“I don’t understand what she’s doing with him. He doesn’t work, and he has zero motivation”!
Stephen had never spoken about his “baby sister”, Alicia, with such urgency. In past sessions, He’d proudly referenced their shared sardonic sense of humor, and bragged about her keen common sense. This differed from his relationship with his older brother, Bill, which he characterized as critical and competitive. Stephen and Bill were connected only by fandom of the same football team, and affinity for fatherhood.
Stephen’s distance from Bill made Alicia more of a focal point in his life, which shed some light on his exasperation with her new boyfriend, the “doofus.” At first, I assumed Stephen was jealous of the relationship, but as he continued, he revealed anxiety about Alicia’s judgement, and fear that the “doofus” would “ruin her life.”
Stephen had tried convincing Alicia her relationship was a “dead end,” but the more he did, the tighter she hung on. After weeks of failed attempts to prove he knew better for her than she did, Stephen shared his sadness about the distance between them. Phone calls dwindled, and regard for Alicia’s common sense disappeared. Stephen was now disconnected from both siblings, and Alicia had unknowingly colonized his therapy.
I’m not a therapist who kicks a down client, but I smelled a growth opportunity.
“Stephen, when did Alicia lose her ability to make sound decisions for herself? You’ve often spoken highly of her common sense, and now you’re trying to pull her out of a relationship that makes her happy.
Stephen bristled:
“I stopped bitching about him, and we don’t talk about him anymore.”
It was a tense moment, but I pressed.
“What do you talk about now”?
Stephen welled up as he confessed they barely spoke anymore. Trusting our alliance, I continued.
“So, you’ve stopped explicitly telling Alicia what to do, but now you’re getting your message across another way”
“What do you mean”? He asked.
“When you didn’t get the result you wanted after expressing disapproval, your anxiety intensified, and you decided withholding yourself from Alicia’s life would get your message across better. Even if you aren’t explicitly telling her what to do, not speaking to her sends the same message. ‘Do it my way, or else’.”
Stephen sat in those words for a few minutes, before acknowledging he was unaware of his role in creating distance.
“Now what”? He mumbled.
“Is it reasonable to trust Alicia”s capacity to decide what’s good for her while you focus more on yourself”?
Stephen acknowledged it would be hard, and even accused me of delivering a “low blow”, but admitted he would try anything to fix their relationship. While he remained open, I continued.
“You might also try working on your relationship with Bill. Given how little connection there is between the two of you, it makes sense you would focus so much on Alicia.”
Exasperated, Stephen responded:
“How do I do that”?
“That’ is for next time. You worked hard today, and I appreciate you trusting me.”
With that, Stephen dragged himself home.
As a lifelong caretaker of Alicia, Stephen had always been influential her life. Having been given so much responsibility for her in childhood made Alicia a natural anxious focus. If anything was to go wrong in Alicia’s life, Stephen harbored deep fear it would be his fault. His anxiety had led to him catastrophize Alicia’s future, and try desperately to control the situation. In adulthood, Alicia was no longer having any of it.
Being outside the emotional field of Stephen’s family afforded me an astronaut’s point of view; allowing me to point out not only that anxiety deteriorated his relationship with Alicia, but that distance from Bill mattered.
Some version of this happens in all of our lives at one time or another. We decide we know what’s better for family members, and when they don’t accept our enlightened advice, we get frustrated, and become distant. Anxiety dictates that if we can’t put the fire out, we can still run from the burning building. It is also possible that when we attempt to function for other family members, we tend to be avoiding work we need to do on ourselves.
Stephen is learning to discern the difference between family closeness and family togetherness. While closeness allows family members to think for themselves while remaining intimate even in disagreement, togetherness mandates “do it our way”, or else. Although the two conditions can exist simultaneously, “togetherness” tends to appear when anxiety intensifies. Now that Stephen knows he has options, he gets to choose his course because therapy never forces change, it merely opens us to its possibilities.
