Last Friday was Franny’s end-of-the-year party, held at a classmate’s house. Her teacher called me afterwards to tell me that my 10-year-old daughter had sobbed for two hours and had to be hand-held by an adult.
The gist: Franny’s best friend Josie, the girl with whom Franny had once coordinated outfits every night before school, with whom she trick-or-treated each year, with whom she saw her first concert (Katy Perry), with whom she choreographed dance performances for All-School Meetings…this girl has a new best friend.
And Franny is inconsolable. “We planned our whole lives together!” she told me later, fighting back tears.
Franny’s teacher explained that Franny’s unrequited love for Josie has led her to acquire desperate behaviors that are alienating other kids: clinging to Josie; being snarky to Josie’s new BFF; running around telling others how mean Josie and the new gal pal are being to her; public sobbing during lunch.
“Has she been getting calls for playdates?” the teacher asked me.
Some, but not as many as in past years. I had chalked this up to the school being small. One of her closest friends goes to another school, so Franny has played with her most often.
I felt embarrassed when the teacher asked, a mantra of “a good mother would have known what was going on” ping-ponging inside my head.
Franny is not one to talk about her feelings. She’s a sunny, “everything’s fine!” kind of kid. And then there’s this: I did not want Franny to have Problems. Little problems, yes, just not big ones. She was going to be the one who emerged from our apocalyptic divorce with just a few scrapes and sally forth to the lyrical future she has shared with me:
“I’m going to be a vet. My husband’s going to be a lawyer, so he’ll make enough money in case we need to put another room on the house. And I’m just going to have one daughter, Aria. Just one kid. Otherwise there’s fighting. And we’ll live here, in this house. You know, cherish the memories.”
Luca has had so many issues, and while I think he would have had the same ones if Prince and I had remained married, they might not have been so bad. Franny has been remarkably resilient, trotting back and forth between her dad’s house and mine, at age five, sharing her Emotional Intelligence strategy with her brother: “when I miss Dad, I just remind myself when I’m going to see him. And when I miss Mom, I just remind myself when I’m going to see her. And then I feel better.”
But, still, there had been signs: transient stomach aches; clinging to my arm while walking down the street; tearing up at the mildest of reprimands.
Burgeoning hormones, I told myself. And yet, I knew I was staving off the thought lurking in the back of my mind: “this wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t gotten the divorce.”
For years, Franny’s needs had taken a back seat to Luca’s, whose rages ripped through our household and sent her to the corner of her closet, scribbling notes that she would then slip underneath the door of whatever room Luca was in: “please stop fighting.”
As the teacher described Franny’s frantic and misguided efforts to get Josie’s attention, and her inability to pull herself together when she saw Josie arm and arm with the new BFF, a wave of empathy coursed through my body.
I had spent my marriage trying to get Prince’s attention. Sometimes it worked: he would appear with a present, heap buckets of praise when an article I’d written appeared in the paper, tell me how “beauteous” I was, as if I were a portrait.
But most of the time, I stayed home alone with Luca while he zipped off to all-boy ski trips, or jaunts to glitzy locales with one of his zillion friends, or sporting events that were reserved for “important business contacts.”
Once, after going to a club with a friend, he totaled his car. When he arrived homeat 2 a.m., miraculously without a scrape, he told me he’d had an epiphany. He announced, without so much as looking at me: “I’m so lucky I wasn’t killed. It made me realize how short life is. And I need to spend more time with my friends.”
He uttered these kinds of remarks not infrequently, and they were always so confusing, interspersed as they were with the grand, showy gestures of admiration for me in front of others.
He’s done the same kind of thing with Franny. Texting her pictures of clothes he’s bought for her; calling to tell her the weekend plans, jammed with parties and fun outings. And yet: he rarely takes her on the Friday of his timeshare weekend, despite my urging. His work schedule, he says, doesn’t permit that kind of commitment.
The teacher asked me what I was going to do to help Franny come up with strategies to navigate her friendships. This was a question with only one implied, acceptable answer.
“I’ll see if I can get her some therapy,” I said. “I don’t know if Prince will go for it. But I’ll ask him.”
Surprisingly, he agreed. Perhaps because I promised to pay for it. Perhaps because he realized that years of denying Luca’s problems allowed the problems to mushroom.
So Franny will be starting therapy later in the summer, when she gets back from camp. I love this therapist. I had taken the kids to her a few times a couple years ago. She told jokes in her Boston accent, and through some kind of Master Therapist mojo got two button-lipped kids to talk.
After Prince put the kibosh on the therapy, I had one session with her privately, to get her assessment. She showed me a picture Franny had drawn during one session: a flower smack in the middle of the paper, surrounded by white space.
“That’s a very lonely flower,” she said.
But it’s agonizing to think of my freckle-faced kid, my effervescent goofball with the infectious giggle and fashion panache, folding her existential angst into a tidy little package she keeps hidden inside of her.
It’s agonizing to imagine her in her teens and twenties, chasing after charismatic men that, behind the razzle-dazzle and the funfunfun, are just not that into her.
And yet. All kids have something. Girls, in particular, seem to have drama. She has to learn to work it out. It could be worse, much worse.
Last weekend I went for a jog, past one of the grand houses in my neighborhood, a rust-colored manse with blue shutters, and a well-tended front yard. A family was standing by a flower bed, their son, maybe ten, was kneeling as he weeded. He was bald, just a few wisps of hair sticking out from his head. He turned towards me as I jogged past, his face gaunt and yellow. He stared at me with that otherworldly expression sick kids have, when they’ve endured things most adults haven’t. Then he turned back to the ground beneath him and went back to yanking out weeds.
I hugged Franny when I got home. I told her we should count our blessings.
And we should. Because we have them.
Girl drama is so hard. And while the divorce and family drama may have played a part in all this, hormones and burgeoning adolescence are probably primarily to blame. You’re very wise to get her a therapist to talk with, because she’s unlikely to want to burden you with it. I have a fairly sunny child myself, so I understand the dynamic. I also had exactly the intense friendship issues and breakups your daughter is experiencing, and I was from, until the age of 21, an intact family. It probably has more to do with having an emotionally absent father than a divorce situation; Prince would have been remote even if you were still together. You’re also right to foresee relationship problems and boyfriend drama later on, and that can be really painful. Good for you for getting her support.
“But most of the time, I stayed home alone with Luca while he zipped off to all-boy ski trips, or jaunts to glitzy locales with one of his zillion friends, or sporting events that were reserved for ‘important business contacts.’”
===> This was the story of my marriage. For 26 years my husband (now ex) always had something more pressing than spending time with me and our family — martial arts tournaments; spelunking trips; riding with the rescue squad; studying meditation with Maharishi; training for, traveling to, and participating in 100 mile foot races; going on NuSkin cruises, etc.; finally he took a job that required 100 % travel, 100 % of the time.
“Once, after going to a club with a friend, he totaled his car. When he arrived homeat 2 a.m., miraculously without a scrape, he told me he’d had an epiphany. He announced, without so much as looking at me: ‘I’m so lucky I wasn’t killed. It made me realize how short life is. And I need to spend more time with my friends.’”
===> Boy does this sound like my ex. He uttered gems like this all the time. Words spoken by the true narcissist. One thing I often heard was, “You sure are lucky to have me.”
I’m grateful to have found your blog. It helps me to remember that I am not the only one who has suffered demoralizing and debilitating trauma perpetrated by an ex.
Linda, I’m glad you’ve found validation reading my blog. That’s one of the reasons I write it — to build a sense of community for people who don’t know a lot of others who share their story.
Thanks for your insight, Jenny. I think you’re right, she would be dealing with an unavailable dad, divorce or no divorce. And I don’t know any female who escapes girl drama entirely — even in adulthood!
Wow Pauline, I can relate. My own daughter has seemingly been a rock throughout my ordeal — mostly, I believe, because she was so much younger at the time of the divorce (she was 5, my son was 8). So while my son has strong memories of us together as a family, my daughter does not. And this is significant.
My son wants desperately to get back to the way things were before. My daughter barely remembers “before.”
But what she has learned throughout it all is how to please. She feels she must be one child in one home, and another in the other (because they hate me so much — and talk about it — I’m sure she finds herself trying to “un-me” her mannerisms, personality, etc.). But what I wish more than anything in the world is that she could just feel comfortable being herself. However, because of the constant back-and-forth, the two weeks with the others then two weeks with me, her adaptability and flexibility has morphed into something scary to behold: I don’t think she has a strong sense of self. I see her modeling her clothes after her BFFs, adopting their mannerisms, taking on their life goals as her own, etc.
Just last night, I had her draw four boxes on a piece of paper and label them: “Mom, ” “Step mom,” BFF 1 and BFF 2. Then I had her list the attributes, characteristics and expectations she FEELS from each. Then I asked her to turn it over, put her name on the top and list what SHE wants.
It was an interesting activity, to be sure…
Anyhow, just wanted to chime in and let you know that the girl drama is alive and well in many of our homes. I’m so tired of my ex claiming that the kids are so “flexible” and that they’ll be “just fine,” yet I’m seeing behaviors and mannerisms that are direct results of their crazy- chaotic-tumultuous life. And yet these are only the immediate consequences; I can’t even begin to imagine the long-term ramifications.
Ugh…
(And by the way, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the reminder at the conclusion of your post that we all have many blessings. You couldn’t be more spot on…)
I’ll net this out.
First of all, I’m so sorry for what you went through in your marriage. The effects are pervasive. We’re worn down by them (in more ways than one).
Secondly, I’m terribly sorry for what Franny is going through – and you, in trying to help her – and (possibly?) feeling guilty where we all do as parents, especially divorced parents, but where some of the problems (at least) are way beyond your control.
I applaud you for seeking assistance for her, and I hope it helps.
My last remark:Those who think that divorce doesn’t impact children in major ways, and who take their reactions to it casuallyshould think again.
Of course, there are situations in which the children are far better off in a divorced arrangement. And the parents as well. But to think that kids won’t feel the sting and confusion in many ways for many years is, in my opinion, misguided.
Mikalee, I love that exercise you did with your daughter and I’m going to try it out on mine. Brilliant!
I remember friendships moving on (and feeling guilty about moving on from another friend) but most of that started a year or two later when I was young. Still, I think it is a natural–albeit painful–part of growing up. It is normal for her to be really upset, but perhaps not to be publicly inconsolable. Therapy can’t hurt, so good for you!
Great post, Pauline. The greatest heartache my daughter suffered in grade school was the feeling of being less than many of her classmates because she was on the school lunch program, and because I could afford only second hand clothing, although the clothing didn’t look second hand. It was also hard on her because I know I spent more time running after her younger brother as I never knew what he was going to get into next. Maybe because I’m probably older, I’ve come to believe that therapy is not necessarily the first or best option to deal with any issue. And, I’m not criticizing those who choose therapy. And, divorce does make things harder to deal with at times.
Karen, I’m curious about your take on therapy and what you think might be a better option. I think therapy can be a huge waste of time and money unless you have the right therapist, and it’s hard to know who the right one is sometimes. I wonder what you tried in lieu of therapy that worked.
Well, when dealing with basically “normal” childhood issues I would find outlets that engage the interests of the child, participatory activities that can be done with others, as well as someth, aning that can be done alone. Anything that makes the child feel good about themselves and gives a sense of accomplishment. Whether it’s sports, the arts, volunteering, etc. As you know, a good therapist is hard to find. The few I tried for my kids were basically worthless. Their heart just didn’t seem to be in their job. Because of my financial situation, I didn’t have a lot of options. The main thing I did was make Friday nights “family night”. Friday night we stayed home, ate pizza or popcorn together or the kids put on skits for me, or had their friends over to join in. PS Sometimes as you know some things aren’t easily or quickly resolved and the best thing a parent can do is not take on other
I’m on my droid…. The best thing a parent can do is not take on anyone else’s expectations, judgements and criticism of their parenting or their children. As parents, esp divorced parents, we have enough bs we put on ourselves.
We make Friday Family Night too. Also, my daughter just signed up to volunteer to help out at the Pet Adoption Booth at our local Farmers Market on the weekend. She loves animals and is very responsible, so I think it’ll be a great experience for her — puppies and kittens generally love you back!
I came from an “intact” family, but the dynamic there was one of control and I’m not sure to this day how my father has endured it. I married my children’s father at 23 and I’ve now been divorced for nearly 7 years. The first year of my daughter’s life saw me away from home more often than I was at home, as her twin brother was hospitalized 500 miles away and the prognosis was grim. I know she has attachment issues as a result; her father was more bonded to his computer than to his living, breathing children, and when she was shown any physical attention, she was sitting on his lap when he put her on web-cam to show off to his “girlfriends” (apparently cheating on me was one of the ways he deemed appropriate to manage his “sadness” with regard to his youngest son). Her older brother, who was 5 and had just been diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome and ADHD a week before the twins were born, has stronger memories of how bad things were between me and my ex. The twins were barely a year old when I packed up the kids and left; my youngest son calls his father “Dad,” but it’s just a name to him, like yours is Pauline and mine is Victoria. The real “fathering” has come from his stepfather, his maternal grandfather, and his uncles.
As for my daughter, who only knows what she has been told by her older brother about the divorce; she vascillates back and forth between icy cool detachment, and displays of major separation anxiety whenever the occasion arises that she has to spend time without me. Last summer, she told a CPS worker that she hated her stepmother and visiting her father during their bi-weekly timeshare visits, because he never paid much attention to her except to scold her and used her and her stepsister as caregivers for his two pre-school aged children. So the worker took us aside and said that if my daughter didn’t want to go to her father’s, she certainly didn’t have to; and my daughter has held firm to that ever since. I’d also love to see her wipe out any contact with her paternal grandmother, who is 59 years old and an extreme narcissist and hypochondriac who cries over the phone *to a 9-year-old girl* that her grown children (my ex and my ex-SIL) never call her and she’s “getting older and lonelier” every day! During their conversation just last night, my daughter set the phone to “speaker” a couple of times so I could hear parts of what was being said. When I asked my daughter why she didn’t just pass the phone to me and, essentially, end the call, she said, “I feel sorry for her, Mommy.” I tried explaining in a non-alienating sort of way that Nana’s problems are entirely of her own making and that Nana has to accept the consequences of what she did to turn people away from her. My daughter looked at me as though I had suddenly started speaking in tongues.
I have also noticed that my daughter will – out of the blue – run up to people she has only just met to give them rib-crushing hugs. She runs hot and cold with her stepfather (my second husband), and shuts right down whenever her behaviour towards him is called into question. I’ve also listened patiently as she relayed tales of “girl drama” at school with kids telling her she is “fat” and the dissolution of the relationship with her BFF, the details of which I have yet to extract but from the sound of things, my daughter said something to her BFF that was taken the wrong way and feelings were bruised. What I told my daughter was something to the effect of, “Whatever (negative) role you played in this, go to her and apologize for it, and hopefully she will do the same.” I’ve been told that the friendship has been mended, but the little girl has stopped calling our house looking for my daughter. We’ll just have to wait and see what the summer months bring!
I like the idea of a fixed weekly family game/activity night, and helping out at the Pet Adoption Booth sounds like a wonderful idea for Franny.
As for us, I know after writing all of this out and taking it all back in that family therapy is on the horizon. Please wish us well.
Wishing you well, Victoria!
Hi Victoria,
I say this not to be offensive, but after reading a number of articles about your kids, I think you are kind of narccistic. You are putting your sense of self-righteousness above the well being of your children. It’s important to realize that you married your ex by your own choice, and a marriage does not fail because of one party alone. It’s time to stop trying to find faults with your ex and move on.