I could have gone to a shrink. But a year in Italy sounded so much more appealing. My fantasy was that by changing my address, my insecurities would vanish and I would magically become the sexy, sultry, and migraine-free woman I was always meant to be.
After 9/11, the stress of daily life in NYC consumed me and everyone else. Throw in a couple of aging parents, two adolescent children, a workaholic husband and a defective I-can-and-must-do-everything-perfectly gene, and it's probably not unexpected that migraines had become a way of life for me. The idea of moving away, combined with visions of a slower, quieter life where we'd have time to "chew" our food, "breathe" the air, and take frequent weekend jaunts, was extremely enticing.
When the stars aligned enough to make our adventure possible, we jumped at the chance. Little did I know what awaited us.