Like most people who have had at least one visit with a therapist during their lives, I now figure that it's time for me to start playing amateur pop psychiatrist based on the kids' visit on Tuesday. I've decided to try to take the power out of Lindsey's statements that she hates me and that she wishes I'd moved out instead of Mom. Like I said before, it doesn't bother me when she makes those statements; in fact, I figure that if I'm her outlet, I should encourage her to unload on me whenever she's having trouble.
So since Tuesday, I've taken the initiative a couple of times to ask her if she still wishes I'd moved out instead of Mom or if she still hates me. I've been a little surprised when she's answered "No." She wouldn't take the bait. Maybe she's felt better since then, or maybe she's still afraid that she'll hurt my feelings. But today after church, we had a minor dust-up about how big her snack could be just before we headed over to the home of some friends for dinner this afternoon. She wanted a huge snack, but I limited her to just a bagel.
That prompted a major overreaction, which is to be expected from time to time. That's when she decided to unload. She said that she hates me, that she's mad at me, that she wants Mom, and that she wanted to smother my face with her pillow. But she was hugging me and holding tight to me while she said all of that. She got it out of her system, and now she's upstairs happily reading a book to her friend on the phone, so I think we got through it okay.
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