Family dynamics help request
Sandra Dodd
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I have been writing and rewriting this post for months and things are getting more severe while I wait. I think it would be best to get the situation out there and see where my thinking is off so I am sending it to you and asking for an anonymous posting out of sensitivity to my husband.
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My question is about building those strong and trusting relationships that can develop as a part of unschooling and whether there is a point where that is no longer possible.
My family started our unschooling journey about 4 years ago, when our daughter was 4. The interest and decision to do so came pretty easily to both myself and my husband. Since then, I have taken the time/had the opportunity to learn about unschooling and continue to consciously deschool. My husband, while in agreement with our choice, has been less proactive in examining his attitudes and approaches. Not an uncommon situation, as I understand it.
Eight months ago, my husband and I moved our family (three of us, my daughter is 8). We wanted to shorten his 4 hour daily commute to improve his well-being so that he could participate more fully in our family life. He has had a hard time connecting with our daughter and she has said since she could talk that “Daddy doesn’t get me.” I thought that if he could be better rested and have more actual hours to spend with her that it might make a world of difference in everyone’s relationships. Unfortunately the opposite has happened.
Our family life since the move has become even more painful and fractured.
My daughter is grieving deeply the loss of her home. She is so angry at her dad that she does not want to be in the same room with him. She has begun to say that every time she sees him, she dies a little inside and that “either he goes or I do.” She started pulling out her eyebrows and eyelashes from the stress of it all.
My daughter’s days look similar to what we did at our old home with video games, cooking, art projects and playing with cats. She and I have a very sweet and wonderful relationship, with pretty normal bumps and learning on both our parts. She attends karate, improv and dance classes that she really enjoys and has begun to connect to a new friend here. But, when my husband comes home, she runs into the bedroom and refuses to come out. She does not want to see him or talk to him. She is a highly sensitive person and I think she has become the “canary in a coal mine” for our family dynamics, soaking up and expressing not only her anger and loss but the difficult feelings my husband and I are having around his relationship with her. I know that I resent that he can’t figure out how to be a dad she likes being around. Unfortunately, conversations between he and I are not productive. I have been trying to balance things, going back and forth (literally!) between them but I don’t see that helping and I am feeling exhausted by it.
My daughter and I went to see a family systems counselor twice but she does not want to see her again. Probably because she kept telling her that her dad was her dad forever. I went to see the counselor on my own but her talk about “consequences” for my daughter raised a red flag for me. As in, if she won’t come out and go to the Christmas tree farm with both me and her dad then there is no Christmas tree. Seems like punishing the child for the parent’s inability to connect in a meaningful way. My husband has also gone to see the counselor separately and is reading some materials recommended by her. At this point, I hang out with her in one room, while my husband is in another or I take her out to various activities while my husband does something else. So that is where we are at the moment.
My husband and I have participated in marriage counseling two different times before and really gotten no improvement in our relationship from it. Applying unschooling principles in my marriage has brought me some relief. I felt that even if our marriage was not great, I wanted my husband and daughter to have a chance to make a good relationship. Now my daughter says she has given her dad lots of chances and she just wants him to go away.
I have talked with her about my husband’s positive contributions to our family, about how he loves her so much that he goes to work every day so that we can be together . I tell stories of how we came to unschooling and how he realized he wanted her to have a choice about school and that we thought she would learn more happily in a non-school way so we decided for me to be an at home mom. I am trying to soften the situation without saying she should feel differently than she does. He rubs here the wrong way and pretty much always has.
I have sought to include my husband in our daily lives through phone calls, sending texts and photos and taking time to catch him up on our daughter's current interests. I have made time for them to spend together only to find my daughter alone in the bedroom while my husband is asleep on the couch.
I really want to have a loving and intact family but have started to question whether keeping the family together is the way to go when we are unable to be in the same room together. I know that I cannot control anyone’s behavior but my own. I practice gratitude and appreciation daily but, in truth, I don’t much like our family life. It has the “don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel” dynamic of my family of origin. I have done a lot of self-examination, changing and growing in recovery programs for adult children of alcoholics, mindfulness programs and plain old therapy. I am willing to support family change but not by taking actions that would cause my daughter to feel any more off balance and stressed than she already is. I can see that this emotional stew is damaging. I am also aware that the consequences of separating, especially the likelihood that she would need to attend school so that I could work, could be equally harmful. We could move back to our old home (we still own it) but that puts my husband right back into the awful commute and I’m not sure he’d be willing to do that anyway. And it doesn't solve the underlying relationship problems.
I would appreciate any insight or suggestions for helping my family.
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K Pennell
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semajrak@...
Besides being funny, I learned that day that my son is paying very close attention not only to my words, but to my mannerisms as well. That didn't stop when he started talking. I still see some of my ways expressed through him now, at age fourteen. Because of that, I try to be very mindful of my words and ways especially around him.
Kelly Callahan
***I know that I resent that he can’t figure out how to be a dad she likes being around.***
I am sure he feels this... not only is he getting it from you, he's getting it from your daughter loud and clear that he is not doing anything right. You didn't give any specifics about what he's doing or not doing that is helping or not helping.
Sandra Dodd
That’s okay. We don’t need specifics to discuss this in ways that it could help lots of readers.
Sandra Dodd
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I rarely post, but this situation sounds familiar to me. My dad has told me many times over the years that when I was first born and he was holding me for the first time, looking at me with wonder, I looked back at him with a look that clearly said, "You don't know what in the hell you are doing." He would laugh, but this sort of describes our relationship and my feelings toward him for at least the first 10 years.
It was different for me than for your daughter, as I am the oldest of four, and some of the other kids in my family always adored our dad. I went a lot of years thinking he could do better, and annoyed that he didn't, and arguing with him (pushing limits I would never with my mom). I didn't really respect his authority, because he didn't know what was going on, what to say, how to do things (like mom did them). Also he was not very interesting to me, or interested in me, I felt. He would get mad and give up too easily. He only spent time with me when he had to, when mom was working and grandparents were not available, and even then it was routine and minimal and boring or tense.
Later it got better. I started learning to play an instrument, taking lessons from a nice old man who adored me. A couple years later, the old man wanted my dad to learn to play an accompanying instrument. (He had taken piano lessons as a child, so had background knowledge.) I think participating in this shared activity provided opportunities for positive experiences between us that we otherwise did not have (maybe would not have had). Looking back, it helped a lot that our old friend really liked my dad, and was friendly and positive toward him. It helped me feel warmer toward my dad, and appreciate him. It gave us something to do together and to talk about sometimes. Also, my mom was not usually involved, and neither were my siblings. It was a rare and special thing for me (oldest of 4 kids, close in age) to get to do.
My mom is very competitive and needs to be right. Her parents were both this way. But my dad is not. I think a lot of my issues with my dad stemmed from my mom indicating that he was inferior for not being able to parent or run the house like she did. She was always subtly or directly criticizing him. She was a "have it all" mother in the 70s and 80s, working and raising kids, and she was clearly the boss. My dad was more traditional (men take care of things outside and women take care of house and children) although he let her be in charge. I think Mom sort of liked having me as an ally against him. My dad's parents divorced just before I was born, after it turned out his dad had a long term affair with his daughter's best friend. I did not think about the profound effect this probably had on my dad until I was a parent. In fact, I don't remember being encouraged to consider how my dad felt about things. This is something I do opposite with my kids, often pointing out how someone else's perspective may be different and why. My dad got better at his co-parenting role over the years, and was awesome with my youngest sister. She was also born prematurely, and he never took her for granted.
As an adult, studying parenting for my own babies, I have realized a few things. I am and always was a "highly sensitive person" (like the book), and an introvert, with some anxiety and shyness and academic giftedness thrown in. I'm detail oriented and I don't like change/transitions unless I'm the one initiating them (at my own pace). I like to make lists. I like to research, A LOT before making decisions, even simple ones. I forget things from the past easily, and I'm terrible with names. I very much like proper grammar and spelling. I'm probably a little OCD and a bit of a hoarder. I can focus on one thing for a very long time, and I'm a perfectionist (all or nothing). I'm not competitive. I like to think the best of everyone, of humanity, but if person hurts me, I will not easily forget or trust them again, and I'm likely to give up on trying to be close with them. I could go on, but really my point is: Turns out, MY personality is very much like my DAD's!! It took years before I could admit this, and then even longer to admit it without wincing. But it's true!! I have genetically inherited a lot of his personality traits.
I think we were too much alike, and he gave up too easily, and I held a grudge too hard, which my mom inadvertently fostered.
My dad and I are still not super close, but we get along fine, and I care about him. At my wedding 20 years ago, I had both my parents walk me down the aisle, one on each arm. And happily, I married a man who is the father of my dreams to our children. He adores them and appreciates them and plays with them, is interested in everything they do, and wants to give them all the attention he can. He sets a good example, prioritizes their happiness, genuinely enjoys them---everything I ever wanted! And he gets along fine with my dad, too.
My dad is a good grandpa to my kids, and a good dad to his adult children. He would do anything for us we ask. I think he and I were lucky to find a shared activity when I was around 11, to break the cycle we were in and learn to appreciate one another better. I was relieved to let that frustrating energy go, and move on. It also may have coincided with the age when I realized my mother was not perfect....
Alex & Brian Polikowsky
Sandra Dodd
Marty and Keith were a better team / pair / dyad.
Holly and Keith were peachy—by then Keith had some fathering skills and was calmer at work, too.
When Kirby got older, he started to like his dad quite a bit, and now if Kirby calls it’s probably for Keith and not for me. When he comes over, too, he’ll hug me and ask “Where’s dad?” I’m really glad about that.
It’s difficult, but if you can look at a larger picture it might help.
Also, it might be easier for the dad if there are subsequent children but that is NOT AT ALL meant to be a suggestion to have another child if the marriage is shaky. Just to say that in the case of many others who will read this discussion this week or this year, knowing that the dynamics can change with other kids or in later years might be worth keeping in mind.
Sandra
Sandra Dodd
http://sandradodd.com/issues/therapy
Alex & Brian Polikowsky
And one of the things that did , also, help me relax was reading about Keith and Kirby back then.That also made me relax that my son and his dad did not need to have this perfect father/son relationship now. That relationships change, kids grows and change, dads get more comfortable being dads.That maybe in the future they would become great friends, or not, and that it was okay.It did change for us. I suspect it will continue to change as my son gets older too.Alex P
anita_loomis@...
I am the original poster of this formerly anonymous request. I wanted to write to say thank you (again!) to this group and to update on our now much improved unschooling family life.
As is often recommended, I took time to read all the replies to my original post and to not respond. I took time to notice my internal responses to the suggestions and to the generously shared stories of how things have worked and not worked in other unschooling families. I can see that I had a secret wish or belief that by choosing unschooling (along with therapy and adult children of alcoholics groups and developing my own spirituality and by choosing to be a primarily happy and grateful person (I am a hard workerJ)) I could somehow avoid in my own family all of the perplexing difficulties that I faced growing up in a family with two alcoholic parents! But, whoops, this is exactly the magical thinking that many people coming out of dysfunctional families practice. I have been gently laughing about that.
By taking time to reflect on what others wrote, I have been able to soften my views about the relationship difficulties between my husband and daughter. And, as usual, when mom can chillax about something, everybody else can have their responses without an added layer of tension. Acceptance has, once again, shown itself to be the path that opens up possibility. I really felt that I could not accept that my husband and daughter do not have an emotionally warm relationship at this moment. But I can. I can accept this and not make it the focus of our lives together. I can be thankful that my daughter will play assassin in the back yard with her dad even though I wish they could play something that doesn’t involve trying to kill each other! It’s a game and they are engaging. Heck, maybe they can work it out on the imaginary battlefield.
So, it feels like another layer of the unschooling onion has been peeled off and I am a wee bit closer to the core of the practice. I appreciate the depth of thinking that goes on here at Always Learning.
semajrak@...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4QcyW-qTUg
When you find yourself thinking or saying something like "I wish they could play something that doesn’t involve trying to kill each other," move around a bit. Investigate that thought from different angles. Try to understand more of what's really going on. Like the dinosaur in the above illusion, you might end up seeing something that surprises and delights you. That surprise and delight is what helps unschooling (and relationships, I believe) thrive.
Karen James