I WASN'T "IN MY FEMININE." I WAS SEDATED.

I did a lot of crying over the past few years. I felt everything. Or at least I thought I did.

I was weepy, sensitive, slow. Taking long stretches off. Sleeping ten hours a night and calling it restorative.

I just figured I had finally entered my soft girl era like the girls on TikTok told me. This is exactly where I should be, I thought. I’m in my 40s. It’s probably perimenopause (a perfect scapegoat for loads of things — we’ll get into that another time). It’s normal. I’ve been running for so long, maybe slowing down is a good thing.

Maybe I’m finally in my feminine.

But secretly it felt like the curtain call on my drive, my spark, and my edge. And I fucking hated it.

Because with that softness came complacency. I wasn’t horny for new challenges like that 90-minute SoulCycle class I used to live for, or pitching the New York Times for the 95343059th time even though I never, ever hear back.

Coincidentally, just as I was becoming softer and softer, my drinking had also picked up.

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