The world sometimes asks what we're made of. It sometimes dishes out problems that put our characters and strengths on display.

I was a white female who grew up in a small California town, with a brilliant and popular college professor father and a brilliant and nurturing mother. My paternal grandfather made his mark in several impressive businesses, and Mom's father was a Harvard-trained lawyer. Her mother was a grandchild of a U.S. congressman and a member of one of Bangor, Maine's most admired families.

Such academic and career successes thrilled me. Even as a child, I wanted those kinds of successes for me. Not just for a presumed future husband, but also for me. Why not me? Why not for girls and women, too? I was confused and then mad as hell about the traditional "female role" that was expected of virtually all females.

I was ambitious as all get-out and never doubted girls and women were as smart, talented, and strong as boys and men. Females also made babies. What a package of gifts we supplied!

As the years went by, I tried to push past my anger at the limitations placed on females. Instead, I excitedly began to launch my adulthood. Just watch me!

Initially, the world seemed to bless my excitement and determination. I could swear rose petals fell from the sky. I set lofty goals that sometimes became even loftier. I mean, as a 21-year-old, I was drawn to help a new, not-yet-sworn-in U.S. Senator, whose family had just been in a dreadful automobile accident. I moved from California to Washington, D.C. and became his first "intern." The Senator was 30 years old then. He's 81 now: Joe Biden, President of the United States. Sweet.

I grew up enthralled by the Kennedys. In fact, I was so devastated by President Kennedy's assassination when I was 12 that I set a goal the day after he died to somehow get to know members of the Kennedy family and establish a career path among them and their peers. (As you'll see, I did quite well.) I'll even take you on my sail with the Kennedy family, on their boat, near the Kennedy Compound. Nice.

Then everything started to collapse. Dear God, No! Why? Two men did terrible things to me. I later got a disease that doctors couldn't diagnose. The symptoms were dreadful and went on and off for years. Doctors made fun of my descriptions; they stated or implied I needed psychological help—in an era when seeing a psychotherapist was frowned upon and could be career-threatening.

I became a rat caught in a maze just after I thought my life was a glowing wonder.

Was something wrong with me? Was I stoical and brave in the face of all this, or was I in denial about the proper role of females or, maybe, was some other message trying to find me? You will find answers, verifiable answers, to such questions as you read this book.

Doctors, psychotherapists, and patients can learn important lessons by absorbing what I struggled to learn.