The Body Remembers, the Soul Creates: Overcoming Self-Doubt with Embodied Healing

by Dr. Denise Renye

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” ― Sylvia Plath

Self-doubt is a quiet thief. It sneaks in through the cracks of our conditioning, burrowing into the soft tissue of our dreams. It tells us we are too much, not enough, too late, too uncertain. And it doesn’t only rob us of our art—it siphons the energy we need to grow into who we really are.

In my clinical work and my own embodied practices, I’ve come to understand self-doubt not just as a cognitive pattern, but as a deeply somatic experience. It lives in the body—a constriction in the chest, a clenching in the gut, a hesitancy in the voice. These physical cues are often the body’s memory of shame, trauma, or early experiences where expression wasn’t safe.

If you were told your voice was too loud, your desire too strong, your creativity too chaotic, then your nervous system may have learned to dial it down to survive. But surviving is different from thriving. And creativity—the truest kind, the kind that comes from the depths of soul—is essential for thriving.

In a world that constantly asks us to be palatable, productive, and predictable, reclaiming creativity is a radical act of self-trust. This is especially true when it comes to our relationships, our sexuality, and our sense of self.

As a psychologist and sex therapist, I witness how self-doubt can silence not only a person’s creative expression but their erotic voice, their intuitive knowing, their boundaries, their pleasure. Creativity and sexuality are both about vitality, connection, and liberation. When we numb one, we often numb the other.

So how do we begin to disarm self-doubt?

We start by listening. Not to the critic, but to the body. To the whispers of longing. To the quiet yes that wants to emerge. We practice embodiment so we can feel our truth, not just think about it. We notice where the doubt lives in the body and tend to it with compassion, not judgment.

We surround ourselves with spaces that don’t ask us to shrink.

We grieve the times our creativity wasn’t welcomed.

And we practice choosing our aliveness over our fear.

Creativity doesn’t only belong to artists—it belongs to everyone. It belongs to the parent inventing new ways to connect with their child. To the lover discovering new ways to touch. To the survivor learning how to trust again. To the soul rediscovering its voice.

This is why I teach embodiment. Why I help clients reconnect to their inner knowing. Why I believe trauma work, sex therapy, and creative expression are all siblings. Because healing isn't about becoming someone new—it's about remembering who you were before self-doubt took hold.

Your creativity is sacred. Your voice matters. Your aliveness is not too much.

Let’s make room for all of it.