Midlife has taught me that love isn’t about grand gestures, it’s about feeling safe enough to exhale…ya, that part.
Food is another one.
Not perfection. Not rules. Just good food.
Whole foods. Real foods. Food that still resembles what nature intended before it became a product. My go to is usually fried plantain in coconut oil, legumes, fresh fruit and good protein. I want food that energizes rather than depletes and prepared with care. There is pleasure in nourishment and for years I underestimated how much my body craved simplicity.
Purpose lives near the top of the list too.
I have learned that I am happiest when I am creating, building, writing, learning, sharing and moving energy toward something that lights me up. I don’t think purpose has to be grandiose, it simply needs to matter to you.
There is a special kind of pleasure that comes from being engaged with your life instead of merely managing it…I mean you want to enjoy your life right!?
And then there is my home.
I used to think decluttering was about organization.
Now I see it as an intentional act of self-respect.
Every unnecessary item requires a tiny piece of attention. Every “maybe someday” object occupies space. Every pile asks a question.
As I have released things that no longer fit my life, I’ve noticed something unexpected: I can hear myself better.
A clear space really does create a clearer mind.
The older I get, the less interested I am in managing excess and the more interested I am in creating room for what matters.
If I’m honest, grief has been one of my greatest teachers when it comes to pleasure.
Over the last year, loss has reshaped my understanding of time.
Grief has a way of clearing the room. It strips away the trivial and leaves you staring directly at what matters and it asks questions you can no longer avoid.
What are you waiting for?
What are you postponing?
What are you sacrificing that may never be returned?
For months I’ve moved through the heaviness of loss. Some days felt productive. Some days felt impossible. Many days felt like I was simply carrying more than my heart was designed to hold.
Then I went to Mexico.
There was no grand revelation waiting for me there.
Just sun on my skin.
Good food.
Long conversations with people I love.
Quiet moments alone.
Coffee in the morning without rushing.
Walks without a destination.
Laughter that arrived unexpectedly.
And something happened…I exhaled.
Not the kind of exhale that lasts a few seconds.
The kind that comes from somewhere deep inside you, he kind you don’t realize you’ve been holding for months.
Being away reminded me of who I am when I’m not carrying the weight of responsibility every moment of the day.
It reminded me that pleasure isn’t frivolous.
It’s restorative.
It’s medicine!!!
It’s how we return to ourselves.
I came home with a deeper understanding that pleasure cannot remain an afterthought in my life anymore. It cannot live at the bottom of a to-do list waiting for everything else to be finished.
Because everything else is never finished.
There will always be another task, another obligation and another reason to delay joy.
What grief taught me and what Mexico confirmed is that pleasure deserves a place on the calendar.
Not someday.
Now.
But perhaps the biggest shift has been changing the language I use around my time.
I caught myself saying “I’m being selfish with my time.”
What I really meant was that I needed space.
Space to think.
Space to rest.
Space to read.
Space to sit in silence.
Space to do absolutely nothing productive.
I’ve stopped calling that selfish.
Because there is nothing selfish about caring for yourself.
There is nothing selfish about protecting your energy.
There is nothing selfish about scheduling pleasure.
And the truth is, when I don’t make time for myself, everyone eventually gets a depleted version of me including me!
When I do make time for myself, I benefit and so does everyone else.
Midlife has invited me into a different relationship with pleasure.
It’s less about escape and more about presence.
Less about consumption and more about connection.
Less about earning and more about allowing…and trust me, I’m in the middle of the hustle.
But I’m learning that pleasure isn’t frivolous.
It’s information.
It’s guidance.
It’s often pointing us toward the life that wants to be lived.
And maybe that’s the invitation to stop treating pleasure like a guilty secret and stop apologizing for wanting a beautiful life.
No more postponing ourselves until someday because someday has a way of arriving faster than we think.
And if I’ve learned anything lately, it’s this:
A life rich in pleasure is rarely built from extraordinary moments.
It’s built from ordinary moments that we finally decide are worthy of our attention.
These days, I don’t measure a good life by how much I accomplished.
I measure it by how often I felt present enough to experience it.
How often I sat with people I love.
How often I nourished my body.
How often I created something meaningful.
How often I rested without guilt.
How often I allowed beauty, joy, love, and pleasure to interrupt the endless pursuit of productivity.
Grief taught me that life is fragile.
Pleasure is teaching me how to live it.
And perhaps that is what midlife is offering me now, not an invitation to do more, but permission to enjoy more:)
Note to self: No more postponing myself… k!?
Exhale.
Choose pleasure not as an escape from life but as a way of fully participating in it.
Let me know…what is your pleasure sequence?
