Strangers In The Night

 Entry 1     3:04 p.m.

Last night, as I was upstairs avoiding Jane The Virgin, binging that happens every single day since Leiney arrived home, Jenny got a call from Abby's therapist.  I had emailed the therapist last week to make sure she knew how seriously ill Jenny is, concerned that Abby and Jenny may have achieved détente, but have yet to establish entente between them. We got rid of the peace table years ago, but it sure would come in handy, let me tell you.  

Jenny took the call in her room. I was in the office watching Quincy, because I am a nerd, when she came in upset.  Clearly, the therapist had talked to Abby trying to help move the peace process along. She informed Jenny that Abby felt Jenny still hadn't apologized for failing to help her through her difficult middle school years. It isn't untrue that we, Jenny and I, dropped the ball. Abby switched schools on her own in 6th grade to attend the neighborhood school, and to get away from her mother at TOPs. During this time Leiney was having terrible depression, disassociation, and PTSD (although we didn't understand that there was PTSD until much later), such that she tried to kill herself and ended up at Children's in the psych ward. (It turns out she was a target of severe sexual harassment, Leiney was, a story that on its own merits posts about, maybe later). Every day Leiney was running away from school, or couldn't get out of bed, or was cutting herself, or threatening suicide, even before the harassment--in fact it began in the spring of her 8th grade year. And so, all hands were on deck to save her. We would check on Abby, ask if she was ok, and she always said everything was fine. We didn't dig. Didn't press when we noticed she started isolating herself in her room. We would ask, would talk to her, but she would shut us down. We failed to see it. 

One night, when Abby was in 8th grade, we were eating dinner--we used to always eat dinner as a family before Jenny got sick (and I love that Abby, even if she doesn't break bread with us all the time, always is upstairs to have dinner with us today). Anyway. we were at the dinner table. Abby was upset.  Jenny would often prod her about her eating habits, and I am sure she was that night. Abby is a difficult eater--but her relationship with food was/is not helped by Jenny's prodding. Anyway, Abby was sick of it. Sick of it. She let go and unloaded on Jenny--and on me.  She said that we did nothing to help her, that we focused on Leiney that she came second, etc. etc.  She was yelling, crying, upset. And not wrong. We had failed her. 

Jenny's response was to tell Abby that she had been taking her to the doctor, that she got her migraine help and kept trying, that she did her best, but that Leiney had been so gravely ill that when we asked Abby how she was doing and she said fine, and seemed happy and got straight As, we assumed everything was fine. Now, Jenny and I had been discussing for several months our concerns about Abby's seeming hermitage at home, and tried to see what was wrong, but neither of us went the extra mile. Jenny was rarely home in the evenings by this time, always out with friends.  I was home, so really, I felt absolutely terrible. 

When I spoke, I apologized, and asked what we could do to help. Jenny spoke, and again rather than acknowledging that we had failed, offered explanation as to why it wasn't her fault. Abby, screaming at her, stormed into her room.  Jenny did not follow. I waited for things to cool off and sought Abby out in her room, and apologized again. And again. It's not that I ignored her, I just took for granted how seemingly well adjusted she was and would comment on it all the time, but I believe looking back I was lying to myself. I should have known, must have known her struggles.

Abby and I mended fences. I asked Abby to come downstairs and hang out with me at night, which is where I was spending my time with Leiney. She started to do so, and we started to really hang out and connect--although she still doesn't share her feelings or emotions very often with me, even now. Abby and I do things together, and have since then. When we lived in Ravenna, we would walk together frequently. We go thrifting together, searching for music--she likes vinyl, I like obscure compilation CDS. We go to movies. We Christmas shop.  We hang out.  Now, it is not unlike a dog chasing it's tail, an endless spiral, but because they don't get along and mended fences, even before Jenny got sick, they didn't hang out.  Jenny's focus, even now, is on Leiney. Even now.  

Jenny never really has apologized or owned any of this as a failing of OUR parenting.  

So, last night Jenny came to me after the call and announces, "Abby hates me." Saying she heard from the counselor that Abby believed that she never helped her with many things, like getting a counselor--which is not true (Jenny did get her many counselors), she, Jenny, was enraged.  I mean, a lot of the things Abby is upset about don't match the history--all the things Jenny has done for her.  And there is a lot that Jenny has done, more than a lot.  Focusing on the misrecollection of Abby, however material,  misses the point. Abby is upset with her for parental failings, and Jenny hasn't mended fences with her. I don't know if she has the ability.   She kept focusing on Abby's incorrect claims and saying she isn't a bad mother. 

I suggested they spend more time together, find things to do with one another. Jenny responded with two reasons why that won't work: First, she and Abby don't share common interests. Apart from television, she and Leiney don't either, btw.  In fact, Jenny and Abby used to cook, bake, and sew together, when Abby was much younger.  Jenny, who can barely walk said, "I like the outdoors and she hates the outdoors." I again suggested that she focus on things that they can do together. Jenny then said Abby doesn't even talk to her when she gets home. As I write this, Abby just walked in the door and the two had a nice discussion about Abby's day.  That isn't unusual. But Abby can come home surly, and often does.  Jenny, when talking about Abby being surly, is misremembering.  I noted this happens to me too, quite frequently in fact, Abby is surly, brusque.  That is the nature of the teenager I said, but you just have to keep plugging on, keep trying. 

So, Jenny decided she had to immediately go talk to Abby. She went and got her from the teen lair, and the two went upstairs, Jenny not being able to weather the cold of the basement--and it was cold. For about 10 minutes, as I was in my office, I heard nothing. I was optimistic that they were making progress.  Then, I hear Jenny's door open and Abby say very loudly, "I can't do this right now."  She stormed down the stairs and went back to the teen lair, Lei eyes following closely behind her, I saw as I approached Jenny's room. 

Again, Jenny announces Abby hates her, upon seeing me. I tell her it's nonsense, and remind her that Abby was almost giddy with joy when she called me the other day from school saying she wanted to go to Barnes and Noble to get a gift she had in mind for her mom.  Jenny kept repeating, "Why isn't she mad at you, she blames everything on me."  

I asked what happened, and, well, the initial discussion I am unclear about, but at the end, Jenny was defending herself, telling Abby her claims weren't true and asking her why I wasn't sharing in the blame. I suggested the two of them needed counseling together to work through this, and left to check on Abby.

I found her on her bed, Leiney's arm squarely around her. I asked if I could talk to Abby alone, and talked her through the pain. I talked too much. 

First, I apologized again. I acknowledged that we failed her during that difficult time. I didn't offer a defense, didn't try to correct the record. I was frank with her, and told her that I didn't know if her mother would ever give her the apology she wants or the attention she deserves. I told her that Jenny loves her very much, which is true, but that we have to meet people where they are, and can't expect to get the treatment we deserve. I told her she had a right to be angry AND that she still needed to make an effort to reconnect with her mother. 

I worry about her feeling guilty, I told her, after her mother dies. And, even more clear than I have ever been, I told her that her mother is going to die and the two of them need to work this out. 

I had my arm around her, she cried a bit, but I got her to laugh as well. She really understands her mom, maybe better than me. When I asked if she talks about her family problems with anyone besides her therapist--an important thing to do--she said that she does very much have friends she talks to about the family. I pulled her out of the dark place and went back to Jenny. I suggested again that they both need to make an effort to spend time together, and Jenny said, She hates me, "I'm not a terrible parent, I'm not. I'm going to take my meds and go to bed." I returned to the office.

About 10 minutes later, Abby came upstairs in a good mood, baked cookies and watched bad television with Leiney for more than 2 hours. They were so loud laughing and giving running commentary I had to stop trying to watch any television or read and just listened to them having a good time, happy they have each other.

Entry 2     9:06 p.m.

 Like straight espresso or a good single malt scotch, Tom Waits is an acquired taste. A brilliant songwriter and genius artist and performer. His music is my comfort food. Happy Christmas!