Brought up in suburban London with two older sisters and a younger brother, Victoria’s upbringing was conventional enough. Her mum stayed at home to look after the children while it was her late father, an eccentric computer engineer who'd studied physics at university, who encouraged young Victoria’s love of science.
"Dad fostered my love of science and had an answer for any question I threw at him. He thought it was more important for me to know about Einstein’s special theory of relativity than it was for me to understand people and relationships. Then, when I was 13, he brought home a psychology text book covering subjects like IQ studies and cognitive development and I was absolutely fascinated.
“After that I had a vague idea about studying psychology but my Dad dismissed it with a wave of his hand and told me I should do a “proper” science. I had an aunt who was a doctor so I decided to study medicine instead.”
Like most teenagers, Victoria loved the agony aunt pages in magazines and newspapers. “I was always more interested in the advice given than the questions. But I didn’t aspire to be an agony aunt as it didn’t seem to be a career option!”
All the same, Victoria was quickly becoming an agony aunt of sorts to her friends, who gravitated towards her when they had problems. "Looking back, I might have put my foot in it a few times and given my opinion when it wasn’t asked for. But I’ve mellowed over the years and that’s come from the experience of talking to people and understanding them more. People don't always want to be told what to do. Sometimes they just want someone to listen.”
Victoria’s life changed dramatically shortly before Victoria’s sixteenth birthday when her parents separated and Victoria decided to move out and live with her older sister.
Despite the upheaval, Victoria got straight As in her exams and went to Kings College, London to study medicine. She decided to specialise in psychiatry after a placement at the Maudsley Hospital. “I liked psychiatry because it involved talking to people, something I’ve always been good at,” she says.
She was only 20 when she met her future husband and they married when she was 24. “That might seem young for a career woman today but as far as I was concerned I’d been an adult since I was 15. If you meet someone you love and care about and you have a really strong relationship with, you’re not too young to get married.”
The couple have two children, Annabel, seven, and George who’s four. “Motherhood wasn’t at all what I expected,” she admits. “Annabel cried a lot as a baby and it was a shock to me that however kind and caring I was, she still cried."
“As I got older I realised parenthood is about doing your best. I read every book about motherhood going but in the end a midwife gave me the best advice when she said to remember that everything is just a phase.”
Victoria currently specialises in young adults who have experienced their first episode of psychosis, often schizophrenia, and she also has an interest in old age psychiatry. Three years ago, she also started work as an agony aunt.
“PARSHIP , the internet dating company, asked me to work with them, initially helping their website and then doing a newsletter, which went to 30,000 people. I covered subjects like how to cope with being single and the perils of writing a checklist about who your perfect man is. After that I became agony aunt for the Metro newspaper, My Weekly magazine, and recently The Independent.”
Anyone writing to our new agony aunt can be confident of the sympathetic and measured response that has become Victoria’s trademark. “I’m empathetic and thorough – I don’t believe in knee-jerk reactions like telling someone to dump their partner. I really try to identify with the person who’s written in, put myself in their position and imagine how I would feel.” Not bad for someone who thought being an agony aunt wasn’t a viable career…..
If you want to ask Dr Lukats's advice send an email to drlukats@parship.co.uk. Any advice given will be published on the website (personal details will not be published).