You may be familiar with my story. I was a poor orphan forced into servitude, and then, with a twist of fate, fell in love with a prince to live happily ever after. That was the real story. The authors embellished it with fanciful inventions of fairy godmothers and pumpkins turning into carriages. That was all for show. I mean really, Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo? The fairytale sounded pretty good, but I’ve found life after happily ever after is a whole different story.
After the wedding, life in the castle was instantly foreign to me. I went from scrubbing floors to watching others like me scamper around, ensuring that my glass slippers never touched dirt. It was unnerving. I’ll never get used to having servants. Anytime I try to pick up a dish or even make something in the castle kitchen, I’m scoffed and rebuffed by my new family and the servants I’ve tried to befriend.
And my Prince Charming wasn’t much help. At first we were like a normal honeymoon couple enamored with each other’s constant attention. We walked through the palace gardens and spent hours of alone time wrapped in each other’s arms.
But that only lasted a few months, then he was often attending to affairs of state his father delegated in his preparation to become king someday.
The queen was kind and tried to acclimate me with how to lessons on becoming a queen. I l listened carefully to learn to perform my duties. But it was all so meaningless. This fork can only be placed here and that dish must be exclusively used for this… and not that. Despite its tedious drivel, I attentively studied it like a craft, but it left me feeling empty and shallow.
Clad and jewels and beautiful sweeping gowns, I was excited to attend court dinner parties and dances to mingle with the court aristocracy.
But the parties were full of needless intrigue and strife. It quickly revealed to be a chess game of calculated moves for people in the court to attempt to gain favor with the royal family with the goal of gaining power, money and lands. Most of them were fairly obvious and none were accepting of a poor orphan who hopscotched her way over their heads to a queen-in-waiting position.
They were cordial, of course, but as soon as the king, queen and prince were out of earshot or sightline, I felt their daggered eyes peering holes in my head.
Terribly lonely, I sought adulation beyond the palace walls. My fairytale story was the envy of all in the village and gave hope to the people that anyone could vault beyond their birth position to fortune and love. To the people, I was a hero. From the moment I waved out of my wedding carriage to our post-nuptial balcony appearance, I felt their warm admiration of my fairytale dream.
Yet when I tried to venture out into the village, it was a nightmare. Just walking through the market, I was mobbed. People pushed and shoved to get my autograph and pulled at my clothing to touch me or speak to me. It was horrifying, and soon again I was left in rags, forced to retreat to the safety of the palace. I could only look upon the villagers, who were once my peers, from the balcony or windows of my beautiful solitary prison.
Soon the prince’s duties frequently took him away from me and I began to withdraw and resent him. And I recently found out that the prince has been placing other women’s feet in glass slippers, if you know what I mean.
I’m trapped. My life is meaningless, my husband has been alienated and I’m filled with depression, self-doubt and loathing.
When I first met the prince, I dreamed up a fantasy that had nowhere to go but down. I jumped too quickly, not thinking about life after happily ever after.
And that brings me to you, doctor. I hope you can help me make sense of this. I’m miserable. What do I do now?
(c) Suzanne Rudd Hamilton, 2023
SUZANNE RUDD HAMILTON 
Gre
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