I wake lazily as the Mediterranean sun shines through my window. I roll out of bed and gaze at my sleeping husband who opens his eyes and tells me he loves me. I open the blue shutters inside our white stucco summer home in Mykonos, Greece to allow the singing birds to fly in the fresh sea air. The pink and yellow flowers outside our house begin to sway, carving out a path for the smell of Nescafe to float in signaling that breakfast is ready on the patio.
Later that day, I start to prepare for the evening’s activities. A quick glance in the mirror before I leave confirms that I am flawless, polished, and in great physical shape. The eyes that glisten back at me are bright and sharp with no evidence of fatigue. My skin is tan and glowing, my hair healthy and perfectly straight. I am 37 years old, feeling that life is fun, uncomplicated, and without conflict or disappointment. Life has been good to me. I walk from our house into the Mykonos night and stare at the sky, reveling in the fact that my childhood self could so accurately dream up the fantasy that has become my adult life. I step into the club and the intensity of the music puts its arms around me and we start to dance…
In actuality, I am jolted awake at 5:45 am on a Saturday by my half-naked three year-old daughter. She is staring at me at eye level and says, “Mommy, where is the iPad?” At first I think Medusa has risen with her mass of dark brown curls so unkempt that they look like snakes. There is white paste smeared on her face. I stumble out of bed, my eyes still swollen with sleep, to search for said iPad. The original Tickle Me Elmo is giggling inappropriately and blocks my way. I notice an empty Greek yogurt container on the table and look inside only to find mold growing in it. I look from my daughter’s face to the blue/green mold in the container, to the pigeons squawking on my NYC window ledge and lament that this is the closest I’m getting to Mykonos this summer. After I seduce my daughter with the iPad, she sits quietly on the couch and plays Make-A-Fairy – my queue that it’s time to sneak out to the gym. I consider it a good morning because I didn’t have to put my gym clothes on in the hallway, lest the child change her mind before I can get out the door. I make a run for the door but trip over Elmo and hit the floor at an odd angle. I see my distorted reflection in one of those baby mirrors that was lying around. I am confused for a moment and swear I hear the song “Once in a Lifetime” by the Talking Heads playing somewhere in the background. The woman who glares back at me looks tired, appears a little disheveled and worn. She certainly looks older than I expected – white hairs have crept in on her head and fine lines have settled around her eyes. I look at myself and think how did I get to this place? Who am I? What happened to the “me” I used to know? I come to my senses and remember it’s not 1987 anymore. The time I had always dreamed about has arrived. I am a grown-up, with children, a career and responsibilities. I lament on the divide between what I thought my life was going to be like and what it actually is. The life I spent so many hours dreaming about as a child doesn’t look anything like the Danielle Steele novel I imagined it would be.
Many of my female patients come in and talk about their experiences with depression and anxiety. They become teary eyed, feel panicked and paralyzed. They complain of frustration and feel as if nothing is their own more anymore. They feel overwhelmed, and stretched thin. They are unsure about shedding their former selves in order to take on the new and more challenging roles of wife, mother, executive, employee and daughter to aging parents. There is a lot of sadness that comes with accepting this process. They isolate, keep things inside, give up on themselves for the good of others, and deny themselves sleep and good nutrition because it is easier to eat on the go, get up early or stay up late to get everything done. They become anxious and irritable as a result. They lose sight of the bigger picture and don’t enjoy the very life they worked so hard at to achieve.
This afternoon before I sat down to write, my wonderful husband gave me a warm hug and his encouraging smile. My daughter (whose name is obviously not Medusa) did allow me 15 minutes of quality snuggle time and my miracle son who was born at less than 2lbs ran up to me and said “MOMMY” (finally…!) I realized that although my dream looks a little different than originally anticipated, I have actually attained it. I have the identity I set out to find, even though the packaging looks a little less sleek than what I imagined. I am reminded that satisfaction comes from the small moments of pleasure, not from the unrealistic and unsustainable fantasy I had imagined all those years ago. We find meaning in our relationships, and the experiences we have with the people we love. True fulfillment comes from overcoming obstacles, being a sincere friend, a loving wife and mother.
I tell my patients that taking some time for themselves, eating healthy and exercising goes a long way. I urge them to find comfort in the stories and friendships of other women who are further along on their journeys. I encourage them to explore their childhood fantasies so they can identify their needs in their current life, and see how their vulnerabilities have been dressed up.
I notice out of the corner of my eye, a black patent leather, high heel shoe with a red sole hanging out of one of many strollers that crowd my entrance way. My daughter has strapped herself and her brother in tightly. She is wearing my shoe and has on one of my sequined tops. I have to look very closely to see that there is a hint of white paste smeared across the toe. My first reaction is to get upset, but I take a moment, shake it off and chuckle, thinking to myself that I hope they enjoy the ride.