I saw my daughter (let’s call her Dorothy as I do in my book) last Wednesday in Alice, her therapist’s, office for a half hour. She taught me how to play some silly game and I acted interested. Alice played too and Dorothy directed more conversation to her than to me. I got to give her a little hug and a little back massage while we were playing. I was just dying to hold her and tell her how much I loved her but I didn’t. I just went along with the program, which was to play the game and act animated. She was adorable, very competitive, won the game as usual. She wins every game. I haven’t won a game against her in years–she even wins at Scrabble which is amazing since words are my business. Have I told you how brilliant she is.
When Dorothy left the room I broke down and started weeping. I felt absolutely terrible. What kind of relationship is it to see your daughter for a half hour–and the next time will be two weeks from now. I’m in total despair about it but I’m also totally helpless.
Alice told me to hang in there and try to re establish a relationship with her slowly. I told her I didn’t think I could ever have regular visits with her as long as her stepmother had such an iron grip on her and Alice agreed. She didn’t know the answer either.
Dorothy is coping at school but barely. She’s been doing some acting out lately. It’s very hard for her to restrain herself. She spins out of control really easily and I know I can’t contain her, so here I am on the sidelines of her life, where I’ll undoubtedly remain until she gets older or more normal or a miracle happens and her father and stepmother decide to support me in parenting her. Till then, I’ll be playing Scrabble with her for a half hour every two weeks. I feel like she died and comes back to life for a half hour occasionally where I get to see her from a distance. It sucks. Big time.