I always get when she starts trouble. It was a very noticeable, physical feeling that drew my attention away from the status posts on my screen to ponder it for a moment. How to define it? Dread, fear, almost like panic. That Sophie's mum could so publicly humiliate and harrass her on Facebook isn't surprising in retrospect; with it being the first time I've seen her post on one of Sophie's statuses, the first time she's really made an effort to contact her since March, I was shocked at her reaction to something quite innocent.
I can see what's happened. Sophie posted something entirely unrelated like "What a retard" in her status, and her mother's mistaken it for a post on her wall. She went off at Sophie, how dare you this, who do you think you are that, and Sophie was genuinely upset. Then, something strange and wonderful happened: Sophie's friends and family all posted messages of support, love and amazement on her wall and in her status, a very public display of the appreciation everyone has for this wonderful girl. Sophie was amused that each response to that status will have popped up as a notification in her mother's feed and she'll have probably sat there fuming that all these people - former friends, lovers, even her son - who supported Sophie and not her.
I didn't take part in the public display, simply because I find it all a bit 'ITV1'. I just waited until she got home from youth club and gave her a hug, listened to her for a few minutes while she related what happened - "I was actually shaking" and "I guess she's not really my mum any more, is she?" were particularly strong words - and reassured her that she'd done nothing to deserve all that's happened, and that I know it doesn't make up for mum not being there but there's still dozens of people who really, really care about her. I made her a hot drink and packed her off to bed with a view to talking it through during a catch-up meeting with her friend Jill on Thursday.
I'm really interested in the feelings: the physical manifestations of the fear both daughter and I displayed when her mother was being aggressive and manipulative. With Sophie, the shakes - a symptom of shock and fear. With me, a twisting, turning stomach, a sign of dread and agitation.
For me, that feeling is a conditioned response I've noticed time and again over the past fourteen years. As soon as she starts, it comes. I noticed it yesterday specifically because I've been doing some basic study into physical reactions to emotional responses and I'm intrigued to find out what drives such a strong feeling.
I had some good times with Sophie's mum, I won't deny that, but the overriding memory of our relationship is one of manipulation. This came in many forms, with anger, deceit and underhand corruption top of the pile. I was almost literally driven insane by this woman and her meanderings during the time we were together, and kept right on the edge for a few years after we split up. So tied-up in the whole thing was I that even now, more than twelve years after we separated, I'm still dealing with the emotional impact our relationship had on me. That her interaction with Sophie elicited such strong physical symptoms in me alludes to how much I was affected by her actions.
I've just read that paragraph back and it sounds like a bit of a sob story, and I was tempted to add how I was complicit, how I stayed when I should have gone, how it was partly my fault, but I'll try to resist because I'm coming to realise that I'm not responsible for her personality, her quirks and downfalls. She is her own person. I'm also admitting something I've known for a long time but always hoped would change - she's not like this because of some personality disorder or horrible childhood, because she was mistreated or misunderstood; she's like this because she's just a plain, old-fashioned nasty person.
So, I come to this post now realising that my strong reaction is outdated and too extreme for the current situation. While I find it frustrating that she deems it necessary to upset Sophie once in a while, she doesn't have the hold over me personally she once did. I guess because she has a hold over Sophie it still pains me, and I'm not sure if that'll ever go away. I hope for her sake it does, because I'd hate to think that she'll have to spend the next decade occasionally having her day completely ruined by someone she'd love to hold dear.
Yes, my reaction was driven by the effect her mother's actions were having on Sophie. But it's the same old reaction I've always had when the manipulation starts, and I'm undecided whether I'd like to get rid of it or not.
A revelation: it certainly has its uses - it serves as great big flag that important things are happening and I need to pay attention... Warning: be self-aware and look at the big picture, don't introvert and become defensive, something heavy is going down. I'm proud of the fact I didn't try to counsel Sophie when she came home, although I know having some time to think helped me decide how to handle it. All I did was listen, reassure and provide warm beverages which I think she appreciated and is a technique I should employ in the future. I'm aware I used to press her to talk about stuff when she'd probably rather not, and that's something I've learned to do less since she started growing up. I know that all I can do is be the best dad I can, to be there for her when she needs me and continue to provide the stability we've enjoyed for the past eighteen months.
And, remember to listen to the warning signs and react to them accordingly.
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