Reviving Ophelia (22 page)

I asked for examples of Chuck’s behavior. “Do you have all day?” Joan asked. “We’re fighting for custody and he keeps pressuring and bribing Amy to choose him. He puts me down constantly and he sets me up to be angry. Last week he called to change visitation three times. He disappoints Amy by not coming when he says he will.”

Weakly Amy protested, “He comes when he says.”

Joan continued as if she hadn’t heard. “We have psychologists evaluating Amy for the custody decision, but I wanted someone to help her with the stress of the divorce.”

With some reservations I asked to talk to Amy alone. In the last few months she’d talked to attorneys, judges and psychologists and her trust for adults was at an all-time low. From her point of view, I was just one more adult who was supposed to be helping but wasn’t.

I asked how her summer was going and she answered so softly I had to ask her to repeat herself. She said, “It’s rained a lot and I haven’t been able to swim as much as I like to.”

I thought she was giving careful answers to me and probably to everyone else as well. She’d learned that what she didn’t say didn’t get her in trouble. I talked to her about divorce, how it stresses out kids and makes them feel alone and weird. I said that I’d seen lots of kids who were sad and mad about their parents’ divorce. I told her about other kids in her predicament and I put happy endings on the stories. Amy relaxed as I talked and asked me questions about the kids in the stories. But when I asked about her, she resumed her frozen face.

I said, “Most kids hate to choose which parent to live with.”

“Both of them want me and I hate to hurt their feelings.” Amy shook her head miserably. “Besides, some days I hate Dad and some days I hate Mom. Some days I hate them both.”

I asked about living arrangements. “Mom and I still live at home for now. Dad has an apartment in the town where he works. I don’t know anyone there and I can’t stand his place. Mom says that she’ll have to move though, especially if Dad gets me.”

She sat up straight and said, “I don’t want to live with either of them right now. They’re both screwed up. I want to run away from home.”

We talked about running away—its dangers and appeals. Amy, like most twelve-year-olds, wanted to run to family. Older kids want to go to the coast or to move in with friends. Amy dreamed of going to her grandmother’s house in Minnesota. She asked for her parents’ permission, but both had wanted her with them this summer.

Once she started, Amy loved to talk. She told me about starting her period at her dad’s house. She had supplies at her mother‘s, but nothing at her dad’s, and she had to ask him to go buy her pads. Later her mom got in a fight with him because he hadn’t brought her home. She’d wanted to share Amy’s first period. As Amy said, “She thought it should be a mother-daughter thing.”

She told me that both parents tried to buy her love with presents. “If I wanted to, I could ask for a racing bike or television right now.” Worst of all was how her parents talked about each other. “They both pretend they don’t rag on each other, but they drop hints all the time that the other one is the craziest, meanest person they know.”

Her biggest worry was starting junior high next year. If she lived with Dad, it would be a new school where she had no friends. If she lived with Mom, all the kids would know her parents got divorced. She said, “I don’t know how I’ll get my homework done. Mom helps me with math and Dad knows French.”

She told me how ashamed she was of the divorce. She had tried unsuccessfully to keep it secret and had been embarrassed when kindly adults offered her sympathy. She avoided her friends because they might bring it up. She was sure she had the strangest parents in America.

I said, “They have lots of competition for strange, believe me.” She smiled for the first time that day, and I caught a glimmer of what the pre-divorce Amy must have been like.

I ended the session by calling Joan in and suggesting that Amy go spend a few weeks with her grandmother while the adults worked things out. After she returned, we’d talk again and maybe Amy could be in a divorce group for young teens.

Joan said, “Chuck will never agree with this.” I offered to call him.

Chuck was immediately angry when he heard I’d seen Amy. I talked to him about releases, consent to treatment and confidentiality. Then, after he calmed down, I asked him how Amy was doing. He said, “Since the separation, she’s a different kid.” Of course, he had his own theory about Amy. “Confidentially,” he said, “Joan is the biggest bitch on the planet.”

I listened patiently while he bad-mouthed Joan. As he talked, I thought how miserable these two people had made each other and how right it was that they divorce. But unfortunately, because they had Amy, they couldn’t really separate. In fact, in some ways they would need to negotiate and coordinate efforts even more now that they lived in separate households. And the same things that destroyed the marriage could keep them from adequately parenting Amy over the next few years.

I reminded myself that underneath the parents’ anger was pain. No doubt they both needed guidance sorting through this failed marriage. But my job was to help Amy. I feared that unless these parents settled down, Amy was at high risk for depression and, perhaps later, delinquency. I wasn’t sure these parents were capable of putting Amy’s needs first and working as a team, but I had nothing to lose in trying to help them do this.

I suggested Chuck and Joan come in for some divorce counseling. I told Chuck that it’s better to talk about Amy in therapy than in an attorney’s office. It’s cheaper and non-adversarial. Perhaps because he himself was a psychologist, he had to agree.

Chuck said he was willing, but he doubted Joan would do it. I offered to talk to her. I could see Amy’s drawn face as I hung up the phone. Maybe while she was at her grandmother’s I could have Chuck and Joan in for some sessions. Maybe by the time she came home and started junior high, they would have started to do what adults need to do in situations like this, which is to put their own pain aside and help their child.

Long before I met Jasmin, I’d seen her parents in marital therapy. Joe and Georgeanne were good, likable people, but their marriage wasn’t working. They had married right out of high school because Georgeanne was pregnant. Joe was an extrovert and an excitement seeker, while Georgeanne was quiet and liked routines. She seemed always to be in the shadows when Joe was around. On the other hand, Joe spent many nights at home when he would have preferred a social outing. They had compromised for years—probably they’d compromised too often and too much.

They did all the things couples do to save their marriages. They saw a therapist, tried communication exercises, read self-help books and went on dates and a second honeymoon. But the spark was gone. Without ever really arguing, they were ready to call it quits.

Now they wanted help divorcing. Both of them loved Jasmin and wanted to keep the divorce from damaging her. They weren’t sure what to tell her about the divorce or how to handle living arrangements and money. I suggested that together they give Jasmin a brief but honest account of why they were divorcing. I encouraged them to make it clear that they both loved her and would keep on caring for her. Also, I recommended that they keep Jasmin’s life as routine as possible. Then I asked to see Jasmin.

Jasmin was small and blonde like her mother, talkative like her father. When I first met her she’d known the news for three days. She had been stunned by their announcement. I asked how she felt when her parents told her the news. Jasmin said, “At first I thought it was a joke. Then when I caught on they were serious, I wouldn’t even listen to them. I put my hands over my ears and ran out of the room.”

She looked out my window. “I still think they’ll get back together. This is just a phase they are going through—what do you call it? Middle-age crisis. But in the meantime, they shouldn’t do this. They don’t even fight. We have fun together.”

I asked her if she’d told her friends yet. She nodded her head yes. “I told my best friend.”

She told me, “She’s trying to understand, but she can’t. I got mad at her yesterday because I was jealous. She has a family and I don’t.

“I haven’t told any other kids, but word gets around quick. Dad moved out yesterday and there was a U-Haul truck parked in our driveway.”

Jasmin had all the usual worries: Where would she live? Would she see both her parents? Would there be enough money? Would she be forced to choose?

She said, “I thought divorce was what happened to other families—you know, families where the dad drank or beat the kids. I can’t believe my parents would do it. Just last week Dad brought roses home to Mom.”

I recommended she attend a divorce group for teenagers and she agreed. We talked about what else she could do to deal with her feelings. Jasmin said, “The main thing that helps is my cat. I lie on my bed with Orange and listen to music. I tell her everything.”

After the initial visit, I alternated sessions between Jasmin and her parents. I talked to Joe and Georgeanne about living arrangements and joint custody. They were both struggling with their own issues but remained committed to helping Jasmin through it all. Joe found an apartment in the neighborhood so that Jasmin could walk between homes and so that her friends and school were handy.

For more fractious couples, joint custody doesn’t work. All the issues that sabotaged a marriage also sabotage joint custody. In worst-case scenarios, families with joint custody can get trapped in years of limbo, with parents neither together nor apart and children torn into pieces by the fighting.

But Joe and Georgeanne were low-key and rational and they could agree on basic issues. They could communicate about Jasmin without fighting. They did have some differences about rules and expectations, but that was to be expected. Jasmin could learn to behave differently in different houses. What was important was that the parents not criticize or second-guess each other.

Both felt okay about their time with Jasmin. They tried to make it as ordinary as possible. Jasmin had chores, schoolwork, orthodontist’s appointments and outings with both parents. Money was tight, but money had never been a big deal to this family. They all knew how to have fun without spending a lot. Joe and Jasmin hiked and played sand volleyball. Georgeanne took Jasmin to art galleries and museums.

Like all adults, Joe and Georgeanne were needy after the divorce. Georgeanne spent six months on antidepressants. Joe got so lonely in his apartment that he thought he’d go crazy. But somehow they managed to keep their own pain from interfering too much with their parenting. Both of them were grown-ups in the truest sense of the word.

I saw Jasmin once a month for the first year. In addition, she attended a support group. The kids helped each other talk about feelings and cheered each other on through the tough times. She also had her true friend and her beloved Orange.

At our last session we talked about the year. Jasmin looked relaxed and vibrant as she talked, very different from the shaken and shocked girl of a year ago. I admired the way Joe and Georgeanne had stayed emotionally committed to Jasmin.

Jasmin liked her living arrangements. At her mom’s, her bedroom was old-fashioned and filled with mementos from the past. Her bedroom at her dad’s was Art Deco with built-in bookcases. She had a carrying case for Orange and took her to both homes. She said, “Wherever I go, Orange goes.”

Still she nurtured a small hope that her parents would get back together. She was sad about the divorce, but no longer mad. She said, “They tried to make it work and they couldn’t. I know my parents are just people and make mistakes like everyone else.”

She acknowledged that both her parents seemed happier. “Mom’s more outgoing now that Dad’s not around. She’s stronger than I thought she was.”

She wrinkled up her face. “Dad’s dating someone. I’m not ready for that, and I try to avoid her.”

She was pleased that her parents got along fine. They both attended her events. Jasmin put it this way: “They like to get together and brag about me. They love me and that gives them a bond.”

 

One of the things that helps saplings survive the hurricane is the root system. With divorce, the root system splits apart. Girls are oftentimes unsupported, at least temporarily. They face the strong winds without the support of a home base, and they are at risk of blowing over.

Still, divorce is not always avoidable and it’s not always a mistake. Parents and girls have some control over the effects of divorce. Girls are likely to do well if they come from families in which the parents have a working relationship, in which the girl feels loved by both parents and in which the family is not economically depressed. Girls do better if they are neither manipulated nor allowed to manipulate, if they have adequate supervision and a safe environment.

Jasmin is a good example of a girl whose parents handled things well. Julia had a tougher time because of all the step-family issues and the emotional loss of her father. Amy, whose parents are bitterly feuding, had the hardest time. Myra learned that her mother is a person with a life independent of Myra’s. In the years following the divorce, she became responsible for herself. Divorce, like all experiences that are properly handled, can be an opportunity for growth.

WITHIN THE HURRICANE—DEPRESSION

Monica was brought to my office by her kindhearted and slightly out-of-touch parents. Born when her mother was approaching menopause, Monica was an only child. Her parents were concerned about her lack of friends and her depression. Her dad thought Monica had no friends because, with her IQ of 165, she was too smart for other kids. Mom thought it was because their family was different. The parents were both professors, bookworms and political radicals. Monica hadn’t been exposed to many common childhood experiences, such as television, Disneyland, camping or sports.