3: I annoy Miss Munn
Originally emailed on Oct. 3, 1997
Hello there.
I am in therapy, of course, but the only therapy I can afford is through student mental health, which means my therapist is a clinical psych grad student who is, I think, all of 23 years old. I see her twice a week. At the clinic, they make us call each other by last names, so I call her "Miss Munn" and she calls me "Ms. Reissinger." This is to create some formality and distance between therapists and clients who are otherwise usually pretty much of an age. Or, in this case, a client who is older and has more life experience than the therapist. I admit, I have some trouble taking advice from a woman whose entire life has been spent in school. What does she know about a life like mine? But she is helping me, I guess.
Miss Munn thinks my basic problem is that I am too invested in being a mother. "You see," she says, "it's like the difference between a bio-diverse agricultural system and a single-crop system. Say you get an infestation of corn-borers one year. In the bio-diverse system, the corn is gone, but you still have wheat, soy, barley, root vegetables, and so on. Nobody starves, though they may miss their corn muffins, ha ha. But in the one-crop system, if the corn is gone, you have nothing. Now, your only crop is motherhood, so if something comes along and makes that less than satisfying--the kids are acting up, say--"
"Or there's no money because my ex is a deadbeat," I add helpfully.
"Or there's no money because your ex is a deadbeat, yes. So the stresses of motherhood begin to outweigh the joys, and motherhood becomes less satisfying."
"And I start to feel like I'm not good at it because I live in a tiny house and my kids have to share a bedroom."
"Right," Miss Munn says. She is pontificating and does not want me to be helpful just now. "So motherhood is not satisfying just at that particular moment, but you've invested your whole identity in mothering--it's the only crop you sowed, see? Mothering becomes unsatisfying--as it must sometimes, that's just the way it works--"
"Or so you've read," I say.
"And so common sense tells us," she says. "And when mothering becomes unsatisfying"--she is dogged, I'll give her that--"because you have invested yourself in it so completely, you become dissatisfied with yourself. With your entire Self, because for you, the Self is synonymous with the Mother. What I want us to work on is valuing other aspects of your life and your personality so that when you have a little disappointment in mothering, it doesn't blow the whole eco-system and cause a serious depression like you experienced last winter."
"So not getting to have that baby last fall was 'a little disappointment in mothering'?" I ask.
"No, no, of course not, I meant more ordinary disappointments. But the abortion only reinforces my point, Ms. Reissinger, because if people starve in your eco-system when the corn-borers come, think of the famine when there's a major catastrophe like a flood or a hurricane."
"Or feeling compelled to have an abortion when what I want to have is a baby."
"My point exactly. I certainly didn't mean to trivialize that incident; I know how significant it was for you. But what I want us to do now is take some time to brainstorm other areas of your life and the satisfactions you derive from them. What else do you have in your life besides your children?"
"I have my house, my dog, school."
"Good, let's start there. What satisfies you about the house?"
"Well, I make a good home for the kids there, even though it's small. It's well kept, and my friends helped me paint their room with trees and animals and stuff."
"Is there anything else about the house?" she asks.
"When the boys get older I'm going to let one of them move into the attic so they can each have their own room. And it has a little finished rec-room area in the basement. That's one of the reasons I bought it. So they can play down there."
Miss Munn thinks for a moment. "OK, let's talk about the dog. What is satisfying about your relationship with, um, Hot Rod?"
"The boys really love her, and she's very gentle with them even though I haven't put enough effort into training her. All she knows is 'sit.' But she's a good dog, very attached to my sons."
"Ms. Reissinger--" She pinches her nose. "OK, school. What about school?"
"Honestly, Miss Munn, I'm only in school so I can make a decent living to support my boys. And that's certainly why I'm majoring in Packaging. I mean, who would major in Packaging except to make money from it? Nobody has a passion for Packaging. It's not like modern dance or poetry or medieval languages. It's a pragmatic choice, it's a 'how can I send my kids to college' kind of choice, that's all."
"Ms. Reissinger," she says, "I want you to tell me three things that are satisfying about your life without reference to your sons or to any other children you may someday have." She is firm and talking to me like I'm being very slow to get the point.
I think for a minute. "Well, my friend Miriam. She's older and has perspective because of it so when I have trouble with the--. OK. My friend Harriet. She helped me come out, even though I'm not that out after all, but more sort of in-and-out. And she and her lover Nona take the boys on weekends--"
"Ms. Reissinger! Not one word about the boys!" she snaps.
I sit there for a minute. "Geez, Miss Munn, I guess I am kind of a one-trick pony."
She says, "Ms. Reissinger, you have got to find something intrinsic to the parts of your life--school. your dog, your friendships, your future career, even your own mental health--that is for you, Ms. Reissinger. What about you, Ms. Reissinger? I want you to ask that. Think about school. Say 'What is in this for me?' Think about Hot Rod. Say, 'What is in this for me?' Think about your future career. Say, 'What is in this for me?' That's your motto from now on. Say it."
"What?" I say.
"Say, 'What's in it for me?'"
"What's in it for me?"
"Exactly. Can you do some journalling on the subject for me for Thursday?"
"What's in it for me?" I say.
"You tell me on Thursday. We're done for today. Good work today, Ms. Reissinger. Good work."
© Copyright 1997-2001 Su Penn. Design by David Dierauer.
