The More Important Mother-Daughter Talk
A couple of weeks ago I was talking with a patient about her concern about her 19-year-old daughter, Meg. Meg had come home for the summer after her first year away at college, and the two of them had had several long talks over the summer months. Many of those talks consisted of Meg, an only child, confessing her worries about not being well-liked, not fitting in with friends, and fearful that people she thought were friends would turn on her. This surprised my patient because Meg had done well in school, not only academically, but socially as well. As mom questioned Meg’s concerns, given the success of her freshman year, Meg burst into tears and recounted the story of being bullied in middle school by Penny, a close friend who had turned on her and accused her of being a freak, telling here no one really liked her.
As Meg sobbed, mom tried to reassure her, reminding her that she had many friends at school, a boyfriend who adored her, and plus, she and dad were really proud of her. Meg lashed back saying, “You’re supposed to say that. You’re my parents. You’re not being objective, and it’s not helpful hearing that right now. And how do I know you and dad would be so proud of me if I didn’t work so hard, hadn’t gotten into a great school, and managed to pull off straight A’s.” Mom tried to comfort her, but her attempts seemed to do little good.
As we processed my patient’s concerns together, I mentioned some statistics about the long-term effects that bullying in grade school and middle school had on children, the “mean girl” syndrome in particular. These painful memories are often difficult to shake, in part because they happen at such a vulnerable time developmentally. We then rehearsed some things she might say to her daughter the next time they had a chat to help her daughter move more into the present. In our following session two weeks later, my patient shared how she had handled the situation. She reported that she had planned to sit down and talk face-to-face, but there wasn’t the right moment, so she decided to send Meg a text the day after dropping her daughter back at college.
Here is the text she sent . . .
I was going to send this last night, but thought it better read after a good night's sleep. Maybe being able to read this over and over will help it sink in.
1. I am proud of you. It is ok for me to say it, and you need to hear it. This is a fact, and it is not conditional. There are no caveats, no expectations, and no strings. This is true no matter what you do, where you go to school, how well you do in school, or where you get a job. I am proud of you because you are you. You are (and have been since you could talk) a kind, smart, and funny person. You are finding the path that is your path, not mine, not dad's. That is what you are supposed to do.
2. Regarding Penny. She was a mean, middle school bully. Not in a beat-you-up physical way, but worse, in a psychological way. It was at a time when any person is susceptible. That has shaped your perception of yourself. When those feelings creep up, ask yourself if she is a good person. No. Is she qualified to judge anyone? No. Do other people see her for what she was/is? Yes. Do you respect those people/Are those people normal and well-adjusted? Yes. Then ask yourself why you are giving someone like that power over you and your self-worth as a person and a friend. This experience has colored how you perceive not only future friendships, but former ones. Elementary school kids aren't capable of friendship per se. That's an in-the-movies thing (and that’s science, not just my opinion). Children with siblings learn interpersonal interactions faster. Children with higher IQs and verbal skills often have trouble relating to age cohorts until later. This is normal. Some people will like you and some won't. Nothing is wrong with you. People want to be your friend. Most people don't find those people until college, or in my case beyond.
3. I am a generally thoughtful person and try not to speak without knowing what I'm saying. This is probably partially because I don't like being wrong, and partially because I don't like lying. Maybe I've been too honest about some things. Maybe I've avoided discussing things that make me uncomfortable more than I should. I'm sorry for that. But on this, I am not wrong, and I'm not lying, so re-read #1.
. . . It doesn’t get any better or clearer than that. So, after getting my patient’s permission, I thought I’d share this in my blog, in case anyone has a child who is struggling in similar ways.