Dear Cary,
It has been years since I have written to you. I appreciate your authentic approach, compassion, also humor.
My problem rears up from time to time over many years, really decades. I married quite young to a gifted man five years older than my seventeen years. He was an alcoholic battling many demons, who was also tenderhearted, funny, yet abusive. I was confounded by the complexity, the sheer challenge emotionally living with him.
I was ashamed and often fearful of setting off his rage. I told no one. Nonetheless, signs of my abuse became evident to my family of origin. Still, with their confused and limited support, I stayed. I could not leave the marriage and go home for more complicated reasons. I had no way to take care of myself. I had four children and loved them, cared for them, as best I knew how.
My creative leanings were my raison d'etre as were my children.
My second child, a daughter, sensitive, tenderhearted yet with a tough fragile nature, from her first year of life expressed episodes of passionate rage to the point of turning blue and passing out. I was terrified of her hurting herself, hitting her head when she went unconscious. I got in the habit of holding her, being extra protective of her around her older sister who was a sparkling, energetic three-year-old.
The doctor assured me she wasn't having epileptic episodes, but that she simply, well, not so simply, felt her emotions so strongly, so deeply that she could not contain them. The passing out eventually stopped by three years of age but my pattern of feeling a need to protect her continued over our lives. Even, now, with she being a grownup approaching middle age and my being a senior, I am deeply affected emotionally by her and her expression, for some years now, of rage at me.
Still, she is angry at me to do with my not listening as she wants me. I seem to have developed a sympathetic PTSD which I do have in regard to my former husband's battering, (I did leave him after some years and have led a mostly fulfilling, creative, independent life).
I experience fight or flee responses when she wants me to listen to her social anxiety issues, often to do with hostile persons or even dangerous scenarios, where I become acutely anxious, not able to hear her, only telling her to avoid the person or situation, when she just wants me to listen and not say anything. Of course also be sympathetic.
My oldest daughter thinks she has us all trained, her two brothers, herself, and me to respond as if she were in a critical place that we must pay close attention to while not judging her ever for her choices. She does not seem to see her own choices may be at cause. Her outbursts at me come between sweetness and kindness; she has loving, even seemingly angelic attributes. Still, I am at a loss as to how to communicate a boundary here and allow myself to let go. What would you do, Cary?
Married Young
Dear Married Young,
It is great that you know this: "She just wants me to listen and not say anything." But it's hard, isn't it, when you have that fight or flee response. Everything in you is screaming out to do something.
So the ability to simply listen to your daughter without reacting would be a good skill to have. There must be a way to acquire this skill. I think it can be done.
I suggest the next time you see her, for starters, no matter what you are feeling, just do this one physical thing: keep your mouth shut. Just, literally, close your lips together and listen. Just listen. If you feel the need to say something, shake it off. Try that. Just look at her and listen. Nod your head, make eye contact, listen. When she is finished talking, wait. If you need to say anything, just show her that you've heard, that you're taking it in.
You know that "active listening" thing? Sure, if you can do it naturally that's great. But saying, "I hear you saying that ... and when you say that I feel ..." can sound fake, like you read it in a book. It might be better to concentrate on the authentic feeling: You’re there to listen to her. Just let her words in, feel them, to notice what you feel, nod your head and indicate in your own way, Yes, I hear you, I get it, I understand.
The other thing is the boundary thing. What would a boundary be? Setting a time limit on how long you can sit there and listen to her? Refusing some of her demands? I guess the boundary would depend on what the incursion is. Is she taking too much of your time? Is she being threatening or belittling, you know, abusive. If so, that's a reason to just stop the conversation. You don't have take abuse. Where that line is, when someone is angry, it can be hard to tell! What is abusive language you must not tolerate, and what is her honestly confessing negative feelings and resentments, which might include you? That can be hard to judge.
I mean, we all have tender areas that can be aggravated if touched. You can ask her to stay off certain subjects, perhaps including talking about her father, because her father was also your husband, and I take it that episode may still be a little raw. You would want to try to keep bringing the conversation back to the present, to things that are going on now, to things that are happening today and in the room. You and her. Like, OK, "So what are you going to do today?"
Maybe you also need to give yourself a break! You've done what you could do. You've survived some bad stuff. You've brought up your daughters. They're on their own. You can't solve their problems. Your own life matters.
It might get better. If she keeps talking and she trusts you to listen, she might get to the good parts. She might start saying things that have been on her mind, that she wasn't sure were important or relevant but are about how she really feels. She might remember that she loves you, that you're her mother, that things haven't always been easy, that she's struggling also but doesn't want to hurt you or ruin your closeness.
About her fainting as a young child, I found what the doctor said simply astonishing. And yet, I found two articles on the Net that told me some things I did not know.
As this article states, "At least one in six kids will faint at some point before they reach adulthood, usually due to temporary lack of blood flow to the brain." And this one says, "Sometimes, a child’s nerves get the best of him so he faints during the school musical." So what the doctor said may seem odd, but I guess it's normal. It sounds like what you witnessed. She may have been experiencing extreme emotions about what she sensed was going on around her.
Anyway, back to the present: Who wouldn't be deeply affected by the rage of a daughter? You can't fix her, that's for sure. You can't fix other people. Even — maybe especially—your own flesh and blood.
All you really can do is listen, set some boundaries, and feel your way through it. I wish you luck, and I thank you for writing to me.
My toddler was a big-feelings-fainter too! If something caught him off guard, boom. First time was the scariest, then we carried a small spray bottle of water everywhere to spray him in the face to snap him out of it, funnier to me now. Good advice here on "just listen" – simple, powerful, true.