I Thought I Was Ready

My name's Mark, and you're listening to Headstraight, a podcast for teenagers and young adults where we talk about mental health, relationships, and all of the complicated stuff that comes with growing up. The things that you're thinking about, the questions that you're asking, and the stuff that you're just trying to figure out. Hello, you lot, and welcome back. Now today, there's something I wanna talk about, and I think it's worth saying right from the beginning that this might be a bit of a difficult conversation. We're going to be talking about intimacy, about being close to someone, and about what happens when an experience doesn't quite turn out the way that you thought it would.

And I know that for some of you, even hearing me introduce that subject might feel a little uncomfortable. And I understand that. These aren't always easy things to talk about, particularly with an adult. And I suppose there's something slightly awkward about me sitting here talking about them with you as well. But I've had conversations with young people who found themselves trying to make sense of something that happened in a relationship, something that they thought they were ready for, but afterwards they weren't quite sure what to make of it.

And one of the things that I've noticed is how difficult it can be to find the words to explain what you're feeling. Because you might have wanted to be close to that person. You might have felt comfortable with the idea of becoming more intimate. You may have even been looking forward to it. But when it happened, it felt different from how you imagined.

Maybe you've questioned whether you were really ready or found yourself thinking about how you reacted, what you wanted, and whether the other person understood how you were feeling. Now, for some people, those questions can be really upsetting, particularly if they felt frightened, pressured or unable to say what they wanted at the time. But I want to be careful here because I don't know what happened in your life, and I certainly don't want to make assumptions about it. But I do think that we can explore these things in a way that gives you some space to think without expecting you to have all of the answers. You don't have to decide what an experience means just because we're talking about it today.

And if this is something that's happened to you, you don't have to explain it. What I'd really like us to explore is something that comes up quite often when young people talk about relationships and intimacy. How are you supposed to know whether you're ready for something when you can't always know how you're going to feel until you're there? And maybe that's a really good place to start. I think one of the difficulties with being ready for something is that we tend to imagine we'll somehow know when we get there.

Kind of like there's going to be a moment when everything falls into place, when the nerves settle down and we suddenly feel confident about what we're doing. And when it comes to intimacy, I wonder whether that expectation can put a lot of pressure on young people, because there's no shortage of messages about what relationships are supposed to look like. You hear things from friends, see things online, watch how relationships are portrayed in films or TV, and somewhere along the way, you start forming your own ideas about what's normal, what you should be comfortable with, and what being ready is supposed to feel like. But those ideas don't always leave much room for uncertainty. We're talking about something that involves our feelings, our bodies, our relationships with other people, and sometimes a degree of vulnerability that we haven't experienced before.

Of course, there are things that you can know. You might know that you care about the person you're with. You might feel comfortable and safe around them. You might have thought carefully about what you want and made a decision that feels right for you. But feeling ready doesn't mean that you've somehow worked out every possible feeling or reaction that you might have.

And there's another part of this that I think we need to talk about. Sometimes young people feel that they should be ready. Maybe they've been in a relationship for a while and there's an expectation that things will eventually become more intimate. Their friends might be talking about experiences they've had and they don't want be left behind. Or maybe they genuinely like someone and worry that saying that they're not ready might disappoint them.

Now, that's a difficult position to find yourself in because wanting to make someone happy can start influencing decisions that really should be yours. And I think there's a difference between feeling ready to do something that you genuinely want to and feeling that it's probably time that you were ready because of what someone else might expect. You don't have to reach a particular stage in a relationship because you've been together for a certain amount of time, and you definitely don't have to do something just to find out whether you are ready for it. You're allowed to know that you don't want something even if you've never experienced it before. But equally, you can feel comfortable with the idea of intimacy and still be surprised by how you responded when it actually happened.

And I think that's where this conversation becomes a little more complicated. Because what happens when you've thought about all of this? You've made a decision that feels right for you, and then in the moment, changes. Now, when you're experiencing something intimate with another person, your feelings don't necessarily stay the same from beginning to end. So you might begin feeling perfectly comfortable.

You're happy with what's happening. You're enjoying being close to someone, and there's nothing particularly worrying you. But then somewhere along the way, you begin to feel a little differently. Perhaps things are moving quicker than you expected, or you're beginning to feel uncomfortable about what might happen next. You might notice that feeling before you've really worked out what it means.

Because there's a difference between recognizing that you're getting uncomfortable and understanding exactly why that is. I mean, how do you know whether you're just feeling nervous about something new or whether you're starting to realise that you don't actually want to go any further? That's quite a difficult thing to work out, especially when you're in the middle of the experience itself. You're thinking about how you're feeling, wondering whether you want to continue, and maybe trying to work out what the other person is expecting. You might even find yourself thinking that you were perfectly happy a few minutes ago.

So why are you feeling so differently now? Now, of course, people respond to that uncertainty in different ways. Some feel able to say that they'd like to slow down or that they want to stop. Others find that more difficult. They might hesitate, become quiet, or carry on for a little while as they're trying to work out what they actually want.

And there's occasions when someone becomes so overwhelmed that they freeze, finding it difficult to speak or respond at all. But this is important. There's no right way that people react when something feels uncomfortable. Because even when you recognize that something doesn't feel quite right, finding the words to express that can feel surprisingly difficult, especially when you're worried about upsetting somebody that you care about or you're uncertain about how they're going to react. Now, I do want to make something clear here.

You can change your mind at any point. Being comfortable with something earlier doesn't mean that you've agreed to everything that follows. And if someone becomes hesitant, silent or unresponsive, the other person shouldn't assume that that means that they're happy to continue. And we're going to come back to that because I think it's an important part of this conversation. But there's something else that I want to explore first, because what happens when the moment has passed and you find yourself thinking back over what happened?

I think it's surprising how differently things can look when you've had a bit of time to think about them. You might find yourself remembering something that didn't seem particularly important at the time, a moment when you felt uncomfortable or perhaps wanted things to slow down, but couldn't quite find the words to say no. And now looking back, you keep coming back to that moment. I wish I'd said something at the time. I think that can be really difficult to sit with, particularly if you've started giving yourself a hard time about it.

We imagine ourselves being more confident, speaking up, knowing exactly what we wanted. But that's with the benefit of having had time to understand what happened. At the time, you were still trying to make sense of your feelings. Perhaps you were worried about how the other person might react, or you weren't quite sure yourself whether you wanted to continue. There's something else that can make all of this quite complicated.

What if you still really like the person? You care about them, enjoy being with them, and don't particularly want anything to change between you. But you're also thinking about an experience that has left you feeling a little uncertain. You can really like someone and still feel unsure about something that happened between you. And I wonder whether one of the things that makes these situations particularly difficult is the expectation that you should have been able to explain yourself clearly at the time.

That somehow, if you were uncomfortable, you should have known exactly what you wanted and been able to communicate it. And maybe there's something useful in recognizing that you were doing the best that you could to understand what was happening in that particular moment. When we're talking about intimacy, how both people understand and respond to each other is really important too. Feeling comfortable with something at the beginning doesn't mean that your feelings can't change, And if you're uncertain about whether you want to continue, that uncertainty deserves to be taken seriously. You don't need to have a perfect explanation for wanting to slow down or stop, and neither person should have to guess whether the other person is comfortable with what's happening.

But there's another person involved in this experience. When intimacy involves two people, there's another side to the conversation that's worth exploring, because the other person is bringing their own feelings, expectations and experiences into the moment as well. They might be just as nervous as you are. They might be wondering whether they're doing the right thing, whether you're comfortable or whether things are moving at a pace that feels okay for both of you. Now, I want to be a little bit careful here because I don't want to suggest that everybody approaches these situations with the same intentions or that everyone will necessarily be considerate of how the other person feels.

But in a relationship where two people care about each other, I think there's something really important about learning to recognise and respond to each other's feelings. And that brings us to consent. But I wonder whether sometimes we talk about consent in a way that makes it sound like a decision that you make at the beginning, almost as though you've agreed to something and the matter is settled. So consent needs to be something that continues throughout an intimate experience. Both people need to be comfortable with what's happening and freely choosing to take part.

And if one person begins to feel uncertain, that's something worth paying attention to. Now I know that talking about this stuff can feel really awkward. You might worry that asking whether someone is okay will kill the moment or saying that you'd like to slow down will make the other person feel rejected. But I think there's something reassuring about being with a person who makes it easy to say how you're feeling. Someone who can notice when you're becoming a little hesitant and is comfortable with slowing things down.

Who can ask, are you okay with this? And genuinely be interested in the answer. And who understands that if you're unsure, it's perfectly okay to stop and give yourselves some space. And I suppose there's another side to this as well, because just as you'd want someone to be thoughtful about how you're feeling, it's important that you can offer them the same consideration. You might notice that they're becoming a little quieter or seem uncertain about something.

Perhaps you're finding it difficult to tell whether they're still comfortable with what's happening. And I think that's a good moment to slow things down and have a conversation. Now it doesn't have to be complicated. Sometimes asking, are you still okay with this? Can make it much easier for someone to tell you how they're feeling.

And if you're not sure whether they wanna continue, it's important that you stop and check. And if they're not able to give their agreement, then things need to stop. Now, I can see that this might sound straightforward when we're talking about it now, but when you're young, perhaps inexperienced, and trying to navigate feelings that are quite new to you, those conversations can take a bit of getting used to. But being able to talk about what feels okay, what doesn't, and whether you want to continue can make a massive difference on how safe and comfortable you both feel. And there's something I'd like to come back to briefly.

Earlier, we talked about how you might still care about someone, even when something you've experienced together has left you feeling uncertain. And whatever your relationship is with them, it's reasonable to expect your feelings and boundaries to be treated with care and respect. I suppose what I'm getting at is that being ready for intimacy also involves recognising that the other person has their own feelings and boundaries just as you do. But I also realise that talking about these things now doesn't necessarily make it any easier if you've already had an experience that you're still trying to understand. Because when you're left with feelings that you haven't quite made sense of, it can be really difficult to know what to do with them.

Now, you might have spent time thinking about what happened, and maybe you're beginning to understand it a little better. But I wonder whether there's a point when we can get so caught up trying to work everything out that we lose sight of what we actually need. And there's something that I'd like you to think about. You don't have to understand every part of an experience before you can begin to think about what you need now. Instead of feeling that you have to work out exactly what happened, you could start by asking yourself what would help you to feel a little more comfortable going forwards.

For example, you might realise that you'd like to take things more slowly in a relationship. You may want a bit more time before becoming intimate again, or maybe you're beginning to recognise something that you don't feel comfortable with. Because we can sometimes feel that we need to justify our feelings before we're allowed to act on them. That we need a good enough reason to say why we'd rather wait or that we want something to be different. But your comfort matters in its own right.

You don't need to persuade yourself that your feelings are reasonable before taking them seriously. And I suppose part of taking those feelings seriously is giving yourself a chance to understand them a little better. Now, you might be quite happy doing that on your own, just having a bit of time to think things through. But I wonder whether there are times when you've gone over something in your head so many times that you're not really getting anywhere with it. And maybe that's where having a conversation with someone else could be useful.

Now, I get it. That's easier said than done, particularly when we're talking about something as personal as intimacy. I mean, where would you even begin? You might worry about what the other person will think, whether they'll understand you or whether they're going to start asking you questions that you're not ready to answer. And I can understand that.

But I wonder whether there's someone in your life who you could have a conversation with without feeling that you need to explain everything. Someone who's quite good at listening, who can give you a bit of space to work things out rather than immediately jumping in with their own opinions. Because I think there's something quite valuable about being able to say something out loud that until now you've probably only been thinking about. Even if all you can manage is something happened and I'm finding it a bit difficult to get my head around it, that might be enough to just get the conversation started. And if what happened has left you feeling frightened, pressured or concerned about whether your boundaries were respected, I particularly want you to have some support with that.

And if there isn't anyone you feel comfortable approaching, there are people whose jobs it is to listen to young people about exactly these sorts of things. You can start small and take the conversation from there. And there's another possibility that we haven't really talked about yet. You might be wondering whether to have a conversation with a person who you shared the experience with. Now that could be quite difficult too, especially if you're still trying to make sense of what happened for yourself.

But if you feel comfortable and safe having that conversation, it might give you an opportunity to talk about what you were feeling or something that you'd like to be different if you find yourself in a similar situation again. And of course, if talking to them doesn't feel comfortable, there's no reason to push yourself into doing it. You can take your time and find another way of working things through. So as we start to bring this conversation to a close, there's something I'd like us to come back to. Those words that we started with, I thought I was ready.

Because I wonder whether part of the difficulty is that we tend to think of being ready as something that we should be able to decide beforehand. Kind of like once we've made the decision, we should feel confident about it and everything that follows ought to make sense. But I think we're asking a lot of ourselves when we expect that. Our feelings are influenced by what's happening around us, how comfortable we are, and the person that we're sharing that experience with. And those things can change.

Because as we've been talking, I've been thinking about how easily we can turn an experience that didn't go as expected into a question about ourselves. I thought I was ready. So what does it say about me that I felt differently? And I think that's a really difficult question to be left with, especially when you're looking back on something that was personal, maybe important to you, and you're still trying to understand how you feel about it. But I wonder whether we need to be kinder to ourselves in the way that we think about readiness, because you can make a decision that feels right for you at the time and then learn something about yourself that you hadn't anticipated.

And whatever you discover, you're allowed to pay attention to it. The person that you're with has a part to play in all of this as well. Being uncertain about how you feel doesn't mean someone else gets to make the decision for you. Your feelings and your choices still deserve to be respected. And I think there's something quite reassuring about the idea that intimacy can involve discovering things together, provided you're both comfortable, willing and able to be honest about how you're feeling.

Now there's one final thought I'd like to leave you with. You might have genuinely believed that you were ready and you might have been, for everything that you understood and felt at the time. But discovering that you feel differently when something actually happens doesn't mean that you were wrong to have those feelings in the first place. And if something has happened that you're still trying to work out, I hope you give yourself time and space to do that without feeling that you need to have everything worked out straight away. Because the person you are now is allowed to feel differently from the person you imagined you'd be.

And I think that's worth remembering, even when you thought you were ready. So next week, we have a different question. Are you up for it? Of course you are.