Middle of Everywhere - Mary Bray Pipher [130]
I wrote out the words and handed them to her. I said, "The lost lady had many people telling her who to be. She didn't really know who she was. She was trying to figure out what her life meant to her and to other people."
This small naming ceremony was the beginning of my identity work. I wanted to have an enticing label that described Chia to herself. Chia had few external or internal resources, and small problems became big problems because she had no one to help her with them and no ways to calm herself down.
She needed nurturing, identity building, and help developing some of the attributes of resilience. She needed someone to tell her stories and to encourage her to explore her new environment. The first few months, I told her about our town, about its parks and other beautiful places, about it history and cultural events, and about where to find good Asian restaurants. I told her many stories, of life in America, of families experiencing culture shock, of parents and children working things out, and of teenagers who were stressed finding a path to happiness. Whenever I could, I told her stories of hope.
I asked Chia about college and she said, "It is too hard and it costs too much money." I asked her about her dreams and she said, "I have no dreams." I touched her arm. "Everybody needs dreams."
At the end of the session I praised her for cooking for her father. I said, "That is an important job." I asked her if she wanted to come back. She asked, "How is your health, Miss?"
Session 2
Chia again started with a physical complaint—her shoulder hurt. But I was prepared for this by now and I said simply, "I am very sorry."
Chia said, "My dad still has his cough."
I asked if he'd been to a doctor and she looked worried. She said, "No, Miss. The doctor costs money."
I said, "I'll call for a free appointment at the health department. Let's get this checked out."
Today, Chia brought pictures of her grandmother and her aunt who had died. They were old-fashioned pictures, from another world. Her grandmother looked like she weighed about eighty pounds and her aunt had stooped shoulders and several missing teeth. Both the grandmother and the aunt were barefoot and dressed in traditional silk dresses.
Chia also had pictures of herself and her father. He was a skinny, wrinkled man in a dark suit, the same suit in every picture. But whenever he was with Chia in the pictures, his arm was on her shoulder. And Chia always wore pretty clothes that he had bought with his meager wages.
I pointed to his arm on her shoulder and said, "I can tell your dad loves you."
She said, "He is always crabby with me."
I told Chia I had read that Laotian parents didn't praise their children for fear that spirits would hear the praise and steal the children. Especially if parents had a wonderful child, it was good to insult that child. I said, "Your father loves you, but he is old-fashioned."
Chia nodded happily at this interpretation. I suspected that Chia's father wasn't a terribly well-adjusted person, but to criticize him was to criticize the only person who kept her tethered to the world. She needed ways to keep loving her father and yet become more confident and American. Somehow she needed to be able to feel loyal to him and to Laos and yet adopt some new behaviors.
I temporarily forgot my resolve to stop making suggestions and asked Chia if she and her father would consider visiting the Asian Center, a Buddhist temple, or the Catholic church that many southeast Asians attended. She shook her head no. I asked about a pet for her, or even a visit to the zoo. She said, "My father doesn't like animals."
I asked about a school dance that was coming up. Chia looked at me like I was crazy. "My father thinks that is too dangerous."
I paused and reminded myself of my earlier insight. At the very least, I needed to come up with less-ambitious assignments. I showed Chia how to breathe deeply and relax her muscles, and I gave her a relaxation tape to play when she had trouble sleeping. I also gave her a journal and said, "Every