There is an extended family: husband and wife, two small children and another on the way, grandparents, aunts and uncles. The husband has had some difficulties with alcohol and gambling. He is highly-strung, a perfectionist; things around the home have to be ship-shape all of the time. He is irritated if the childrens’ toys are lying around, if dinner is not ready when he’s used to it being ready.
His wife works hard to ensure he is not upset. She cleans diligently but sometimes her husband still finds something wrong. The couple has experienced a deep sorrow with the loss of a stillborn child some years earlier. Being pregnant again fills the wife with joy and fear in equal parts.
One of the grandparents, the wife’s mother, is fearful too. Most weeks, she spends time with the couple and frequently minds her grandchildren. She has noticed her son-in-law’s behaviour and is uncertain and fearful. She is uncertain whether her son-in-law’s behaviour towards her daughter could be characterised as abuse, and she fears what might be happening behind closed doors.
She is caught between feeling something’s wrong and not knowing how to proceed. She feels intimidated by her son-in-law’s mood swings, and also by the shadow of the loss he and her daughter have suffered. She feels called on to intervene in some way – sometimes she has to cut short her visits because the protests are there in her mouth – but she dreads the potential repercussions. She fears if she says something to her son-in-law or daughter her access to her beloved grandchildren might be revoked. She also fears it would cause fresh suffering.
One day, nothing much happens except for one thing. The grandmother chooses to act. She looks at the fear and then picks up the phone anyway.
***
I get that people have a need to control what happens when the family’s had a loss. Or even when things are somewhat awry at work, it trickles into home life. It’s sad because people with these kinds of characteristics are so inflexible and can be touch and go.
It’s very sad and difficult. I think we all hope there’s a right answer to such a situation and that someone’s going to choose it. Only thing is, I don’t think there’s any right answer. There’s action and inaction, and both have consequences.
Seems like everyone in that situation was living with addictive behavior: the husband, who’s had alcohol and gambling problems (red flags shoot up at once), and the rest of the family who live in the aftermath of dads problems.
There is a right answer, and it was to react and take action. Let everybody start dealing with what is actually happening: tension, fear, compulsive behavior etc.
Damn, reminds me of being a probation officer again and supervising a domestic violence caseload.
Good point, everyone’s dealing with addictive behaviour. I agree with you that action is the only course. I want to show that taking action, stepping up and being a leader, can be as hard, inconvenient and frightening as it is necessary.
As I was reading the comments my first reaction was to agree with SG’s response to totsymae2011 and then I read Hansi’s comment and agreed with him. Part of the challenge is the way you describe the issues “some problems with alcohol and gambling. . . ” and “gets upset.” Is there a continuum of behaviour that has a bright line dividing acceptable and unacceptable?
Your comment is a perfect example of the desire for there to be a right and a wrong, for there to be certainty. But there’s no certainty; it’s an illusion, a fantasy. This is part of the risk the grandmother takes on, that it might not be as she fears. As the UK sociologist, Frank Furedi, says: no risk=no leadership.
Exactly. And (off the topic) I believe this explains things like fundamentalism–religion is one place where people who really need it can find certainty.
Good point.
I don’t know how it is in Australia, but here in Canada there is such a shortage of good foster homes that it’s hard to know whether the children will end up in a better situation. The caseworkers who must assess domestic problems and make decisions on behalf of the children are so completely overloaded and have so few resources at hand that it’s hard to imagine how they do manage to make a fair judgement. Sadly, I have seen real life examples where the “solutions” leave grandparents with very little access to their grandchildren–a great loss on both sides.
It’s pretty much the same here. It’s a difficult area and there are no “solutions”. In the case I’m imagining here I’d be hoping the grandmother starts a conversation with her daughter, and out of the opening up of the issue the husband gets help for what’s ailing him.
I also like to think about a friend of mine who I’ve interviewed for the book on leaders. She’s been working as a “house parent” for wards of the state (children too damaged to be fostered) for 18 years. For 8 years she and a colleague used to bundle up all the kids and take them on a holiday every summer. She wanted to give them the experience of camping and fun and holidays, which she said they would never have experienced. She described it as a “crazy, funny time” in her life and, years later, she said, she’s still pointed out as “the woman with all the kids.”
Yes. It’s good of you to focus on a success story rather than a failure. It’s more hopeful and more helpful. Your “house parent” friend is indeed a modern day hero. Actually, I have a friend like that, too.
I like to think these children will encounter people like your friend and my friend. It’s little in the whole scheme of things and yet maybe it will make a difference.