It’s funny how
one post can lead to the next. Yesterday I mentioned Ryther Child Center and
the counseling I received there. I didn’t have one-to-one counseling for very
long and was then introduced into a group setting. The group was made up of
mothers just like me who had been referred because of a tendency for some form
of child abuse. The number of participants changed over time, but there was a
core group of us.
We all brought our children who
participated in a play group across the hall. I assume they were monitoring the
kids to make sure we weren’t abusing them, but I never asked and the counselors
never said. I know AJ loved going there and playing with the friends he made.
Fortunately, this counseling was on a
sliding fee scale which was a good thing because I don’t think any of us could
have afforded to participate otherwise. We had two counselors, Paul and Susan.
Once I figured out that Paul was the counselor who ripped off your scab and
Susan was the positive one providing succor and support, they pretty much
kicked me out. I guess they figured they’d done as much for me as they could.
I have to admit they did a good job. I
never abused my children either physically or mentally. When I had to use the
wooden spoon, it took like six smacks and when the crying ended, I’d go in and
we’d talk about how I felt like such a bully and hated to hurt my son, but
mommy had tried everything to get the child to do whatever it was…usually
disappearing without telling me where to. As far as mental abuse. I was raised
with guilt, and no matter how hard I try to guilt my boys into doing something…”Yeah,
mom, that’s not gonna work.”
We met once a week, on a Thursday, for
an hour and a half. There were days I stayed in bed until it was almost time to
go because I didn’t want to go. I knew it was my turn to have my scab(s) ripped
off. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like Paul telling me that crying so hard
I couldn’t talk was a way to avoid dealing with whatever we were working on at
that point in time. I persevered because I wanted to be a good mother.
There are two women in particular I
remember from these sessions. One of them had just had her fourth son. She was devastated.
She was also Catholic and believed God was punishing her by giving her boys. In
high school, she’d gotten pregnant and her parents had pretty much locked her
in the attic and forced her to give up that child for adoption. She’d given up
a daughter and that’s why God was giving her boys. She also didn’t have a very
supportive husband…think he drank…and she was, as we say now, a hot mess. She
was still in counseling when I left and I hope she eventually came to terms
with herself.
The other woman had one child and not
much of a support group outside of our sessions. She was amazingly talented
artistically. At Christmas time one year, she brought us each a cookie that she
had baked and decorated. It was the most beautiful cookie I had ever seen. I
simply couldn’t eat it and used it as an ornament on my tree until it finally
fell apart one year. I wonder if she was ever able to go on and do something
with her talent.
Now, I’ve mentioned that John and I
separated and then got back together. Well, things didn’t go well, so we were
going to separate again. This time I was the one that was adamant. I told John,
“I didn’t want to share the same air we breathed if that’s all we shared.” I
gave him a hard date by which he had to move out of the house…I was making
enough money by then to make the mortgage payment.
It was John this time who worked hard
to convince me we should not separate. He brought up marriage counseling and
wanted to go. I was still involved with Ryther then, so he went to see someone
there. He did not like the counselor he was seeing one little bit. So, I asked
Paul if he could be neutral enough to counsel us both.
At our first meeting with Paul, he
told us he’d see us five times and on the fifth time, he’d tell us to either
call it quits or what we needed to work on to stay married. On the fifth time,
Paul told us there was a lot of glue holding our marriage together, but we didn’t
know how to communicate with each other. For the next year, John and I went
every other week to meet with Paul. Toward the end, we got to where we’d say, “Fine,
don’t talk to me now. You can pay $40 to hear it next week.”
John and I learned how to communicate
and communicate well. I was a little worried because he went to Alaska to work
for the summer as a carpenter for New England Fish fairly soon after we
finished counseling. Since there weren’t any phones where he was, he wrote letters.
If I have any of the ones he wrote to me, they’re probably in the trunk in the
attic. AJ hadn’t yet learned to read well, so John wrote letters using
pictographs. I saved those letters in AJ’s baby book and AJ still has them.
They were fun and clever and certainly showed just how much he loved his boy. I
think I’d like to read them again as a matter of fact.
That was right around 1977. Move ahead
to 1979. We had finally gotten pregnant…only took five years, but we had a
great time getting there. We showed up for our childbirth classes at Group
Health. There was a woman there alone. She said her husband was running late.
Imagine our surprise when in walked our counselor, Paul. At least he learned from our presence his counseling provided positive results.
During childbirth, we found out Paul
and his wife had a daughter and had lost another child. I don’t remember if it
was at childbirth or later. In any case, their daughter had been an only child
for a long time. It was so nice to see him again, but John took exception to
Paul’s attitude toward the only child getting a sibling…she’ll need to just get
over it.
I gave birth to Thor on a Friday. I
had to stay in the hospital longer than planned because I hemorrhaged after
Thor was born. I think it was the day I went home, but suddenly, there was Paul
in the hallway…his wife had just given birth to his son.
A couple of years went by and I was in
need of a counselor, or at least some advice. Paul was in private practice, so
I made an appointment. I was in a lot of pain because an extremely good friend
had a husband who was abusive. He had told her she could not see me again because
John had threatened to break both his arms if he ever hurt her again.
This was someone with whom I spent
part of every single day for at least three years. Suddenly, she and her kids
could no longer be a part of my life. It hurt and it hurt a lot. Paul’s advice,
however, didn’t ease the hurt in any way. He had seen my friend and her husband
for counseling (my recommendation) at least once, so he was aware. His advice
to me was to stay in touch with her. I was to pretend she was on an island that
didn’t have outgoing mail or phones. I should still call and send cards and
letters.
I never saw Paul again after that
session. I felt a bit betrayed because his advice didn’t assuage my pain.
Eventually, my friend did get a divorce, but moved much further away. I still
see her on occasion and when I do, it’s like we just got together yesterday.
She’s happy now and I’m happy she’s happy, but it would be absolutely super if
she lived around the corner from me like she once did.
Sitting here at the keyboard, I’m
amazed by how my mind has traveled through some of those back years and
memories. Pam, begonia; Susan, begonia; Ryther, Paul; childbirth class, Paul;
my friend, Paul. I know exactly how Pam and my other friend are doing, but I
have no idea about Susan or Paul. I sincerely hope they are having great lives…they
added so much that was beneficial to mine.
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