Friday 4th June 2010
Gestation: 36 weeks
One year ago.
Suse and I sit opposite each other, in this, the counsellor’s room.
“And what do you want to do when that happens?” she asks.
“I want to punish him,” Suse replies.
“And what about you, Mark?”
“I want to punish her.”
“No!” June says, knocking the edge of the chair loudly with the butt of her hand. “No! You’ve got to stop! You’ve got to stop that!” We’re both looking at her now. “He’s not the enemy!” she says to Suse. “She’s not the enemy!” she says to me.
“When you’re hurting, and your wounded child takes over, Little Suse wants to yell, and Little Mark wants to run and hide. You’re punishing the one person who gets what you’re going through! Through all of this, through this entire painful experience, you – and only you two – really know what you’re going though. No one else can really get that but you two. So when arguments start, when it becomes about something petty and separate from what it should be, it erodes at your foundations of love. You’ve got to be there for each other. You’re on the same team here, guys. The adults have to come back out and play.”
She leans forward, and says pointedly, “You’ve got to play together. To get through this, you’ve got to play together. When the shit hits the fan, the adults have to re-enter the room.”
She’s right. It hurts to admit, but she’s right. Being wrong feels shit. But she’s right.
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