For years, I carried a heavy secret. Each time my partner reached for me in the quiet of the night, I painted on a smile, masking my discomfort. The truth? My body wasn’t responding the way it once did. Womanhood dryness had quietly stolen the joy from our intimate moments, leaving me feeling disconnected and hollow. I became a master at hiding my struggle, putting on a brave face while my heart ached. Inside, I was unravelling, wrestling with guilt for not being honest.
I worried my partner might think I was less, less desirable, less whole. The fear of him turning away kept me silent. Intimacy, once a source of closeness, became a painful reminder of what I’d lost. There was no ease, no warmth, just a void where connection should have been. I started dodging those tender moments, blaming exhaustion or stress. Over time, the gap between us widened, and though we shared a home, we felt worlds apart. Continue Reading.