Reviving Ophelia - Mary Bray Pipher [72]
She had missed Lois, who was a good homemaker. Even though Lois had worked, she always had time for Myra. She helped her with lessons, sewed school costumes, decorated for holidays and fixed gourmet meals. She arranged parties that everyone in town loved. In short, Lois had spoiled Myra and her father.
Myra said, “After Mom left, there were nights when I sat alone in our big old house, looked at pictures of Dad, Mom and me. I cursed Mom for being selfish and breaking up our family.”
As we talked, things seemed a little less simple, even to Myra. Her father was financially successful but hard to live with. He had expected Lois to take care of the house and of Myra. He drank after work and some days he came home boisterous, other days sullen. He directed most of his anger at Lois, who wasn’t good at standing up for herself. Watching her mother, Myra decided that she would never take anyone’s bad treatment. Still she was angry when her mother made the same decision.
Myra said, “One reason I’m mad at her now is that she was such a great mom when I was little.”
“What happened after your mother announced she wanted out?”
“Dad and I worked on her. Dad told everyone about her affair. She didn’t get alimony. Both sides of the family pressured her. She about had a nervous breakdown.”
I said, “Your mom sounds like she can be as stubborn as you.”
We discussed Myra’s current social life. She had been popular in her hometown, but here she was a loner, going from a school of 225 students to one of 3,000. Even if she wanted to make friends, it would have been tough. But she didn’t want to. Myra particularly missed her boyfriend, who had been her main confidant. He wrote her for a while, but by now he had another steady girlfriend.
Myra had all the ordinary vulnerabilities of early adolescents, plus the pain of losing her family. Her trust level was zero, and she was too angry and discouraged to make friends. I was amazed she talked to me, and when she left I congratulated her on her willingness to trust a new adult.
Our next session began with Myra describing a blowup with Lois. She shouted when she told me about her mother’s refusal to buy her a computer.
“She says she can’t afford it, but I know she could borrow the fucking money.”
I asked her if she had any other feelings besides anger about the incident.
“I’m embarrassed. I know it’s wrong to call her a bitch. She is a bitch, but I shouldn’t call her that.” She said, “I want to kill her I get so mad.”
We talked about anger control. I recommended she punch a pillow the next time she felt angry. I also suggested that she jog until she had “outrun” her anger. It’s hard to be angry when physically exhausted. I encouraged her to write. “Write everything you can think of. Get those feelings out of your chest and onto a piece of paper. Then you can throw the paper away.”
Myra brought me her writing. At first it was pure rage—her mother was the source of all pain in her life and virtually all evil in the universe. But gradually as she wrote the anger softened. She began to write about the issues that the divorce raised for her—the loss of her life as she knew it, missing her boyfriend, her fear of a new school, her concern about being liked and the lack of trust that relationships could work.
I was pleased when the writing became more Myra-focused. She had been so obsessed with her mother that she hadn’t cared for herself. Too much anger, like too much compliance, stops growth. It’s impossible for blamers to take responsibility for their lives and get on with it. But now, after several months, Myra acknowledged that her mother had a right to her own life and had not been placed on the planet to meet her needs. She had expected her mother to live for her but now she could see that this wasn’t realistic. It set both of them up