ON OUR RADAR
Faces, places, treasures, and trends that caught our attention
An expert on authentic early American furniture and objects, Gail Lettick is a passionate antiques dealer and collector — with a love for history and an ability to recognize quality and beauty.
The owners of Pergola in New Preston, David Whitman and Peter Stiglin, have branched out and launched another gorgeous shop — this time in Kent—called PERCH.
In a stunning exhibition, James Barron Art presents the work of Jeanette Montgomery Barron and Laura de Santillana.
Coaching Corner
INBOX

Dear Coach,
I miss my career.

I got my first job at age 12 and have always been a worker. I left my last position begrudgingly because it was—and still is—the best thing for our family. As my husband’s career took off, requiring more and more of his attention, it fell to me to take responsibility for everything else. I am chef, driver, shopper, scheduler, comforter, homework monitor, social secretary and a zillion other things that somehow feel like not much at all.

I don’t want to complain. I know I am beyond lucky. My family is amazing. I have two wonderful, smart children and a husband I love. We have a beautiful home, and even a summer home. I know I should just be grateful for all that I have.

Still, something is missing.

I take care of myself through exercise and yoga, but feel a sense of purposelessness. I miss that old sense of accomplishment I derived from my career. I miss making my own money. I miss colleagues and intellectual stimulation. At this point, I know I can’t go back and work 40-plus hours in an office, but I would like a better balance. Is there some way to find a happy medium? I have volunteered for years, but am bored with that. Do you have any other suggestions?
Yours,
Dissatisfied

REPLY

Dear Dissatisfied,
I have been where you are.

I, too, spent the first few years of motherhood feeling ambivalent at home after “begrudgingly” leaving my legal career to raise my children. I, too, regularly told myself—despite the misgivings and occasional frustration I felt—that this was “the best thing for my family.”

You don’t want to complain. Neither did I. Neither do legions of other smart, educated, formerly ambitious women who—for myriad and complex reasons, both personal and political—have traded in their briefcases for diaper bags.

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