For the first time in my life, I no longer feel like I’m “working.”

What I do now fills me. It feeds my mind, moves my body, stirs my soul. I find myself writing without effort. Sharing without hesitation. Creating from a place of presence and purpose that feels — finally — deeply, soulfully aligned.

I remember the night clearly. She was beautiful, kind, and she really wanted me. We had been dancing, drinking, kissing — everything was lined up. I should have felt lucky, excited, confident.

But instead, I felt weak. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

I had drunk almost 200ml of whiskey trying to calm myself down, trying to override the stress and fear. I didn’t want to lose my erection again. I didn’t want to feel like I always did — not enough, not man enough, not capable of giving or receiving.

For years, I immersed myself in yoga, dance, meditation—genuine practices that brought me closer to my breath, my body, and tangible moments of presence. I could feel a sense of flow while dancing, or a deep stillness during meditation. But when it came to building close relationships—the ones that really mattered—something still felt off, though I couldn't quite name it at the time.