j. The best laid plans.

When I was young, in my teens and twenties, I had one major priority in my life which eclipsed everything else: Academia.

My identity, which developed during my mid-teens, consisted almost exclusively of achieving academic goals: High grades in high-school; graduation from Medical School; post-grad study to become a specialist ... and from there my future goals carried on endlessly to more academic goals - Professor; Department Head; author of numerous academic publications in medical journals … and so it went on and on … into some hazy distant place which was never clear. I couldn’t picture an ‘end-point’ to my study and work. I had no idea when I would be able to tell myself: ‘That’s enough!’

Thinking about my future was exhausting. It was entirely composed of work.  Where did fun and happiness fit in? No-where. But still, my ‘goals’ seemed so important.

I decided that I would push myself whether I liked it or not. Nothing else mattered. If I got married and had children, well, those things would be fitted in around my academic path. The major theme of my life would always be academia and career.

So, I passed each one of my early goals:  I graduated top of my high-school; then I graduated from medical school; then I began post-grad training in paediatrics. It was all going to plan.

Along the way I met a nice man, David - a fellow-doctor - and we got married when I was 24. Although, I very nearly missed out on marrying him because initially I thought that dating would ‘get in the way’ of my more important academic goals. It was my best friend, Jenny, who convinced me to create some ‘balance’ in my life and make a bit of time for David. Thankfully, I listened to her. Previously, I’d assumed that I would only date after I’d achieved all of my study and career goals. However, Jenny told me that ‘life’ doesn’t necessarily follow the script that I write. It happens … when it does … and opportunities, once lost, may never come along again. No matter how I think that I can ‘plan’ my life. So, if I loved being with David, she said, make him a priority and give him some time now.
 
David and I had a simple wedding. An elaborate ceremony was never a goal of mine. I just arranged our wedding over four weeks while I was at work completing my intern year: I booked the bridal car after admitting a patient from Casualty. I ordered the flower bouquets after a morning ward-round. And, on a Saturday afternoon a week before our ‘big day,’ I dropped into a dress shop - on my way home from work - and bought a long champagne-colour dress I saw hanging on a rack outside. It was an evening dress rather than a wedding dress. But, I thought: ‘That’ll do! It looks close enough to a bridal gown.’ It only cost around $100 and I didn’t have time to keep shopping.

The night before my wedding, I worked a late shift at the hospital until almost midnight; and, on the Monday, after my Saturday wedding, I was back at work at 8am. David and I had no time for a honeymoon. But that was never a goal of mine either.

A few years later, during my mid-late 20’s - while working 60 - 70 hour each week as a Paediatric registrar, and studying every hour at home when I wasn’t sleeping - I became increasingly aware of how unhappy I was. I began to hear a voice in my head repeatedly saying: ‘I’m dying inside.’ The same words - over and over - presumably from my subconscious … trying to get my attention.

I ignored it.

Gradually, the voice in my head grew louder repeating the phrase, ‘I’m dying inside,’ more forcefully and more frequently until I found myself voicing the words aloud sometimes. I’d be walking along the hospital corridors, or up a stairwell, and I’d find myself saying softly, ‘I’m dying inside.’

Still, I ignored it.

My misery must have shown on my face, however. I thought that I was hiding it so well: I smiled and diligently went about my hectic life so conscientiously. Yet, in hindsight, the only person that I was fooling was myself because even strangers could see my unhappiness: They regularly approached me, in the hospital corridors or on the wards, and said: ‘Don’t worry. It might never happen.’

I ignored all of it.

Maybe the universe was trying to get my attention. I know that my subconscious was! But, I wouldn’t listen. I refused to listen because I knew that I had to finish the academic path I had planned for myself. I just had to!

I thought that if I tried harder - worked harder - passed my specialty exams … and all the other milestones on the path I’d planned … then I would be happy and content and feel ‘good enough’.

However, when I was 28 years old - one year before I sat my specialty exams - two strange things happened which marked the beginning of an entirely new path for my future:

Firstly, I developed an intense ‘desire’ to become a mother. It happened almost overnight. I’d never thought about babies or becoming a mother when I was younger. I’d always thought what a nuisance it would be to my academic goals. I planned to put off having babies - if I ever had them - for as long as possible. (Actually, to be honest, I never gave the idea of motherhood much thought at all; the way you don’t give much thought to what life will be like when you’re 80. You hope that you’ll get to that point in your life one day - but it’s nothing you consider in detail now.)

Even as a child I’d never been particularly ‘motherly’ in my nature. I've been told that I was kind to other people, and I was generous with my possessions. But, I never played with dolls. My mother told me that one Christmas she bought me an expensive baby-doll with beautifully detailed clothes and all the baby paraphernalia (bottles, crib, stroller, and so on). I was four at the time and, when she got up on Christmas morning, I had a face like thunder and I was dragging the doll around the house by the hair grumbling: ‘Look what he “brung” me!’ I was close to tears and I never played with the doll. Instead, I climbed trees, rode my skateboard and my bike, and I played a lot of sport. I just never liked the ‘girl-y’ things like dolls and ‘baby stuff’. 

But now, at 28 years of age, the desire to be a mum hit me all of a sudden, like a powerful wave pushing me forward to motherhood whether it ‘fitted’ my career plans or not. Although, I still desperately wanted to continue along my academic and high-status career path. So, I was torn. The two paths conflicted and a choice on priorities had to be made: Which was the more important?


The second thing that happened around this time was that I began to have the same two recurring nightmares. They were very upsetting and I would wake from them confused and shaken. You see, in the dreams I was either trying to ‘murder’ someone or someone else was trying to murder me.

Let me explain:

The first recurring bad dream involved me standing on a river bank under shady willow trees. The scene is tranquil with a gently flowing river, fields of green surround me, and I’m standing on a grassy bank throwing apples into the water. I wear an apron around my waist and I’ve scooped up the hem on it to create a pouch in which I hold the apples. Then, one by one, I throw the apples into the water and I watch them drift away.

Suddenly, in my dream, a young woman runs towards me and tries to push me off a nearby bottomless ravine. I begin to fall, but just before I disappear into oblivion I grab her ankle and I call out: ‘If I go … you go too!’

I then wake - upset and confused.

The second recurring bad dream is set in a sunny holiday resort. I’m having so much fun playing volleyball in a pool with lots of other young people. We’re laughing and it’s colourful and warm and I’m so happy. Then I notice a studious young woman wearing glasses and black clothes; she’s walking across the plaza carrying a pile of text books en route to study somewhere in the resort. I get out of the pool and follow her. I know that I must kill her. I have a syringe filled with poison and, once I’m alone with her in an elevator, I try to inject her arm with it. However, I can’t kill her. She won’t die. I’m upset and shocked by the fact that I would want to ‘kill’ anyone!

Then, again, I wake - upset and confused.

The dreams both recurred for many months until I discovered what they meant. Once I understood them and I found a solution to the dilemma they presented me … I never had either of them again.

The way I worked out what they meant was by asking my husband, David.  He loves psychology and he’s read many books on ‘dream symbolism’.

David told me that in dreams we rarely use dialogue. Instead we understand issues and situations by either just ‘knowing’ them (the idea or message just comes into our head without words) or the message is delivered via symbols. The symbols tend to be the same for all of us and this is how dream dictionaries can help you ‘interpret’ the meanings behind your dreams. Often our dreams are a link to our subconscious which may be trying to sort out a dilemma in our lives or help us to solve problems we have - whether we are consciously aware of the problems or not.

Also, in relation to this, psychological studies have shown that the subconscious mind is unable to make 'plans'.  Plans can only be formulated in the conscious mind.

So the subconscious mind - when it knows that we have a dilemma or problem in our lives which needs sorting out - nags us with recurring thoughts about it, or recurrent dreams - until we make a definite 'plan' for what we'll do about it with specifics like time, place, and opportunity. 

Once the plan is formed, the subconscious mind stops reminding the conscious mind. So, the recurrent dreams and nagging thoughts about the 'issue' stop.

In my situation with my recurrent bad dreams, David explained them to me in this way (mainly from the symbolism):

Firstly, he reassured me that I’m not actually a homicidal psychopath. That was a relief. I had me worried! The ‘killing’ in my dreams represented my subconscious desire to ‘rid’ myself of my ‘shadow’.

When you dream about a ‘same-sex’ person about the same age as yourself - that often represents your ‘shadow’ self: the less dominant part of your own personality. So, if someone is mostly quiet and shy in their waking life - their ‘shadow self’ might be more out-going and wish to sing karaoke or become an actor. The ‘shadow’ part of their personality may present to them in their dreams. Understanding this aspect of themselves might help the person find some way to fulfill that other part of themselves: they could take singing lessons or act in small local drama productions.

For me, at that time, I was living a very academic, career-driven life.  However, my ‘shadow’ self was quite maternal and just wanted to have fun, muck about a little, and enjoy life; so in one of my bad dreams that part of my self - my ‘shadow’ - wanted to ‘kill’ the academic part of me. 

In the second recurring dream, my academic self - throwing apples into the river (fruit in dreams is symbolic of off-spring and, interestingly, mine were held in an apron over my waist - like babies in a womb; and a ‘river’ is symbolic of ‘time passing’) was symbolically ‘throwing away’ the option in my life of choosing to have a child. Time was moving by and I was throwing away the option of motherhood.  My ‘maternal self’ wanted to throw my ‘academic self’ off a cliff. Although, my words as I fell - ‘If I go, you go too’ - is now obvious.  My shadow (maternal self) is a part of me, just as my then dominant self (academic self) is the other part. So I can never completely ‘kill off’ either part of myself. They are joined. I am both of them - although, one part always ‘dominates’ the other at any period of time during my life.

Once I understood my nightmares, I knew that my subconscious was trying to resolve the conflict between my two desires: ‘academia and a high-flying career’ vs ‘motherhood’ which would preclude such a time-consuming academic life (unless I hired a nanny and allowed someone else to do more of the ‘mothering’ for me. This is always an option for some women, of course).

I considered my two options - the two different paths - and I made a plan to resolve my dilemma:

I would sit my Paediatric exams only once. (The pass rate for specialty exams is very low and some people try over and over again for many years before they pass; and some never pass).  If I didn’t pass the specialty exams after one single attempt - then I would give up, become a General Practitioner, and try to start my family immediately.  If, however, I passed my written exam, then I would delay motherhood for a further six months, while I studied for the clinical part to the paediatric exams (the final part of my specialty examinations) and then I would try to start a family. 

Either way, my two solutions to my dilemma would only delay motherhood for less than a year. I had decided not to delay motherhood until I finished all of my specialty training (which would include a further three years of ‘advanced training’ after the exams) because in another four years I would be in my mid-30’s and fertility might be an issue. Also, I really wanted to have children soon.



So, as it happened earlier in my life, I passed each one of my new goals:

I passed my specialty exams - written and clinical.  I then had my first baby before continuing on to complete the ‘advanced’ specialty training.

And, that where all my ‘good’ plans unravelled again, which reminds me of a joke I heard once:

Q. ‘How do you make God laugh?’
A. ‘Tell him your plans!’
 
Well, God must have been laughing at me.  All those detailed plans I had made for myself when I was young - which all seemed so terribly important - academia and becoming a specialist - they would never happen for me. Almost nothing I planned for my life, when I was young, happened the way I thought it should.

Instead, ‘real life’ stepped in and changed me along with all of my priorities.  Maybe that is an example of ‘destiny’ (if you believe in destiny).  Some things happen the way they’re meant to happen.  We have some choices - but other things just happen as they are going to - whether we like it or not.

I had my first baby at 30. And, from the moment when I first held her ... my head stopped dictating my life path ... and ever since then I have allowed my heart to guide me.

Becoming a mother has brought me so many wonderful things.  Some things I’ve discussed in previous blogs and other things I’ll discuss in future blogs.  But, basically, motherhood brought into clear focus an ‘end point'. A destination where I could be happy - which had never been clear in the plans I made when I was young.  My final 'goal' had always been unclear. Maybe, my subconscious knew that the path I was planning - back then - was wrong for me.

‘Happiness’, for me, always meant that I’d find love, self-acceptance, a positive self esteem, and I’d feel ‘good enough.’ That’s what I thought the lofty academic achievements and the high status job would bring me. I thought they were necessary for my success because when I made my early plans the only positive quality I had identified in myself was intelligence. I saw, back then, little else of any value in myself.

However, with my new path - which life pushed me along - my children and my husband, David, have taught me that I was always ‘good enough’.  Like Dorothy in the story The Wizard of Oz, I always had the power to find happiness, because the path to happiness was an 'internal' journal:  One of 'self discovery'. And no academic titles, awards, or accolades would have ever led me to true happiness and contentment. 

Academia is fun and I’ll always love to learn and study and work as a doctor - but my ‘dominant self’, I now realise - is living in my role as a mother.
 
Now that I think about it - in my dreams it was always my maternal ‘shadow self’ that wanted to get rid of the then ‘dominant academic self’. The mother in me finally won. I'm glad.

These days I never hear a voice in my head repeating the phrase: ‘I’m dying inside.’ And no-one ever approaches me anymore and says, ‘Don’t worry! It might never happen.’

My family and my friends helped me to find my path and my destiny and my authentic self. Oh, and my dreams helped as well - once I learned what they meant.


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