I turn the key and the door opens. I walk into my office waiting room. Although I have not redecorated it for a few years, I think of it as more attractive than any of the waiting rooms where I have waited as a patient.
I feel proud as I look around. I am a Master of the Universe here. Not a Wall Street Master of the Universe, but a respected and successful member of my profession. Here I have the pleasure of doing work that contributes a rich dimension to my life. Here I have earned money that has contributed to my sense of self-worth.
I am of a generation in which middle class generally did not work after college. Their chief goal was to marry and have children. I wanted that too, but I always wanted to pursue a career.
Here in this office, my husband and I had adjoining suites; and for a time, collaborated as a sex therapy team. He would be proud of me that I continued in this space and purchased the office when the building became a co-op. I rent the extra suite and so have some sense of being a business person.
The one disturbing feeling that comes over me from time to time is that my life here will come to an end -- that I will become too feeble in mind and body to be a Master of the Universe and patients will no longer come through that door.
But until that day comes and I put my key in the lock, I will as a Master of My Universe and I feel fulfilled.