The first one told me to drink a glass of wine and relax.
I wasn't tense. I was in pain.
The second one said "use more lube." Like I hadn't already tried every brand on the shelf. I literally said to her face, "Am I supposed to reapply lube in the middle of sex every five minutes?!" She just shrugged.
The third one prescribed birth control pills and said they'd help with dryness. They didn't.
The fourth one, a female OB, suggested Xanax. And more lube.
3 years. Four doctors. Not a single one said the word "atrophy." Not a single one explained what was actually happening to my body. I got patted on the head like a child and told "it's just menopause, you'll get through it."
I was starting to believe them. That was the real mistake.
I was starting to accept that this was just my life now. The pain. The dryness. The burning. The dead bedroom. The distance. The guilt. I was being conditioned to think that wanting to feel good was somehow too much to ask.
If this happened to men, there would be clinics on every corner.