Do you feel guilty for the fantasies that don’t include your husband or just relieved they finally returned?

I was having a conversation with my youngest sister, and somehow don’t ask me how we ended up talking about libido. Mine, specifically.

I don’t remember what I said. Or at least, to spare her embarrassment, I’ll say I don’t remember. But whatever it was, it made her pause and say, Please don’t write any of that in your blog.

She was serious. I’m going to send my friends to your blog, she said. Please don’t say anything that will embarrass me. They’ll know I’m your sister.

I laughed. But the moment stuck. Because here’s the thing: if we’re afraid to talk about libido…especially during menopause…how will we ever know what’s normal? What’s possible? What’s true? How will we share, educate… learn.

My menopausal sisters…biological and spiritual…often don’t share what they’re going through. Not because they don’t want to, but because they’re afraid…

Afraid of being judged.
Afraid of sounding “unladylike.”
Afraid of saying something that doesn’t fit in the neat little box of what menopause is supposed to look like.

And libido? That’s probably one of the messiest boxes of all.

Some women lose it completely. For others, it flickers and fades. Some feel no change at all. It stays steady and untouched.

But for women like me, it vanishes. And then… it comes roaring back with a vengeance. For some, it returns on its own. But for others, like me, it comes back through HRT. And when it does?

It doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t care who you’re married to. It just wants.

It’s confusing. It’s exhilarating. It’s the ultimate fog lift. I’ve coined that term: Fog Lift. It’s the moment when the hormonal haze clears and you remember who you are. You remember why you love your husband. You remember what desire feels like…not just emotionally, but physically.

It’s not always convenient. It doesn’t always arrive with a warning. But when it comes, it’s real.

And libido? Libido is the ultimate Fog Lift.

So when my sister said, Don’t write about that, I understood. I really did. She wasn’t trying to censor me. She was trying to protect herself.

Because if I write about my libido, her friends might read it. They might laugh. They might whisper. They might say, Is that what she’s feeling? Is that what your sister’s going through?

Or they might judge me. And that’s okay too…because I remember when I was someone who judged.

I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Until it came roaring back.

Now I write so no one has to feel alone when it does.

I believe that if we don’t talk about it, we stay in the dark. We are stuck in the fog. And we miss the chance to connect, to learn and to flourish together.

I’ve also coined another term: Menopausy. It’s the emotional unpredictability of menopause…the mood swings, the hormonal surges, the moments when you feel like you’re losing your mind.

It’s not just hot flashes and night sweats. It’s the ache. The rage. The desire. The silence.

And libido lives inside that chaos.

Now here’s the part that really embarrassed my sister: My desires wander far from home. They are unruly.

I told her the urges don’t arrive neatly. They don’t say, Let’s focus only on your husband. No, my friends. They show up wild, uninvited, and sometimes inconvenient.

They whisper about strangers. They resurrect old crushes. They drift into fantasies that have nothing to do with marriage… and everything to do with me.

It doesn’t mean I don’t love my husband. It doesn’t mean I’ll act on it. It just means desire showed up differently. And that I believe is what scared her. Not the desire itself, but maybe the fact that I wasn’t ashamed of it.

Apparently, libido doesn’t have a husband radar. It has a man radar. If you know what I mean.

That’s what made her blush. That’s what made her say, Please don’t write that.

But I say: write it. Because it’s true.

The urges aren’t linear. They don’t follow rules. They don’t wait for permission. They just… show up.

And if we’re too embarrassed to say it we’ll never know how many women feel the same way.

If I don’t say it… don’t write about it… it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.

It just means you don’t know it.

So no, I won’t filter out the symptoms that feel “improper.” I won’t pretend my body is neat and tidy…or perfect. But apparently, it’s perfectly aligned with who I am today.

I won’t write for approval. I write because it matters. Because experience teaches what silence wants to keep buried.

I’ll write for truth. Because someone out there is wondering if she’s a terrible person. If she’s the only one who feels this way. If her desires are shameful. And she deserves to know that they are not. And she is not alone.

My libido is high right now. Should I be embarrassed to say that? Or maybe it’s not the libido that’s embarrassing…just the thoughts it drags in with it.

According to my sister, I should filter. I should keep it private. I should protect the image.

But I say: libido is information. It’s not a scandal. It’s not a secret. It’s a signal from the body that something is shifting, waking up and returning.

And if we only share the symptoms that sound proper, we’ll never know the ones that are real.

So yes, I’ll write about it. I’ll write about the awkward conversations, the unexpected surges, the moments when I look at my husband and think, Oh. There you are.

Because menopause isn’t the end. It’s a beginning. And libido is part of that beginning.

To my sister: I love you. I won’t embarrass you. But I will tell the truth. Because truth is what sets us free. Truth is what lifts the fog. Truth is what lets us flourish.

And if your friends read this and blush? Good. Maybe they’ll finally talk about it too.

And maybe there are some women who aren’t going through this. And they are wondering what I’m talking about. That’s okay too.

Now you know it’s a thing.

And, by the way…I did tone this down for my sister.
But that won’t happen often. :)