This psychiatrist made five recommendations, single spaced- a page long. I'm happy to post all of it, but these sentences stand out:
1) The child should be removed from the home. I do not think this child will develop normally in this environment.
2) Many of her conflicts are internal (depression, phobias) and I think intensive therapy two or three times a week with this child for a period of six months to two years could mean the difference between a totally dysfunctional borderline adult and a productive member of society.
______
Thirty-one years later, all I can say is thank you dear psychiatrist. Thank you for using your words and getting me out.
At forty I understand a few things that didn't make sense at nine. The deep down dirty secret is this: I told. My bio-father was transitioning from guru to cult leader, right before my eyes. He wasn't alone, he was pushed even, by a wife with a Ph.D in communications and a business in stress reduction workshops. My step-mother's arsenal included the Meyer's-Briggs and a teenage daughter who was as backfische as can be. My father's arsenal is best described by the psychiatrist who interviewed him thirty years ago, "a bearded white male who was quite tall and muscular." In other words: hot young Jesus material. A carpenter to boot.
A year after your death, all I can say is thank you dear dad. Thank you for finally moving on.
Showing posts with label bio-father. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bio-father. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
February 12, 1982: interview with the parents
Mr. Barr is a 34 year old white male. He stated in his social history that he has been married three times and divorced twice. The patient is his only child. Allegedly, first wife was five years older than he. His second wife was nine years younger than he. His present wife, Norma, is 10 years older than he. Mr. Barr is the second child of three boys, his father was a general practitioner in Florence, Texas. It is stated that he had a poor relationship with his father. The social history also states that Mr. Barr demanded lots of love and affection from his father and never seemed to get enough. As an adult it is alleged that he was trying to hurt his father by telling him things like:
1.) I am heavy into drugs;
2.) My wife and I were taking LSD to see if we can produce a normal child; and
3.) When Lee Stephanie (sic) was in the grandparent's care, Mr. Barr would take her away when he would notice that they were enjoying her company.
Mr. Barr's mother died when he was 14 years old. His father died four years ago of a heart condition (quoting Mr. Barr). Allegedly, Mr. Barr emotionally abused his first wife, Juliet Habsburg-Bourbon (sic) in the same manner that he allegedly abuses the child (interrogation, accusations, yanking, pinching, poking, and hitting). Mr. Barr was in the Air Force for four years and was stationed at Lackland in San Antonio. He has three years of college and took courses in pre-med psychology. Presently he works as a carpenter and helps his wife teach communication skills seminars. Allegedly he and Norma attend the Unity Church of Positive Prayer.
The patient's step-mother, Norma Barr, is a white female approximately 44 years old. She has been divorced once. She has two children. Her oldest son Chad is 20 years old and her daughter Shea is 18 years old. Her ex-husband is the dean of ________ in Clarendon, Texas. She has been married to Mr. Barr since 1979. She has a Ph.D. in communications skills and teaches seminars in stress reduction. Little is known at this time about her early psycho-social development or anything other than the facts already stated.
The parents were slightly anxious people as they came to my office. Mr. Barr is a bearded white male who was quite tall and muscular. Mr. Barr was directed by his wife throughout the interview into what general areas she should talk about. As an example, his wife told him to start the interview by relating to me the early childhood of Lee (sic). He did this in a very detailed manner.
He stated that he and his wife had married when he was living in the northwest and attending the University of Oregon. They had the child after two and a half years of marriage. He stated that the child was " always strong willed" and if wasn't until she was 18 months old that he realized that she cried and tantrummed when she didn't get what she wanted. He stated that the only way to stop her tantrumming behavior was to put her crib and shut her door and let her cry herself to sleep, or to give her what she needed. He preferred the former method. He stated that he and his wife had great difficulty in their relationship and had several separations before they were divorced. They came back to Austin and finally divorced here. The child was given to the mother and remained with her until age 4. The father states that the mother had multiple boyfriends and that the child slept in the same bed while the mother had sexual intercourse with these several boyfriends. He then described the child's natural mother as being "crazy"and described her fascination with witchcraft. He stated that she tried to drill a hole in the front of her head at one time and that she also put a very large bell on her right ear and ripped her earlobe. He stated that he thought she was doing "drugs and that these were causing her to become crazy." I asked him about the family history of the mother and he statd that her mother was living in San Antonio with 8 dogs and in his opinion she was also crazy. He stated that his first wife's father was an internist in New York who many times would abuse his first wife. He stated that even when she was an adult he would spank her across his knee when she was nude. He did not elaborate on this. He stated that at the age of 4 years the patient was taken to his parents' house in Vernon, Texas by her mother and left. He said that the mother told his parents that if the did not take the child, she would start ringing doorbells until someone would. He then stated that he did not even know this had happened for 2 1/2 months. He was not able to give an explanation about why he had not kept up with the whereabouts of his daughter during that time. He stated that after his father died he had remarried, his present wife, and he sued of custody of the child. The case was settled out of court with the stepgrandmother giving custody over. He stated that ever since the child had been in their home she had been a problem. She is described by him as being extremely manipulative, always wearing a happy face but being very angry. He did not describe his own feelings about the child but did give an objective description of the child's behavior. He tended to lump the child's behavior into bad and good character and did not give my any insight into why she is the way she is. Rather, he stated that there was something wrong with the child and that it was he who was the abused person and not the child. He denied abusing the child except for one spanking incident which the child had reported to the school.
Norma Barr was a meticulously dressed, silver haired lady. She gave a very detailed account of her feelings on family life and also her feelings that rules are made to be followed. She stated they did not allow the child to watch soap operas or the t.v. show "Dallas". However much to her dismay the child would not follow the 17 rules that had been written down to the house and this had been a constant source of disagreement. At no time did she express any dismay over the fact that the child had been beaten by her father. Mrs. Barr became quite anxious at every point in the interview at which I mentioned family therapy or trying to "fix this situation". It was again an objective descriptive type of interview with this lady. She described all of the behaviors of the child in a matter of fact way. She stated that they had "done everything in their power that they know how to do."
When I mentioned the possibility of placement the parents were very supportive and stated they wold do whatever it took. They were also receptive to permanent placement of this child.
1.) I am heavy into drugs;
2.) My wife and I were taking LSD to see if we can produce a normal child; and
3.) When Lee Stephanie (sic) was in the grandparent's care, Mr. Barr would take her away when he would notice that they were enjoying her company.
Mr. Barr's mother died when he was 14 years old. His father died four years ago of a heart condition (quoting Mr. Barr). Allegedly, Mr. Barr emotionally abused his first wife, Juliet Habsburg-Bourbon (sic) in the same manner that he allegedly abuses the child (interrogation, accusations, yanking, pinching, poking, and hitting). Mr. Barr was in the Air Force for four years and was stationed at Lackland in San Antonio. He has three years of college and took courses in pre-med psychology. Presently he works as a carpenter and helps his wife teach communication skills seminars. Allegedly he and Norma attend the Unity Church of Positive Prayer.
The patient's step-mother, Norma Barr, is a white female approximately 44 years old. She has been divorced once. She has two children. Her oldest son Chad is 20 years old and her daughter Shea is 18 years old. Her ex-husband is the dean of ________ in Clarendon, Texas. She has been married to Mr. Barr since 1979. She has a Ph.D. in communications skills and teaches seminars in stress reduction. Little is known at this time about her early psycho-social development or anything other than the facts already stated.
The parents were slightly anxious people as they came to my office. Mr. Barr is a bearded white male who was quite tall and muscular. Mr. Barr was directed by his wife throughout the interview into what general areas she should talk about. As an example, his wife told him to start the interview by relating to me the early childhood of Lee (sic). He did this in a very detailed manner.
He stated that he and his wife had married when he was living in the northwest and attending the University of Oregon. They had the child after two and a half years of marriage. He stated that the child was " always strong willed" and if wasn't until she was 18 months old that he realized that she cried and tantrummed when she didn't get what she wanted. He stated that the only way to stop her tantrumming behavior was to put her crib and shut her door and let her cry herself to sleep, or to give her what she needed. He preferred the former method. He stated that he and his wife had great difficulty in their relationship and had several separations before they were divorced. They came back to Austin and finally divorced here. The child was given to the mother and remained with her until age 4. The father states that the mother had multiple boyfriends and that the child slept in the same bed while the mother had sexual intercourse with these several boyfriends. He then described the child's natural mother as being "crazy"and described her fascination with witchcraft. He stated that she tried to drill a hole in the front of her head at one time and that she also put a very large bell on her right ear and ripped her earlobe. He stated that he thought she was doing "drugs and that these were causing her to become crazy." I asked him about the family history of the mother and he statd that her mother was living in San Antonio with 8 dogs and in his opinion she was also crazy. He stated that his first wife's father was an internist in New York who many times would abuse his first wife. He stated that even when she was an adult he would spank her across his knee when she was nude. He did not elaborate on this. He stated that at the age of 4 years the patient was taken to his parents' house in Vernon, Texas by her mother and left. He said that the mother told his parents that if the did not take the child, she would start ringing doorbells until someone would. He then stated that he did not even know this had happened for 2 1/2 months. He was not able to give an explanation about why he had not kept up with the whereabouts of his daughter during that time. He stated that after his father died he had remarried, his present wife, and he sued of custody of the child. The case was settled out of court with the stepgrandmother giving custody over. He stated that ever since the child had been in their home she had been a problem. She is described by him as being extremely manipulative, always wearing a happy face but being very angry. He did not describe his own feelings about the child but did give an objective description of the child's behavior. He tended to lump the child's behavior into bad and good character and did not give my any insight into why she is the way she is. Rather, he stated that there was something wrong with the child and that it was he who was the abused person and not the child. He denied abusing the child except for one spanking incident which the child had reported to the school.
Norma Barr was a meticulously dressed, silver haired lady. She gave a very detailed account of her feelings on family life and also her feelings that rules are made to be followed. She stated they did not allow the child to watch soap operas or the t.v. show "Dallas". However much to her dismay the child would not follow the 17
When I mentioned the possibility of placement the parents were very supportive and stated they wold do whatever it took. They were also receptive to permanent placement of this child.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Impressions of Juliet
I met her in Austin, Texas at a table outside of Whole Foods at Sixth and Lamar. The usual cacophony of grackles and doves was partially drowned out by whole foods radio. I was inside the store, heading out, as I spotted her. She was standing next to a table, in the sun, her hair was wavy, grey-white, all one length, parted down the middle and hanging half-way down her back, which was turned to me.
I approached and realized she was especially short, from the added height of my three inch clogs. She wore an off- white cotton dress, high-waisted and sleeveless with a textured button-down front. A simple prairie kind of dress. Black knee-high socks and sandals with a one inch wedge completed the look. After fourteen years apart, I hugged my petite sixty-eight year old mother, who oddly, did not reek of patchouli.
We made small talk; me, Juliet and Roger, her husband of thirty-two years. Small talk included Roger’s opinion on communism, and how my perspective on the subject had shifted given my marriage to an East German who was a teenager in November 1989. Roger was sent away and four hours of conversation unfolded, during which we covered Juliet's life history from age seven through the beginning of her fifth marriage.
Tepoztlán was not a place I expected to have in common with Juilet. She spent two months living there around 1979 with Gerard (or Gerhard, she’s not sure which), a German professor whose invitation she accepted to move to Mexico and start a new life. This was a romantic period between her fourth and fifth husbands, cut short by an emaciating case of dysentery.
From Tepoztlán, she was dropped off at her trusty white Cheve-something, at the dusty border in Laredo, and it, the car she named Augusta, was untouched, and not only that - it started. She made her way back to Austin, pausing in the telling of her story to ask:
“Did you know that cops won’t let you sleep in your own car?”
I nodded and asked, “Was that a Cheve-Impala?”
“Don’t remember, but that’s how I ended up in the tree,” she explained. “A tree not far from here.” She gestured to her left down North Lamar to a place that no longer exists, “off Eleventh and Baylor.”
She had some friends who lived in a house next to a lot filled with brush and trees. In the middle of that lot was a tree and she would climb a long ways up. Eventually a friend built a platform, way up in the tree, big enough to sleep fetal.
“I would tie myself to the tree,” she said, “so I wouldn’t fall out.” When she got tired of that, she slept curled at it’s base. “But down there you had to deal with mosquittos.”
For me, decades later, Tepoztlán was an optional day trip from a graduate school course I was taking in Cuernavaca, about poverty and oppression in Mexico. I understood that my mother was a case study in poverty and oppression, but she was too close, too real, too needy, too crazy and visiting her once a year, for six years, during my bachelor's degree was a swift kick in my own ass about staying focused on school.
I told Juliet I enjoyed spending time with her in trees. She smiled in appreciation.
I told her that my earliest memories were of beatings; her black-haired self, thrown against the white kitchen walls. She nodded, not surprised.
I told her I thought of her as a person with a broken picker. I don’t know if she understood, or if that hurt her even. But I said it. I mean, five marriages, even if one of them was to help out a friend?
She swore my dad, her second husband, didn’t start hitting until after they were married. She also swore that she was never a whore.
She mentioned that I was quite a handful as a little girl. That I never wanted to go to bed. I mentioned the roaches, endemic in parts of Austin, and the rats. She said she made friends with those cute little rats.
She mentioned that she didn’t find her voice until she was in her forties. I replied that I was born with a voice, and I’ve used it incessantly since. A few notable gaps, but still, mostly.
When I was eighteen (ish) Juliet told me that I should always masturbate before going on dates. This time I’m thirty-eight and her closing advice is to use a water-pic. She has all of her front teeth, its molars that are missing, a gaping darkness in her mouth. I explained that I brush and floss daily, love having my teeth cleaned and that all the cavities from my childhood have been filled. “But still” she said, “you must use a water-pic.”
I approached and realized she was especially short, from the added height of my three inch clogs. She wore an off- white cotton dress, high-waisted and sleeveless with a textured button-down front. A simple prairie kind of dress. Black knee-high socks and sandals with a one inch wedge completed the look. After fourteen years apart, I hugged my petite sixty-eight year old mother, who oddly, did not reek of patchouli.
We made small talk; me, Juliet and Roger, her husband of thirty-two years. Small talk included Roger’s opinion on communism, and how my perspective on the subject had shifted given my marriage to an East German who was a teenager in November 1989. Roger was sent away and four hours of conversation unfolded, during which we covered Juliet's life history from age seven through the beginning of her fifth marriage.
Tepoztlán was not a place I expected to have in common with Juilet. She spent two months living there around 1979 with Gerard (or Gerhard, she’s not sure which), a German professor whose invitation she accepted to move to Mexico and start a new life. This was a romantic period between her fourth and fifth husbands, cut short by an emaciating case of dysentery.
From Tepoztlán, she was dropped off at her trusty white Cheve-something, at the dusty border in Laredo, and it, the car she named Augusta, was untouched, and not only that - it started. She made her way back to Austin, pausing in the telling of her story to ask:
“Did you know that cops won’t let you sleep in your own car?”
I nodded and asked, “Was that a Cheve-Impala?”
“Don’t remember, but that’s how I ended up in the tree,” she explained. “A tree not far from here.” She gestured to her left down North Lamar to a place that no longer exists, “off Eleventh and Baylor.”
She had some friends who lived in a house next to a lot filled with brush and trees. In the middle of that lot was a tree and she would climb a long ways up. Eventually a friend built a platform, way up in the tree, big enough to sleep fetal.
“I would tie myself to the tree,” she said, “so I wouldn’t fall out.” When she got tired of that, she slept curled at it’s base. “But down there you had to deal with mosquittos.”
For me, decades later, Tepoztlán was an optional day trip from a graduate school course I was taking in Cuernavaca, about poverty and oppression in Mexico. I understood that my mother was a case study in poverty and oppression, but she was too close, too real, too needy, too crazy and visiting her once a year, for six years, during my bachelor's degree was a swift kick in my own ass about staying focused on school.
I told Juliet I enjoyed spending time with her in trees. She smiled in appreciation.
I told her that my earliest memories were of beatings; her black-haired self, thrown against the white kitchen walls. She nodded, not surprised.
I told her I thought of her as a person with a broken picker. I don’t know if she understood, or if that hurt her even. But I said it. I mean, five marriages, even if one of them was to help out a friend?
She swore my dad, her second husband, didn’t start hitting until after they were married. She also swore that she was never a whore.
She mentioned that I was quite a handful as a little girl. That I never wanted to go to bed. I mentioned the roaches, endemic in parts of Austin, and the rats. She said she made friends with those cute little rats.
She mentioned that she didn’t find her voice until she was in her forties. I replied that I was born with a voice, and I’ve used it incessantly since. A few notable gaps, but still, mostly.
When I was eighteen (ish) Juliet told me that I should always masturbate before going on dates. This time I’m thirty-eight and her closing advice is to use a water-pic. She has all of her front teeth, its molars that are missing, a gaping darkness in her mouth. I explained that I brush and floss daily, love having my teeth cleaned and that all the cavities from my childhood have been filled. “But still” she said, “you must use a water-pic.”
Sunday, November 7, 2010
shrine reading
His pale blue feet, a color just this side of frostbite, are
bare. In both hands, drawn close to his chest, he holds an offering of
corn. He’s fallen and lost his face more than once, it’s been imperfectly
glued back on, much of his frontal lobe missing. The cardinal that once
perched on his shoulder, long gone.
I bought him for Uma and Balloo, my first pair of babies. His watchpost
on the sill faced out of the south picture window, out onto their favorite
barking spot. But that was then, at the old house. This is now, with my
second pair of babies, the human pair, in the new house. Saint Francis
has wandered, now standing in the middle of my bathroom shrine, my life in
two parts, divided by his feet. What am I to him?
Small. An inch tall to his twelve. I’m a glass screw top bottle, filled
with transparent almond oil, my lid a third of the spread of my base. The
words Dulcinea and LEIGH scripted in gold across my face. Dulcinea, the
deceptively real but imagined love of Hidalgo Don Quixote.
Saint Francis of the Missing Frontal Lobe, has morphed into my father and
towers in my family shrine. Imagine, born beneath that angry star.
Standing beneath his angry feet. My mother, the daughter of nuns, the wife
of an aspiring prophet, and the bearer of his evil progeny, me.
___
for Lighthouse Flash Forms Workshop
bare. In both hands, drawn close to his chest, he holds an offering of
corn. He’s fallen and lost his face more than once, it’s been imperfectly
glued back on, much of his frontal lobe missing. The cardinal that once
perched on his shoulder, long gone.
I bought him for Uma and Balloo, my first pair of babies. His watchpost
on the sill faced out of the south picture window, out onto their favorite
barking spot. But that was then, at the old house. This is now, with my
second pair of babies, the human pair, in the new house. Saint Francis
has wandered, now standing in the middle of my bathroom shrine, my life in
two parts, divided by his feet. What am I to him?
Small. An inch tall to his twelve. I’m a glass screw top bottle, filled
with transparent almond oil, my lid a third of the spread of my base. The
words Dulcinea and LEIGH scripted in gold across my face. Dulcinea, the
deceptively real but imagined love of Hidalgo Don Quixote.
Saint Francis of the Missing Frontal Lobe, has morphed into my father and
towers in my family shrine. Imagine, born beneath that angry star.
Standing beneath his angry feet. My mother, the daughter of nuns, the wife
of an aspiring prophet, and the bearer of his evil progeny, me.
___
for Lighthouse Flash Forms Workshop
Thursday, November 19, 2009
inflammatory?
blogging intimidates me. I write on a daily basis, and yet I want to censor things before I post them. which begs the question: What is blogging exactly? An online journal? Sure. But with some boundaries? Because in my journal, it all hangs out. And that, honestly, seems a bit much.
Bottom line, perfection is the enemy, perfection is the enemy- certainly at this stage. So, a friend of mine challenged me to a half hour per day, for seven days fix. (seven working days...) Meaning set the timer, write. The timer dings, stop writing, then post. that scares the shit out of me. which means I should probably do it. Until then, here is a quote we edited out of Flux: Life After Foster Care, the imperfect yet groovy new book, just published by FCAA. This would have been in the bio family chapter. It's one of a few juicy bits (written by and about me) that were a little inflammatory for the final version.
***
I ended up in foster care, in part, because my father is a small-time Christian cult leader. Sounds crazy to say, but it's true. Cult leader types don't make the best dads, they're far too busy preaching, healing and having sex (aka: tending to the flock). At some point my dad decided that I was evil, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite beat it out of me (the evil). Foster care happened. Nine years and more than 20 placements weren't great, but it could've been worse. I called him every few years, to see if his phone number had changed. To listen to his voice. When I turned 18, he still thought I was evil, harming everything I touched; nine years and nothing much had changed.
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