Client Stories. Torn Toy

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

At the reception, a married couple. Divorce is inevitable and my help is no longer required to glue the pieces of broken happiness together.

The difficulty lies elsewhere - in the division of property and in deciding with whom the child will remain.

They are in opposition, look at each other as enemies, blaming anyone for what happened, but not themselves.

We are discussing the possible options for the section. And it turns out to be easier to agree about property than about a child, although greed and a desire to punish another for broken happiness overshadows reason and prevents clarity.

I focus them on the damage caused to each other and invite them to realize for what exactly and what exactly they are demanding mutual compensation.

Pause. I like the idea in my words. They take in air, and then, as if someone invisible opens the airlock, a long-held stream of mutual claims, rooted in the past, bursts out: "Do you remember there and then you didn't …"

Further, various variations on the theme "did not wait, did not recognize, did not do, did not help, and so on."

But we are sorting out this, too, leaving this topic with a certain degree of satisfaction. They are satisfied that the property was sawn more or less fairly, I am satisfied that despite the noise and "bombing", I managed to establish at least some kind of connection between them. The bombing, of course, interferes, but nothing, if anything - I duplicate it twice, while translating "from Chinese to Chinese." And they say I'm an excellent translator.

The issue with the property is resolved and the three of us exhale with relief and proceed to the most terrible and difficult thing - with whom will the child remain? It seems to me that we will never figure it out. The law is on the mother's side, opportunities are on the father's side.

They pull this virtual child from side to side for a long time, tearing off his arms, legs, unpitting his tummy.

And while I am sitting in a neutral position, I am still quite retaining, I just observe this barbarism and wait. Neither he nor she thinks about the child, they think about how to punish each other stronger now and inflict as much pain as possible in response to previously experienced pain. The child as an object, as an instrument of manipulation.

I wait, thinking about what kind of film I would stage about them and how I would call it. And so I retreat into my thoughts that I involuntarily shudder from the man's sharp falsetto: "You are not listening to us!"

And I'm coming back. I'm here. I listen, feel and translate again.

I resonate with bitterness and pain. And at one point I ask myself: "What happens to the child in all this bedlam?"

And as soon as I get used to the role of their child, I am covered with a huge unbearable pain.

Pain occurs everywhere - in the head, arms, legs, abdomen. I'm 4, but I don't want to play, run, have fun, I just want them to shut up, shut up. I, at the same time, want this and very scared to want it, and suddenly they will be silent forever.

I am a therapist again. I interrupt their squabble and pay attention to the possible feelings of their little child, give them a large toy and ask them to first find a place for it, and then try to do with it everything that they are actually doing with their child now.

They somehow immediately wilted and look confused. They look for a place for a child's toy for a long time, find it between them and calm down.

I propose to start pulling each toy in their own direction, shoving, pushing, swearing at the same time.

They start uncertainly, then go into a rage. The toy is bursting at the seams, dumping its synthetic interior on the floor.

They are embarrassed. But not at all because of the torn toy, they are embarrassed by the fact that they suddenly felt vile, selfish, not thinking about the baby's feelings at all.

Then the woman cries almost silently, quietly shuddering her shoulders, and the man turns to stone.

I am bitter, I am hellishly bitter and bad.

I am transference. It’s my parents tearing me up, my guts are falling out of me, I want to go deaf, just not to hear these screams and insults.

I gather my spirit and say that if they are interested, I can talk about my childhood experience, about my feelings from the inside.

They are interested. Maybe just as much as you want to escape the shame of finding yourself like that.

I am telling. They are surprised. It did not occur to them that young children experience this - they fall into guilt, despair, powerlessness, but again and again they hope that they are scared, they are very scared, because if their world called "mom and dad" collapses, then their will cover the little body with debris.

The spouses listen and are silent. They are silent for a long time and it seems to me that the pause is already unbearable, but I wait. It is their right to be silent.

And then suddenly they start talking, it turns out that each of them survived the divorce of their own parents at the age of 5 to 9 years. Everyone still remembers how it was. Thoughts, feelings, needs, "no-need" and so on.

Together we collect padding polyester giblets from the toy goodbye, they take the toy with them. They will sew it up and bring it. They nod to me goodbye and leave. With tears of gratitude that I reflected them in full growth, but at the same time I did not feel ashamed and did not devalue them. It is important for them. It is important to have the right to make mistakes and be able to correct them.

A torn toy is better than a torn life.

Natalia Ivanova-fast