Last weekend, watching my daughter perform in her school’s production of Shrek, I found myself unexpectedly undone.
In the pivotal scene, Shrek—a massive green ogre who has spent his life as a feared outcast—overhears what he believes to be Princess Fiona calling him “a hideous, ugly beast.” She is actually talking to herself, using the words she reserves for her own cursed reflection, but he doesn’t know this. The pain was achingly familiar. Every cruel word ever whispered about him crystallizes into truth—that particular anguish that whispers: if I can’t be loved, at least I can be feared. In a world full of monsters, better to be the biggest one.
This is Anna Freud’s “identification with the aggressor” in its purest form—when the world calls you monster, you become monstrous. Rather than remain vulnerable to attack, Shrek embodies the very cruelty that wounded him. It’s a brilliant defensive maneuver: if I terrorize others first, I control the terms of my rejection.
The fortress of exile
Shrek’s swamp isn’t just a home; it’s a fortress built against the unbearable possibility of hope. There’s a terrible creativity in how we arrange our own exile—becoming the very thing that once wounded us.
But here’s where the fairy tale becomes revolution: transformation happens when you feel enough love in the space you’re in—enough safety—that you can finally see the armor for what it is. When you allow yourself to be kissed, you are free.
The therapeutic kiss
In therapy, in those moments when the room holds enough safety, something similar unfolds. You stop performing acceptability and risk being seen. What proves curative—for Shrek, for patients—is feeling unconditional love. This is the transformative kiss.
Finding the right therapist—whether you’re struggling with depression, anxiety, or the particular brand of isolation that comes from feeling fundamentally unacceptable—means finding someone who can see past the armor to the wounded heart beneath.
Dating apps, of course, offer the opposite—elaborate theaters for performing acceptability, where we spend hours curating selves worthy of a right swipe rather than risking being seen at all. In a city like New York, where the apps promise endless options yet somehow leave us feeling more isolated than ever, we perfect the art of connection without vulnerability. When rejection comes, back to the swampy hell realm we retreat—where at least the loneliness is ours to control.
The revolutionary friend
Which makes Donkey’s approach revolutionary. Donkey—a literal talking donkey who becomes Shrek’s unlikely companion—refuses to swipe left on Shrek’s gruffness. This chattering, boundary-ignoring creature is Shrek’s irrepressible companion, annoying and persistent and fundamentally immune to intimidation. He sees Shrek’s gruffness for what it is: not evidence of monstrosity, but a defense mechanism. Donkey’s relentless cheerfulness isn’t naive; it’s subversive. He refuses to participate in the very dynamic that keeps Shrek exiled.
He is the therapist who can contain the rage without being destroyed by it, the friend who shows up anyway, helping to set the stage for the patient to feel less like a monster.
The curse of authenticity
Princess Fiona carries her own curse—by day she appears as a beautiful human princess, but each night she transforms into an ogre like Shrek. She has been taught to see this transformation as her shameful secret, the thing that makes her unworthy of love. When true love’s kiss finally breaks her curse, she doesn’t transform into the princess everyone expects. She remains an ogre. Her authentic self was never the curse—the curse was believing authenticity made her unworthy of love.
The radical transformation
In the end, Shrek offers a fairy tale for grown-ups who have forgotten they deserve happy endings. True love’s kiss isn’t about finding someone who loves us despite our flaws—it’s about finding someone who loves us with them, who sees our monstrosity and calls it beautiful.
In a city full of monsters pretending to be princes and princesses—where anxiety and depression often masquerade as sophistication and success—that might be the most radical transformation of all. The swamp was never the prison. The prison was believing we belonged there alone.
If you’re dealing with depression or anxiety in NYC and ready to leave your swamp, let me help you find your way back to connection. You deserve to be seen and loved exactly as you are.
Dr. Michael Brustein is a licensed NYC psychologist specializing in anxiety and depression therapy for high-achieving professionals in New York City. Using an integrative approach that combines psychoanalytic insight with practical strategies, he helps executives and professionals understand the hidden costs of constant worry and perfectionism. His practice focuses on helping clients move from symptom management to deep, lasting transformation. Schedule a consultation today.