Thanksgiving, Part 2. Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

The 82nd Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was a special event for me this year.  Although I have never been there in person, despite having lived in New York City for a number of years, I was especially drawn to this year’s extravaganza. 
 
Why this parade?  Why this year?  Magical floats and ever-more-massive cartoon-character balloons hover over the crowds of thousands while the parade winds its way for three hours down the west side of New York, ending up, at Macy’s at 34th Street and Broadway (where else?).  And all this reminds me of the wonderful visual images my anger management therapist employs for me to overcome the emotional scars of my years-long crusade for gender equity.  While my mandated “retooling” so that I don’t raise my voice at a critical patient event–even if no one is listening while I ask for more help as my patient goes downhill–has been over for some time, I find her insights into the ongoing saga of my life very helpful. 

With the help of this fanciful parade, one of the challenges I recently conquered was overcoming the sense of paranoia that I developed while undergoing what I believed to be a sham peer review. I constantly worried that I was being watched by those who heavily invested in my “conviction” and would like to see me relapse into the allegedly angry, disruptive doctor I was accused of being a year ago.  It was quite intimidating to think that at any moment someone might complain that I raised my eyebrows too high or didn’t have enough of a smile on my face while I asked for some task to be done or some order to be followed.  I desperately needed help dealing with this paranoia.  And aside from leaving the institution entirely (it’s the only place that cares for kids in Buffalo and we are not ready to make a major move from this area yet), I put my therapist to work.  Dr. Pessar is full of visual images that work—one day I am a pretzel, another I am covered by a veil.  Believe it or not she really helps me using images that are often funny or even absurd to alleviate the worries that I had developed that might otherwise interfere with a healthy, more normal inner life.

And that is why my attention was particularly focused on the year’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Think about how scary a five-story Shreck or Spider Man can appears to someone who is on the ground. What would happen if Dumbo were to come crashing down on your head?  Well, the best way to handle these oversized, overblown and overinflated characters, is to remember that they are merely temporary.  They are controlled by puppeteers.  And at the end of the parade, the puppeteers will no longer control their movements, the hot air will be let out and they will become large, amorphous mounds of plastic that will be stored away.  If they are popular enough, they will be brought out again only for next year’s fantasy parade, which I can choose to watch, or not.  See?  Not scary.

So, as a larger-than-life Dumbo floated over the crowds of wide eyed wondrous children on Central Park West and a giant blue and white Smurf greeted the squeals of laughter and fond memories from everyone in Times Square, I saw other, less charming faces on these over-sized balloons.  And while I still have the realistic notion that there are some people who are out to get me, their time has passed and they are now deflated and should not cast any shadow over me and my life.  So in my mind I have returned them to the normal size that they are.  The parade is over and life goes on. The balloons are stored away and now I can spend all my energies doing what I do best, take care of patients.