Masturbation is one of the most universal and paradoxically unspoken human behaviours, particularly among men. Depending on which study you cite, anywhere from 70% to 95% of men masturbate regularly, with frequency peaking in adolescence and early adulthood. In a 2017 survey, over 70% of urban Indian men admitted to regular self-stimulation. Global surveys like the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior (US) show that men aged 18–29 average 3–5 times per week, with frequency gradually tapering but never quite vanishing.
In short, masturbation is a
routine part of male life. We give it time,
focus, energy, and attention. It becomes enmeshed in our daily rhythms, serving various
purposes: relief, distraction, boredom, stress reduction, or just plain
physical urge. It doesn’t require planning. It doesn’t ask for permission. It
slips into the background of our lives so smoothly, we stop even noticing it.
And maybe that’s the point where it deserves to be noticed.
I’m a 34-year old man. And like
most men, I’ve masturbated almost daily for years. My patterns have varied, less
when I’ve been in relationships, more during isolated phases. Sometimes for
desire. Sometimes for sleep. Sometimes for nothing at all.
But then, a few weeks ago, I
just stopped.
There was no vow. No challenge.
No calendar mark. Just... a pause. Initially, I felt the familiar pressure – the
itch to reach for the old reflex. But I didn’t. Not out of strength, but
apathy. A few days passed. Then a week. Then two. And suddenly I realized
something strange: I didn’t even want
to do it anymore.
But that wasn’t all. Alongside
the abstinence came a series of changes
– subtle at first, and then undeniable:
- My focus sharpened. My thoughts became clearer, my memory crisper.
- I began feeling more present, more sensitive. Not in a reactive way, but in a conscious one.
- My body held more energy. Not jittery. Just available.
- There was restlessness too. A kind of coiled fire. Not frustration, but a drive I didn’t quite know how to channel.
There were also physical sensations – a slight ache –
the so-called "blue balls".
But even those passed. The longer I went, the easier it became. It wasn’t
willpower anymore. I just called it a new habit. But as I dug deeper, I
realized that it was something more elemental. It was a sense of reorientation.
Curious, I began to read. And
what I found startled me – not because it was shocking, but because it gave
words to what I had already started feeling:
- Dopamine Reset: Masturbation, especially with porn, floods your brain with dopamine. Done frequently, it can lead to desensitization. Abstaining allows your receptors to reset, restoring your baseline sensitivity to pleasure and motivation.
- Testosterone Surge: Some studies show that abstaining for around 7 days can cause a short-term increase in testosterone – linked to drive, assertiveness, and vitality.
- Energy Transmutation: Many men report that sexual energy, when not released, gets converted into creativity, ambition, and physical performance. I felt this too. That restless energy began to fuel workouts, ideas, words.
- Emotional Rewiring: Masturbation can be a form of emotional regulation. We reach for it when anxious, bored, sad, or just tired. Without it, those emotions have to be felt. It’s uncomfortable at first. But over time, it builds emotional muscle.
For something so common, masturbation is almost never discussed,
especially in Indian culture. It's joked about in hostels and among teenagers,
but serious, nuanced, non-judgmental
conversations are rare.
And yet it’s an inherent urge. Testosterone kicks
in at puberty. Fantasies begin. Exploration happens. It’s natural. But when
does nature become habit? And when does habit become compulsion? That’s where
the line between physical need and
addiction appears. There are a few common signs of dependency:
- You need porn to feel anything.
- You masturbate multiple times a day and still feel unsatisfied.
- It becomes your default stress release.
- It replaces emotional connection or real intimacy.
- It affects sleep, productivity, or social life.
This isn’t just about semen. It’s about dopamine loops, shame cycles, and
escapism. Going without doesn’t make you a monk. It makes you aware. Your mind clears. Your instincts feel
stronger. Your self-control grows – not in repression, but in presence. You stop being tugged by impulse. You start
owning your direction.
In his book “Secrets of Shiva”, Devdutt Pattnaik
talks about how Shiva's controlled abstinence gives him cosmic power. He's not
celibate out of fear – but because his energy is focused inward. In Hindu
mythology, abstaining creates heat – tapas. The rishis practiced it.
Shiva embodies it. There are even incidents such as Hanuman and Rishi
Bharadwaj’s accidental ejaculations, displaying that abstinence keeps men in a
state of perpetual “on the edge”. It
also means that these men are always hyper-aware and active. Always at the
pre-orgasmic awareness.
Abstinence doesn’t kill desire. It charges it. It makes you alert.
Watchful. Deep.
I’m not advocating lifelong abstinence. This isn’t “NoFap evangelism.”
I’m not saying masturbation is bad. It isn’t. In moderation and with
mindfulness, it’s healthy and enjoyable. But I do think we’ve become too
passive with our own impulses. And when you go without, you begin to see:
- Emotional clarity
- Energy reserve
- Rebalanced dopamine
- Rekindled motivation
- Heightened desire – not constant stimulation, but focused hunger
However, there are risks associated with total abstinence as well.
Irritability, aggression, sleep disturbances, loneliness, and emotional
bottlenecking (if not expressed elsewhere) are common risks of abstinence. The
solution isn’t to ban yourself or indulge endlessly. The solution is to ask, “why am I doing this right now?”
If the answer is boredom, stress, or avoidance – pause. If the
answer is conscious desire – go ahead. The act doesn’t define you. The
awareness does.
This journey didn’t start as a resolution. It started with noticing.
Noticing how much of my energy was automated. How often I reached for comfort
instead of connection. And how that small shift – of doing nothing – changed
the way I relate to everything.
You don’t need to go cold turkey. You just need to be conscious.
