When spring arrives and the long Maine winters give way to sunshine and warmth, it’s tempting to step back from routines that feel “heavy” — like therapy. Life feels lighter, moods lift, and we find ourselves outdoors more. It’s understandable. But therapy isn’t just for stormy seasons.
In fact, some of the most meaningful work in therapy happens when we’re not in crisis.
Why Summer Can Be an Ideal Time for Growth
When we’re not in survival mode, we can reflect more deeply. We can ask:
Who am I becoming?
What habits do I want to reinforce?
How do I build on the progress I’ve made?
Without the emotional urgency that comes with winter blues or life stressors, summer gives us space to explore.
Skipping Sessions Can Disrupt Momentum
Taking a break may feel harmless, but therapy often builds on itself. Each session adds to the last, and gaps in treatment can slow or even reverse progress. If you’ve worked hard to get where you are, summer might be the time to solidify that progress — not pause it.
Therapy Isn’t Seasonal — It’s Foundational
Think of therapy like tending a garden. You don’t just water it when it’s wilting — you care for it consistently to see it bloom. Our mental health is similar. Sunny days don’t always mean we’re done healing. Sometimes they offer the best light to see things clearly.
Final Thought
Enjoy the sunshine, take the beach days — but don’t lose sight of the steady work you’ve been doing in therapy. Emotional health isn’t a seasonal project. It’s a lifelong investment in yourself.
A midlife reflection on food, freedom, and letting go
A Dream About Coffee
Last night, I had a dream that I was drinking a sweet, creamy coffee — more like a dessert than a drink. It came in a plastic cup with a straw, and I knew it was full of caffeine. I also knew it was late, and it would likely keep me up. But I drank it anyway. And in the dream, just as in real life sometimes, I found myself lying awake — overstimulated, restless, and regretting the choice I’d made for comfort.
The dream stayed with me.
When Food Isn’t About Hunger
That dream mirrored something I’ve been grappling with for a while: my relationship with food. I eat when I’m not hungry. I know I do it. I love food, but the kind of eating I’m doing isn’t always about nourishment — it’s about soothing. It’s about giving myself something sweet in the midst of a life that often demands too much.
I know this pattern is keeping me from feeling the way I want to feel — lighter, freer, more in sync with my body. And yet, I reach for food the way someone might reach for a comforting blanket, or a distraction from the weight of care.
Caretaking Has Been My Rhythm
So much of my life has been shaped by responsibility. I’m a psychiatrist — I spend my days tending to others’ minds and emotions. I’m also a mother. And for the last 12 years, I’ve raised chickens. These creatures, small and unassuming, became part of my daily rhythm. Feed, water, collect, protect.
But chickens — like children, like aging parents, like patients — need you. They need you consistently, daily, without fail. And lately, I’ve been asking myself: Do I want to start that cycle over again?
I’m down to a smaller flock now. My son, now in college but still living at home, helps. But he may leave in a few years. And when he does, I’ll be alone again in the daily task of tending to these small lives. Just like I was when he was younger and too little to help.
Motherhood in All Its Forms
Recently, I saw my neighbor with her new baby. She looked tired. She had longed for this child, but I could see in her face what I’ve seen in my own life: the moment when the fantasy of caretaking meets the reality. She said to me, “I just want to eat a meal without nursing.”
I told her that yes, it would get better — but even older children still want you all the time. And I realized: I don’t want to be wanted that much anymore.
Not by chickens.
Not by my mother, who still adds to her list after I’ve agreed to one or two errands.
Not by anyone.
What Freedom Looks Like Now
I want to travel without stress. I want to eat when I’m hungry — not when I feel I should. I want to make choices that don’t stimulate me past the point of rest. I want sweetness, yes — but I want it on my terms.
And that includes stepping away from things I used to love, or things I thought I had to keep doing because they made me who I was.
I Am Enough Without Being Needed
This is what midlife is teaching me: that I don’t have to be constantly useful to be worthy. That I can stop. That I can say no. That I can rest.
My job is about caring for others — but my life doesn’t always have to be. I’m learning to feed myself with compassion, not just food. I’m learning to ask, “What am I really hungry for?”
The answer is becoming clearer:
Stillness. Space. Sovereignty. Peace.
To Others Standing at the Same Threshold
If you’re there too — standing at the edge of old patterns, wondering whether to keep mothering something that drains you — know this: it’s okay to want a different life now. It’s okay to step back. It’s okay to feed yourself first.
We can honor what we’ve built, and still choose freedom.
