| Loss of Innocence "I don't respect my mother," Jessica (not her real name) said as she sat in my living room. I nodded mutely, unsuccessfully attempting to collect my thoughts enough to have an intelligent response. On one hand, I felt I had to say something in defense of her mother, a woman I considered a friend for several years. There was no denying the root of Jessica's current problem with her mother either. To say that Jessica is unique is probably an understatement. She is a young woman with no desire to fit in any category - something that was apparent even when she was much younger. Although she has the typically immature over-emotional reactions to situations that many girls her age do, they are easily subdued by her own will. Jessica's emotional outbursts aren't altogether different from those seen in many adult women who plead either hormones, or stress when taken to task for them. The end result is a child with an undercurrent of adulthood - or vice versa - the combination is both frightening and heart wrenching. Jessica broke the silence, "At least my dad pays attention to what I say… what I need." "Your mother makes sure you have what you need," I clung to the part I could be truthful about, not wishing to stretch the truth with a girl I knew could see through white lies from adults. My friend, Samantha (not her real name), had asked me to chat with her daughter, undoubtedly hoping I would help straighten out some of the wrinkles caused by the most recent argument in their home. Standing in the doorway of my living room, my mind was racing to find anything to salvage the situation, or at least avoid making it worse. Samantha and I had grown apart over the past year, only talking occasionally on the phone, and rarely for more than a few minutes. Thinking back, I realized the only times I heard from her were ones when she needed something - precisely what had gotten |
me into the uncomfortable position of confidant for her daughter at that moment.
"She gets what we need, but she's changed since…" Jessica broke off. I nodded, as I knew well enough what didn't need saying. Samantha had quit coming to my house a little over a year before. We used to sit and talk in my kitchen, or on my front porch all the time. Things changed on the relationship front for her, and most of the people she used to talk with all the time rarely heard from or saw her anymore. Jessica was just pointing out the obvious that although her mother was happy with a boyfriend, there was a great deal missing outside of that relationship - it was taking its toll on the family in general. It was the inverse of what I was accustomed to seeing, since the time when I wrote articles about stepfamilies. Most of the couples I saw had trouble because they focused more on the kids, and neglected the love relationship of the couple. I was staring at Jessica, realizing that this girl was thinking that her mother cared more about a boyfriend than her. Since I couldn't convince myself that was absolutely wrong, I couldn't try to reassure her. Jessica sighed, "At least she's happy." "You need to be happy, too," I cringed inwardly at the patent psychoanalyzing overtone to the statement, and at the repercussions in my own thoughts. There was no point to counting how many times I had told people that they needed to be happy themselves before they could hope to help make anyone else feel the same. I knew I said it to Samantha, and wondered if I may have contributed to her selfish behavior now - focusing on her boyfriend alone instead of family and friends as well. Regardless, it was apparent that Jessica hadn't been communicating with her mother for some time, and although the reasons for that were unclear, it was obvious that her perception of her mother was changing, and not for the good. Elizabeth Ross |