LETTING GO OF OUR ADULT CHILDREN
Chapter 4: Letting Go: Easier Said Than Done
Page 10
BY ARLENE HARDER, MA, MFT
Continuation of Chapter 4 of Letting Go of Our Adult Children, which explores the difficulty of simply letting go without effort.
There are a multitude of ways in which we develop Velcro. The most common arise because of our insecurities: to the degree we believe our child's lack of self-assurance is the cause of her difficulties, we are reminded of our own. We grow Velcro when we insist that our beliefs are the only ones worth having and that individuals with conflicting opinions are just plain wrong. We may still resent the hurts from our own childhood; when our child tells us that we weren't perfect parents, we cringe. We had expected to do a better job and don't want to be reminded that we haven't been successful. Remembering the emotional pain we felt in being rejected by a sorority can come back to haunt us when our child is similarly rejected by a group. We may fear she wasn't "good enough," which is what we felt when we bought into the judgment of those we considered sophisticated.
This third stage is designed to help us see things as they really are, to better understand both our role and our child's role in the family tug-of-war. If our child feels entitled to affluence, are we hooked because we've worked hard for our success? When our child joins a fundamentalist church and tells us drinking is sinful, are we extraordinarily defensive because at times we secretly wonder if we drink too much? When our child chooses a partner we can't accept, do our prejudices unwittingly come into play? Does our child really lack a sense of social responsibility, or does she simply not share our need for constant involvement in community affairs? Is the resentment we feel toward our daughter justified when she tries to control family get-togethers, or do we overreact because we haven't dealt with our own tendency to manipulate others? When our son is taciturn and doesn't want to include us often in his life, are we particularly sensitive because that is a characteristic we found especially annoying in our ex-spouse and the reason we got divorced? Or is it possible our son doesn't share himself with us because we don't keep his confidences or because we use that information to criticize him for not living as we think he should?
The following nicely illustrates the Velcro syndrome:
Harriet, a single mother, came to see me because she was terribly upset over her twenty-three-year-old son, Paul. Every time she thought about his job as a short-order cook, she felt "wretched." Her obsession about him was affecting her performance at work. She claimed that "he's never been able to get his act together," and "has no ambition." It was not long before I realized that, while it is true Paul could be classified as an underachiever, his lack of motivation provided a mirror into which Harriet resisted looking.
If she had been willing to look, she would have realized that she, too, is a very bright person in a dead-end job. Years ago she was distracted from the goal of attending college when the employer of her summer job after high school offered her full-time employment with excellent wages. She took the job without stopping to realize that, although the wages were good for someone with a high school diploma, they were not nearly as much as she could eventually make with more education. As the years went by, it was easier to work as a secretary than to shift directions and start college. A boyfriend kept promising marriage, even after Paul was born, but Harriet couldn't seem to get him to the altar.
Not surprisingly, as Paul grew up his mother commented on everything he did that was less than his potential. Soon Paul discovered he had the power to get his mother's attention by doing less than he was capable of. He played the role of underachiever so well that he never developed skills or self-motivation to succeed.
When Harriet finally looked at her own underachieving and enrolled in community college night courses, she was able to get some distance from her focus on Paul. Whether her son will ever work at his level of potential is no longer a significant problem for her.
Being objective concerning our child's situation goes a long way in helping us untangle our Velcro issues. As the following story reveals, objectivity can also help us recognize the many ways in which our child functions as an individual in the world outside our family.
Mark, thirty-two, a lawyer, met a waitress in a restaurant he frequented and moved in with her and her two young sons. His parents, Stan and Evelyn, were already disappointed that he had turned down an opportunity to work for a prestigious firm, choosing instead to associate with a small group focusing on low-paying environmental work. They were convinced they had failed to teach Mark the importance of success. Now Mark was "ruining" any chance for success by "living in sin," although his parents were vague on exactly how that would happen in today's climate of greater acceptance for such arrangements. His mother paid so much attention to how Mark wasn't living up to their standards that she was sure Mark "would never make it."
Because of his parents' pressure, Mark wanted to stop visiting them. But his girlfriend suggested he make an appointment to bring them with him to see me. She hoped that by seeing a therapist uninvolved in the family's situation they could accept him as he was and let go of their expectations that he be the lawyer-son they wanted.
At first Stan and Evelyn were afraid I might take Mark's side and criticize their standards. Instead, I assured them that they could hold any standards they felt appropriate. Their only task was to see whether their expectations got in the way of seeing Mark as he really was.
In exploring how their focus on Mark's cohabiting might cloud their appreciation of Mark as a person, Stan and Evelyn made a list of values they wished to pass on to their children. They could see that Mark practiced many things on the list. He paid his bills, didn't use drugs or drink to excess, and was kind, generous, and honest. He called them periodically, although perhaps not quite as often as they would like. They realized that Mark had a positive influence on his girlfriend's children, something they were particularly proud of. By the time the inventory was finished, Mark's parents were ready to see him in a different light. Being the most successful lawyer in town no longer seemed so important to them, although they continued to view his living arrangement as "immoral."
Stan and Evelyn's moral grandstanding reflects their deeply held religious views. It does not make them toxic, dysfunctional, or abusive, only human. Their "Velcro" was simply the assumption that Mark's behavior outside the office, behavior they believe is sinful, is going to affect his success in the world. They did not need to give up their religious views in order to be more accepting of Mark. They only needed to realize that the world does not operate according to their standards, a realization that many of us have a hard time accepting. Perhaps the world would be better off living under a higher ethical code. Until it does, however, we can bend ourselves all out of shape when a child doesn't walk the straight and narrow as we define it.
Ignoring our own contribution to the family rift is like rowing upstream with one paddle. By the same token, acknowledging our own strengths — and human frailties — goes a long way in smoothing the rough edges of friction between generations. John, a man I knew several years ago, demonstrated this quality in an encounter with his daughter, approaching the problem in such a way that it didn't develop into a serious rift.
John raised his three children by himself after his wife abandoned the family eighteen years ago. At the end of a recent visit home, his oldest child, Valerie, said, "Dad, you were never there for me when I needed you. I was a nobody in a dysfunctional family." Then she abruptly walked out the door. Without assuming her comments accurately described a parental flaw, John reflected on the situation. He recognized that he had worked extremely hard to be the best parent he could, juggling home and work; a reserved man, he knew he was more comfortable with his sons, who tended to be quiet, while Valerie expressed herself more dramatically. Yet John knew that he often was there for her, although not always in the ways she may have wanted.
John's ability to study the situation prevented Valerie's comment from causing an unnecessary upheaval. When Valerie visited a few weeks later, John calmly acknowledged that he had probably missed giving her some needed emotional support. He apologized, saying, "I'm sorry I wasn't the kind of mother you wanted."' In return, she thanked him for his efforts, as imperfect as they may have seemed at the time. In discussing the matter further, Valerie realized that her image of a mother was probably shaped by a few too many perfect TV families.
Again, this story reflects the complexity of parenting. Even though we try our best, we are bound to miss the boat sometimes. If John had tried to defend himself against the accusation that he was a dysfunctional parent, he may not have been able to acknowledge that Valerie needed the understanding a mother might have given.
I must have been covered with Velcro, for I got caught on almost everything David said or did. As hard as I tried, I couldn't seem to avoid getting upset. Discussions with him would result in one or both of us feeling angry and misunderstood. I wanted him to change, although I knew there was nothing I could do. Yet something kept me obsessing about the situation. Fortunately, I was motivated to discover what that something could be so that I could prevent myself from reacting with pain every time we heard about David's continuing chemical dependency, his loss of yet another job, his erratic behavior.
Chapter 6, The Velcro Syndrome, describes what I needed to do to stop from getting caught in the rift with our son. My experience may give you courage to address some of the issues that keep you hooked in your child's situation.
Stage 4: Releasing the past
Task: Learning to grieve lost dreams and learning to forgive ourselves and others
As you work on the issues that cause you to get caught in your child's problems, you will probably begin to notice some changes, however small, in your relationship with your child. Great. Although the differences in opinions, values and lifestyles are still there, you've stopped tugging on your end of the rope. Perhaps your child has stopped jerking on his end. You can facilitate this forward movement toward healing by choosing to work on the tasks of Stage Four, perhaps concurrently with your efforts in Stage Three.
When we view our family situation realistically, we may realize that at least a few of the differences between us and our children are highly resistant to change. In fact, they may never be resolved, no matter how thoroughly we work on our Velcro issues.
Our daughter marries someone we don't like. But because she is happy, we could wait forever to get a better son-in-law. Our unwed daughter decides to keep her baby. We have no power to make her give the child up for adoption, even though we are convinced that is the best course of action. Or even more painful, perhaps our daughter insists on adoption for a grandchild we want to remain in the family. And wanting our gay son to marry is almost surely a pipe dream, since few gays and lesbians (some professionals believe, none) can permanently change their sexual orientation, even if they would like to.
It is always possible that some of our expectations will be fulfilled in the future. In the meantime, we cause ourselves extra pain by desperately hoping things will turn around soon. If our son refuses to write or visit despite our best attempts to resolve old issues, we will need to wait until he works things out at his own pace. If our daughter's husband left her with five small children, it is unlikely she will soon return to college and get her graduate degree. My own son might eventually choose to enter a treatment program and develop a life that approximates the kind of future we once envisioned for him. Until that happens, I must accept what is true today. Otherwise, I end up back on the roller coaster of hope and disappointment that kept me in turmoil for so many years.
Whether or not there is a realistic possibility for future change, the reality is that we hurt today. Our child might become highly responsible five years down the road. That does not change the fact that he comes to us two or three times a year for bail-outs. Or our child may be willing to visit in the future, but currently refuses to see us. Accepting the reality of our current situation, even if it seems to offer us nothing but pain and conflict, is a major step toward genuine letting go.
In addition to grief, another catalyst for healing in this stage is forgiveness. Although forgiveness is an essential gift of the human spirit, we often fail to forgive simply because we don't know how to do it. It is easier than you may think.
Most of the parents interviewed for this book who had difficulties with an adult child said they had stopped trying to change their child and understood some of their Velcro issues. However, the majority agreed that grieving and forgiveness were areas they still needed to address more thoroughly.
This fourth stage can appear, at first, to be the most difficult of all; yet with courage to walk through it, it can also be the most rewarding. I will share some of my own experiences of grieving and forgiving later in the book.
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© Copyright 1994, Arlene Harder, MA, MFT, Reprinted with permission
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