It takes a lot to stun me these days.
After 30 years in practice I like to think I've heard it all, or most of it, by now. That's not to say I'm not deeply touched or inspired by the work that I do, but honestly, there isn't much that surprises me in terms of human behavior and relationships. I have been honored to share the sacred space and witness the emotional journey of many who trust me to do so.
In my work with postpartum women I am particularly drawn to their unique plight as they struggle to find themselves in the mirror, when all they see is an unfamiliar and quite chaotic reflection. When they hold this mirror close to their faces, some see a shell of their former self. Some see the part of themselves they miss and long for. Others see what life would be like if they had never decided to have this baby. Wallowing in a world that does not embrace a mother's ambivalence is not good for the soul and many are thrust into a sort of rebellious submission. They are angry, they are tired, they are misunderstood. But they say nothing, they look perfect, they play the game.
I am quite familiar with this game. So I am taken aback when the rules change. And it seems the rules are changing in a most unexpected way. In fact, I cannot even believe I am writing this.
This week, a young mother of a 7 month old baby boy shared something in our session that truly dumbfounded me. And, if truth be told, made me uncomfortable. So I held my breath and listened for more information before responding.
"I had a good week. I'm feeling better; crying less. On Monday after I got my hair cut, oh and my Botox injection, I was on my way to....."
What? Your Botox injection? You're 32 years old. Why are you injecting Botox? Are you kidding me?
I have to admit, I'm rather uninformed when it comes to cosmetic procedures. I've been blessed with both good genes and an 80 year old mother who is not only gorgeous and vibrant but also my greatest mentor. She has taught me, through her good living and her good choices, that aging gracefully is something worth striving for. So I take my 57 year old face, lined with experience, with me to work every day and gaze into the warm, frightened eyes of young women who talk to me about life and death and the agony of getting through just one more day. Rarely do I pay much attention to how they women look, beyond the fact that they almost always look much better than they feel.
So when I hear "Botox" coming out of the mouth of a new young mother who is struggling to balance the onslaught of demands, I simply do not get it.
But what stunned me was that this was the 4th person this week who mentioned it. Really? Are we going to be talking about Botox now? In therapy? Is this the direction that self-care is going? Is this what we mean when we talk about self-nurturance? Mind-body connection? Renewal? Adjusting to life transitions? Okay, what is really going on here?
Women are deciding to inject this toxin into their young, already-smooth faces. And these are really pretty faces. By now we all know that Botox is a poison produced by the bacteria that causes botulism.
Ouch.
A couple of the women who reported they got the injections (apparently the forehead of these sweet faces is the first to go) actually resisted taking the antidepressant that we were previously discussing in response to their persistent depressive symptoms. "I don't want to put chemicals into my body." Um, right.....
But perhaps the most disturbing part of this (risky?) trend is that I have no idea what my role is here. So I explore:
"Tell me about your decision to inject your face with Botox."
"OMG you should have seen my wrinkles. I looked like an old lady." (Like me, you mean?) "They do it everywhere, you know. I mean, I go to the place where I get my nails done. And iff you pay cash, some doctor will do it right there. There's usually a line, ha, but it's worth the wait."
Yikes.
So then we talk about safety, certification, credentials, precautions, risks, making good decisions, injecting a poison that paralyzes your face (!), magic cures, side effects, etc. And I cannot believe we are talking about this.
It saddens me, it worries me, and it perplexes me. Did they not have good mothers? Am I just old-fashioned and out of touch? Do we live in a society that is reinforces this monster, this emphasis on superficial and desperate measures in the name of eternal beauty? Why can't they see how beautiful they are and if they cannot, how is this the answer? But these questions are clearly beyond the scope of this post.
For now, I sit and listen. I cannot help but try to encourage an alternative way to embrace their transition to motherhood that is less dangerous and more wholesome. I agree to accompany them on their journey, whatever direction it takes them, and provide my well thought-out guidance. But how will I guide them if they are making choices that I think are not in their best interest but are still choices that, ultimately, are really none of my business? This may not fall under the psychological label of self-injury but in my mind, there is little difference. I suppose the same could be said about a woman who is drinking too much. But that, we do talk about. This, seems more frivolous (to them). Not to me. I think it's atrocious.
I'm not always good at keeping my personal opinion out of our therapy sessions. When a decision teeters between being a healthy one and a self-destructive one, that's when the challenge comes in.
So here's my pledge, to myself and to my Botox-loving ladies:
I will work hard to better understand this choice, and hopefully, to better accept it as an option for those of you who find comfort from its results. I will try my best not to judge. Ultimately, I want you to feel good. Your choices are your choices. There are no absolutes in this work. I am confident that we will be able to explore this and find a good working solution (for both of us.)
And if my wrinkled loving face can somehow inspire you to embrace healthy options along your way to wellness - all the better.
copyright 2011 Karen Kleiman www.postpartumstress.com
