Day Eighty-Three: The five most foolish things I’ve heard from parents in custody cases

Source: Dr John Bullas (Flickr)

I’ve worked as secretary for a psychologist for a few years now. One of his areas of specialty is Family Law cases–specifically when children are alienated from one parent. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t. I know that these people are going through tough times and everyone is their enemy, but hell, I just get paid to make the appointments, take your money, and smile politely when you walk in the door.

(Note: I am not a psychologist. These views are entirely based on my own observations and experience. Although they are based on things that actual people have told me, I am not referring to any specific individuals; rather, I’m noting the things I hear all too often from many cases.)

 

The magistrate said there was no evidence of the abuse that was alleged, so there should be no reason my kids can’t see me.

No reason except that they don’t want to. It’s not fair, and it sucks, but one proclamation isn’t going to suddenly reverse years of negative thinking. You might be a great guy who’s been shafted by a vengeful ex; your kids probably know less than half the story (and heard most of it from your ex). It’s going to take time to change their attitudes towards you. So, hey, welcome to therapy!

 

My child was petrified of coming; he/she cried all the way here.

Since the only reason they know about it is because you told them, it can be safely assumed that their fear stems directly from yours. If you told them that they’re being forced by a judge to go to an unfamiliar (but perfectly pleasant, I might add) place where they’ll be forced (again) to see their estranged father/mother, then I can totally understand why they bawled their eyes out or refused to get in the car. If you told them that they were going along to have a chat to a nice man about how they’re feeling, things might have gone a little better. No sensible psychologist would dump an alienated parent and child into the same room together at the first session; the psychologist probably told you that when you came along for your individual session. It’s telling that most of the Orders I read have to specifically prohibit the parents from talking about Court Orders or matters with their children.

 

They said we’d only need three sessions/ Why is this taking so long?

I can’t claim to know what happened in your family unit to make your children not want to spend time with you, but I can make a pretty solid bet that it didn’t happen over the course of three isolated one-hour sessions. So why would you expect that it can be reversed in that period? Therapy is an individual experience, and depending on the client, progress can be achieved in two sessions, twenty sessions, or (sadly, sometimes) never. In these types of cases, it’s usually between twenty and never. (Also, while we’re on the topic, don’t listen to what your lawyer suggests about the frequency and length of therapy. They have no idea.)

 

I’m just going to email/call my ex and tell them straight up to cut the crap/stop lying/give me my kids.

Remember how you’re in a Court case? Do you remember why you had to go to Court? It’s probably because you couldn’t work things out just between the two of you, so needed to involve lawyers and judges and Court Orders. Contacting your ex informally and giving them a piece of your mind is akin to pogo-ing onto the thin ice that everyone else is very delicately skating over. If you don’t want to give your ex another piece of evidence of your “abusive nature” to wave in Court, then keep things cool and cordial. Speak to them only when you have to, or not at all. Everything else can be handled by your lawyers. You’re paying them enough.

 

Can I talk to the psychologist about fees? I just can’t afford this after the legal stuff. I can’t even afford a cup of coffee!

One of my favourites, this one was said to me by a man who was carrying a thermos of coffee that he’d brought from home. “You poor man!” I should have said, rushing to wrap him in a warm blanket. “It’s OK; we’ll just give you some free counselling, shall we?” No, what I really wanted to say was, “Gee, I’ll bet those starving kids in Africa would weep to hear it, sir.” (What I actually did was smile apologetically and advise that I can’t do anything about the fees.) I get it. You’ve paid tens of thousands of dollars to lawyers and been dragged through the Court system for six years with no real outcome or progress. Unlike a lawyer though, the psychologist isn’t billing hours for every single moment that he’s even thinking about your case. He’s trying to work stuff out, so you don’t have to go back to Court.

 

 

There’s nothing like watching broken families to put you right off marriage and children. In the end, though, it comes down to whatever is going to be the least damaging for the kids. And if that means suffering through instant coffee brought from home, then so be it.

 

TB

Day Eleven: Be good; they’re watching us

 

Another year of Big Brother has wrapped up, and with it the conversations around the authenticity of the poor suckers who lived in that fishbowl. Was she really that nice a person or did she just hide any negative aspects of her personality? Did he really come in ‘just for the experience’ or was he looking for a media career? Was that relationship the real deal or a play for the cameras?

Sometimes I wonder what kind of life I would lead if I were followed around by a team of a burly cameramen. (I assume burly only because of the equipment they have to carry. Also, probably sweaty.) I’ll often find myself in the kitchen, about to throw out the rest of a meal that I don’t really want, and my hand pauses, hovering over the bin.

If someone were watching me right now, what would they think of me?

Now, admittedly, this kind of borders on paranoia, so I want to make the distinction: I don’t actually think there are cameras in my house, and I discount the likelihood of a family somewhere in, say, Russia judging me for my actions. It’s just that I can’t help but imagine what it would be like.

If you knew someone was watching your every move, would you change your behaviour? In psychology it’s called the Observer or Hawthorne effect. Studies conducted to examine the effect of changes in workplace conditions on productivity found that all of the changes, no matter how small, impacted productivity (usually positively), but productivity always dropped off after the completion of the study, even with all the positive changes. Only years later, when older experiments were analysed, did researchers begin to realise that the common vein through the studies was that people were told they were being observed.

A show like Big Brother, where your audience are also the ones who can keep you in the game, is pretty much a giant Observer effect experiment. I find it hard to believe that you could completely forget that the cameras are there, and just behave as you do at home.

Here is a list of things that I may or may not do now, but certainly would NEVER do if I knew I was being watched:

Watch TV for more than two hours at a time without moving from a slouched position on the couch
Put recycling in the landfill bin
Throw away plastic bags instead of reusing them
Leave a tap running
Turn on every light in the house
Mutter to myself about how effing stupid everyone and everything is
Laugh openly at someone else’s misfortune
Sook like a little bitch about something inconsequential

Note that it’s not stuff like farting or peeing in the shower or picking my nose. I don’t really care if people know that I’m human. It’s just that I want them to think I’m a good human. I want them to think that I’m environmentally conscious (and to be fair, I do try really hard, but I don’t have a garden, so I have nowhere to put compost even if I did compost, so there). I want them to think I’m emotionally stable. I want them to think that I don’t hold grudges or have petty fights about stupid shit or cry myself to sleep because the cake I cooked didn’t turn out.

The funny part is that all that stuff I’ve just mentioned–being overly emotional, insensitive, destructive, inconsiderate–is ratings gold. I’m fairly sure that Big Brother manipulates situations just so that those horrible traits will come to the surface. The fact is that most people love to watch other people completely losing it. They want to watch people who make them feel OK about their own dirty habits.

I’ve tried to not be competitive; it doesn’t work. I’ve tried to drive all the way from A to B without having a rant at some other stupid driver; it’s just not me. I’ve tried being friends with every single person I meet; guess what? It’s tedious and boring and bad for my mental health. And it wouldn’t make good TV.

So, fair enough, don’t go out in public in your underwear and fart your way through the supermarket aisles. Don’t spontaneously abuse people in the street because you don’t like the cut of their jib. Probably avoid emotionally unloading while you’re at work or on a first date. But hell, when you’re in your own domain, be the slob you were born to be (if you were indeed born to be a slob). Remember that people probably aren’t watching you unless they have a telescope and a creepy disposition.

The Big Brother contestants only really have to pretend for three months, tops. The Kardashians probably don’t even know what their real personalities are anymore (or the shade of their hair and skin). Imagine the strain of being someone you’re not for the rest of your life, just because somebody else may judge you poorly for being you. I like to stop and remember the oft-quoted words of someone whose entire career was based on a manufactured persona:

I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best. – Marilyn Monroe

Yeah!

A reality show about me would be incredibly revealing–and not necessarily in a good way–but at least it would be damn interesting viewing!

 

TB

P.S. I will accept pitches from any network wanting to make a show about me only if it can be called Breaking Bopf.