The Estrogen Plot Twist: How a Whisper of Hormone Turned the Lights Back On

25 mg of estradiol, one confused libido, and a faint memory of feeling like a goddess

I wasn’t expecting fireworks. Honestly, I was just hoping for “slightly less irritable and maybe not so dry.” That was the bar. If I could stop wanting to throat punch people for chewing too loudly, I would’ve called it a win.

And truth be told, I was nervous to even try estrogen again. Several months back, I did a round with Premarin and—let’s just say—my body did not RSVP yes to that party. It was a nightmare. Mood swings, weird symptoms, and a general feeling that my hormones were being DJ’d by a drunk toddler. (Read that story here: https://hippiegirlmedia.com/blog/my-date-with-mrs-ed-a-premarin-horror-story ) So this time, I tiptoed in with a bioidentical form of estradiol, hoping for the best but fully prepared to be disappointed.

Four days into the tiniest dose—a literal whisper of hormone—something shifted. My brain unclenched. My mood softened. And, plot twist, I started thinking about sex again. Not in a “must mount something immediately” way. More like… a warm hum in the background. A gentle knock from the part of me I thought had packed up and moved to some remote cabin in Alaska without leaving a forwarding address.

Turns out estrogen does more than keep you from turning into a human cactus.

I thought brain fog was just part of getting older. I thought low energy was just life now. I thought my lack of interest in anything remotely sexual was because men are exhausting and I have a comfy bed. But no. Turns out, my hormones were tapped out like an overworked bartender on a Friday night.

I had been blaming stress, age, diet, TikTok attention span, you name it. Never once did I think, “Hey, maybe the gas tank is just empty.” That would’ve been too logical.

Four Days In, I Felt… Different.

Is this what being regulated feels like? Because it’s suspiciously peaceful. The first sign? I wasn’t annoyed at everything. The grocery store was still a hellscape, but I didn’t fantasize about ramming my cart into the guy blocking the aisle with his existential crisis. My shoulders dropped from ear level. I laughed at something stupid without immediately following it up with an eye roll.

And then I caught my reflection and thought, “Huh. She’s still got it.” Not in a delusional Instagram influencer way, but in a “maybe I don’t look like the villain in a Victorian orphan story” kind of way.

Libido Is a Funny Thing (Until It Isn’t)

So… am I horny or just happy? I wasn’t exactly ready to start swiping right, but I noticed a shift. My body felt… alive. Music sounded better. I caught myself dancing in the kitchen like I used to. I felt skin-hungry again—not necessarily for someone else, but for myself.

It wasn’t about a partner. It wasn’t even about sex in the traditional sense. It was about remembering what desire feels like when it’s not buried under stress, fatigue, and Netflix binges.

No Partner, No Problem (Okay, Maybe a Tiny Problem)

Celibacy is cute until your hormones show up with a bullhorn. Let’s be clear: I’m not diving headfirst into the dating pool. That shallow end is filled with red flags and podcast bros who think “alpha male” is a career path. But now that my body is sending little “hey girl” signals again, I’m figuring out how to honor them without inviting chaos.

Cute lingerie for me? Yes, please. A couple of questionable late-night Amazon purchases? Don’t judge me.

Hormones Don’t Have to Be Scary (But They’re Not a Magic Wand Either)

Consult your doctor, not your coworker Karen who got hers from Mexico. This isn’t me saying, “Run out and grab some estradiol like it’s a flash sale at Target.” Hormone therapy isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution, and it’s not without risks. And full disclosure—I’m not a doctor, a chemist, or anyone’s guru. I think the difference for me is that this time I’m using a bioidentical form instead of Premarin, but again… for all I know, it could just be timing, dosage, or sheer dumb luck.

If you’ve been feeling like a shell of yourself and can’t figure out why? It’s worth a conversation with your doctor. And if they dismiss you, find another one. You don’t have to accept “that’s just aging” as a diagnosis. Sometimes it’s not you—it’s your chemistry.

Wrap-Up: Maybe You’re Not Broken. Maybe You’re Just Underfueled.

If a quarter milligram of the right hormone can flip the breaker switch back on, why not at least check the wiring? I spent years thinking I was just tired, over it, and past my prime. Turns out, I was just running on fumes.

Now? The lights are back on, the music’s playing, and I’m not saying the party’s started… but the guest list is under review.

xo,

Jade