Women Who Seem Fine
The women I see have it all together, or they certainly look that way. We look that way, I should say. They are dressed, manicured, on time, and alert. These women wake up early, work late, carry a mental load of plans, to-dos, and worries that would make the average man quake in his boots. They look great. They seem fine.
And in this case, I suppose it takes one to know one, because I immediately see the mental acrobatics it took just to get to this appointment on time. I see the worry and the exhaustion, and as we start to talk about what brings her in, I see the tears. They typically follow the moment in our visit when I ask, “Who knows how much you’re struggling with this?” or “How long have you been feeling this way?” Because for most of us, we’ve been too scared to say these things out loud, preferring to pretend that we’re fine. The tears spill over from a place of struggle, loneliness, and hurt, flowing like a river churning just beneath the surface.
These women tell me they can’t sleep, even though they’re exhausted. Their backs hurt, even though they exercise. They no longer feel at home in their own skin, even though their Apple Watch tells them more than they ever hoped to know about themselves. They feel like they can’t keep up and that it all may come crumbling down at any moment. Some women describe an anxiety that can’t be precisely named.
It’s physical.
The metaphorical weight on women’s shoulders is immense, and it takes a very real toll. The body keeps the score when it comes to traumatic events in our lives, yes, but it also keeps the score of our hypervigilance, our activated nervous systems, and our separation from the rhythms of life that have guided our bodies for millennia. We want quick fixes, but deep down suspect they don’t exist.
The irony is not lost on me that many of my patients are answering emails and checking on kids’ grades at 11:30 at night while simultaneously searching online for the best supplements to help combat fatigue. I am no stranger to the self-sabotaging behaviors that modern life makes so easy—like trading precious hours of sleep for whatever Netflix has “up next” while simultaneously preaching to anyone who will listen on the broad-reaching effects of sleep deprivation. Or rubbing my neck and shoulders in agony while popping an Aleve instead of scheduling time for the gym when I’ve let life sweep me right out of the habit of moving my body.
And yet, I have so much hope. I have hope because I’ve seen women transform, sometimes one baby step at a time, into happier, healthier versions of themselves with guidance and collaboration over time. “I can help” are my favorite words to say, and I know I can because I have been through it too. I know firsthand that, like that river of emotion, the thing we’re after--that sense of health and vigor--must flow through every aspect of our day-to-day lives to be truly felt. Sometimes that comes through small changes, and sometimes through profound ones.
What is non-negotiable for the women I see is the necessity of some sort of change. Achieving, functioning, holding it all together is no longer enough. We remember what it was like to feel vibrant and full of life. The farther we’ve gotten from ourselves, the farther we have drifted from that sense of vitality. My greatest professional joy comes from teaching women about their own natures so they can begin to heal themselves.
Their sleep, relationships, stress, hormones, thoughts, grief, pace of life, and sense of meaning all influence how they feel in their bodies. To learn that the best medicines don’t always come in a bottle liberates the women I see. And when the best medicine for them does come in a bottle, there is clarity around why.
Thoughts, nutrition, relationships, stress, and pace of life all shape physiology more profoundly than many women realize. We can flourish, not just appear to be doing so, as women in modern life, when we make the kind of quiet decisions each day that bring us calm.
Learning to live with life’s inevitable ups and downs, finding the sweet amid the bitter, and loosening our grip on the things we hold onto most tightly often brings the kind of peace that restores our energy, our hope, and our sense of contentment.
We can survive, yes, and even look beautiful doing it. But eventually, most women begin to crave something more.
Affaires de femmes.
The quiet business of being a woman. The invisible labor. The churning beneath the surface. The longing to feel fully ourselves again.