excuse for that: Connor had a track meet that weekend at UMass, and Brad was going to cheer him on. That’s also why he had the car and I was taking the train.
Only my parents and Leslie and her husband, Todd, knew about the job in Manchester. The rest of the extended family would think Brad was just gone for the day, being the supportive father that, of course, he was.
It wasn’t the awkward moments at the party that I was half dreading as I settled onto a bench with a cup of coffee. It was the hour or two Sunday morning when I would be alone with my parents that I wasn’t looking forward to.
As I sat in the late morning sunshine, I silently practiced the responsesDr. Kirtland encouraged me to use if my parents asked questions about Brad that I didn’t feel ready to answer. It hadn’t taken long in that first counseling session for the conversation to swing to my parents. Dr. Kirtland said sometimes that’s where the beginning of the journey is.
I had said, “But I don’t want to talk about my parents. This is not my parents’ problem, it’s mine.”
To which he said, “Yes, but we’re not talking about ownership of a problem right now. We’re not even talking about the problem itself. The problem of you not being able to sleep is actually not what we’re dealing with right now. It’s not even your husband’s leaving you.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“We’re going to focus on you. Not your marriage. Not your parents. We’re going to focus on how you see you.”
“But you just said sometimes the journey starts with the parents.”
“I think for you, it might. I think we’re going to need to understand to what extent you rely on your parents for part of your validation. When we’ve figured that out, we’ll spend some time figuring out why you’ve relied on your marriage for the rest of it.”
Validation. The word didn’t sit well with me. I immediately thought of a parking stub. I wanted to tell him I didn’t like that word, but that just sounded childish in my head.
Our session had been nearly over at that point anyway, and Dr. Kirtland had quickly moved on to coach me on how to handle my parents’ questions. Before I left, he told me gently that I could eliminate this particular stressor in my life by just telling them the truth. Because then they would know. I mentally practiced his answers on the way home:
Mom and Dad, I appreciate your concern about Brad and me, and when there’s something you should know, I’ll be the first to tell you
.
This is not something we need to discuss this weekend. This weekend is about Leslie. Let’s just keep it about her, okay?
Brad’s checking out a job in New Hampshire. It’s a big move to make if he doesn’t like the job. We’re not rushing into anything
.
On the phone, the night before I left, Molly told me she thought the responses were perfect. And that I should practice saying them out loud.
“What if they ask why I haven’t gone up to New Hampshire to see Brad?” I asked her. “Or why he’s only been down once to see me?”
“That’s when you politely tell them that really isn’t any of their business.”
“I could never say something like that, and you know it.”
“Well, Janie, that’s why they keep intruding on your private life. You let them.”
It had hurt a little, hearing that from her, even though I knew after just an hour with Dr. Kirtland it was partly true.
“Do you think I rely on my parents for validation?” I asked.
She’d laughed, but it was light and quick. She hadn’t been laughing at me. “Did Jonah tell you that?”
“Dr. Kirtland thinks I find my validation in my parents and in my marriage. And since both of those relationships are kind of messed up right now, I’m messed up. It’s why I can’t sleep.”
“Did he say that’s why you can’t sleep?”
I ignored her. “I just don’t like that word. Validation. It sounds so … impersonal.”
“So call it something else.
Only my parents and Leslie and her husband, Todd, knew about the job in Manchester. The rest of the extended family would think Brad was just gone for the day, being the supportive father that, of course, he was.
It wasn’t the awkward moments at the party that I was half dreading as I settled onto a bench with a cup of coffee. It was the hour or two Sunday morning when I would be alone with my parents that I wasn’t looking forward to.
As I sat in the late morning sunshine, I silently practiced the responsesDr. Kirtland encouraged me to use if my parents asked questions about Brad that I didn’t feel ready to answer. It hadn’t taken long in that first counseling session for the conversation to swing to my parents. Dr. Kirtland said sometimes that’s where the beginning of the journey is.
I had said, “But I don’t want to talk about my parents. This is not my parents’ problem, it’s mine.”
To which he said, “Yes, but we’re not talking about ownership of a problem right now. We’re not even talking about the problem itself. The problem of you not being able to sleep is actually not what we’re dealing with right now. It’s not even your husband’s leaving you.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“We’re going to focus on you. Not your marriage. Not your parents. We’re going to focus on how you see you.”
“But you just said sometimes the journey starts with the parents.”
“I think for you, it might. I think we’re going to need to understand to what extent you rely on your parents for part of your validation. When we’ve figured that out, we’ll spend some time figuring out why you’ve relied on your marriage for the rest of it.”
Validation. The word didn’t sit well with me. I immediately thought of a parking stub. I wanted to tell him I didn’t like that word, but that just sounded childish in my head.
Our session had been nearly over at that point anyway, and Dr. Kirtland had quickly moved on to coach me on how to handle my parents’ questions. Before I left, he told me gently that I could eliminate this particular stressor in my life by just telling them the truth. Because then they would know. I mentally practiced his answers on the way home:
Mom and Dad, I appreciate your concern about Brad and me, and when there’s something you should know, I’ll be the first to tell you
.
This is not something we need to discuss this weekend. This weekend is about Leslie. Let’s just keep it about her, okay?
Brad’s checking out a job in New Hampshire. It’s a big move to make if he doesn’t like the job. We’re not rushing into anything
.
On the phone, the night before I left, Molly told me she thought the responses were perfect. And that I should practice saying them out loud.
“What if they ask why I haven’t gone up to New Hampshire to see Brad?” I asked her. “Or why he’s only been down once to see me?”
“That’s when you politely tell them that really isn’t any of their business.”
“I could never say something like that, and you know it.”
“Well, Janie, that’s why they keep intruding on your private life. You let them.”
It had hurt a little, hearing that from her, even though I knew after just an hour with Dr. Kirtland it was partly true.
“Do you think I rely on my parents for validation?” I asked.
She’d laughed, but it was light and quick. She hadn’t been laughing at me. “Did Jonah tell you that?”
“Dr. Kirtland thinks I find my validation in my parents and in my marriage. And since both of those relationships are kind of messed up right now, I’m messed up. It’s why I can’t sleep.”
“Did he say that’s why you can’t sleep?”
I ignored her. “I just don’t like that word. Validation. It sounds so … impersonal.”
“So call it something else.
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