Talking About Talking
Adelaide and I have twice gone to an appointment with a counselor, after the relatively recent story of her wanting to talk with someone. I had no idea where to go, so called our pediatrician for a recommendation then went to that place.
It’s a “counseling agency providing therapy from a Christian perspective” which freaks me out for mostly known reasons. Basically, some of that stuff is scarier than the unknown. And leads to questions with answers of “God’s plan” which is not really how I want Adelaide to think of her mom’s death. Just because I don’t have a better answer doesn’t mean I have to accept that one. Generally speaking, I’d just like to be in control of how and where the kids are exposed to religion.
Although it makes sense, I’m also not in the room when Adelaide and the counselor talk (unless Adelaide wants me to be, which she did the first visit) and am not privy to what they discuss. Throw that lack of control and knowledge with my paranoia and worry on the religious side of the therapy, Adelaide’s therapy is generally not therapeutic for me thus far. Perhaps, to quote Flavor Flav, I “got problems of my own.”
After the two visits, Adelaide likes it a lot. I’m not at all convinced, though, that she doesn’t enjoy it simply for some individual attention with an adult female. Can I quote Flavor Flav again here? Anyway, we’re headed out of town so the next two visits are cancelled, giving me a chance to figure out both how much Adelaide is getting out of it and where I stand on the thing.
While in their safely lit slightly comfortable waiting room, I also have the fun of completing page after page after page of forms. After too many to count instance of names, dates, numbers, emergency contact numbers, important people in your life, what are those names again, any major medical issues, when did you last wet the bed, sorry, the names once again, the last two questions were: “Describe an important family value” and “How would you describe the child as a person?”
Now “describe an important family value” is an open-ended nightmare, but being asked to describe the child you brought to therapy while also being nervous about what’s being said in both directions, and the lack of knowledge I’d have about that, is even worse. I think she’s great and happy. So either the therapist agrees and we all wonder why we’re here, or she doesn’t and my lack of insight to the kid shines back on me. Stupid blanks.
In the end, I answered as follows. Our important family value is “Be nice, courteous, and laugh.” I should have added something about grammatical parallelism evidently. And described Adelaide as “smart, funny, creative, polite, and generous.” I’m happy with both of those answers, so therapy accomplished that, at least.
Sidenote, true story, not only do I have problems of my own, I also have a rip in my couch.
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