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Women & TherapyPublication details, including instructions forauthors and subscription information:http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/wwat20

My Heart Is Broken by a Five-Year-Old Who “Abandons” MeGail Anderson aa Lutheran Social Service , rural Minnesota, USAPublished online: 14 Oct 2008.

To cite this article: Gail Anderson (1997) My Heart Is Broken by a Five-Year-Old Who“Abandons” Me, Women & Therapy, 20:1, 1-4, DOI: 10.1300/J015v20n01_01

To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1300/J015v20n01_01

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My Heart Is Broken by a Five-Year-Old Who "Abandons" Me

Gail Anderson

SUMMARY. This article tells the story of a five-year-old Native American Lakota girl teaching me that I needed to prioritize her agenda in therapy, rather than tny own. It was important that I taught her what I could about respecting her own heritage. But what she needed most of all was safety, consistency, nurture and hope as she survived the transition from her birth family to a foster family and to an unknown future. Because the situation called for a big emotional investment in Annie for a time, I felt bereft when my part in her life was over. (Article copies availablefor a fieJIont The Huworlh Document Delivery Service: 1-800-342-9678. E-mail addrem: gelit~o@hawor~h..conIj

Annie was her name. I'd first known of her when she was in her mother's womb. One of her favorite stories was about how well her moth- er Nell had cared' for her in the first three years of her life before Nell's psychosis had surfaced. I had personally witnessed that care because I saw Nell in therapy occasionally at that time and Annie was always with her.

Nell was 14 when I had first seen her; shc was 15 when Annie was born. Nell had asked that I sce her daughter whcn Annic was placed in

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Gail Anderson is a masters level psychotherapist who works for a non-profit agency, Lutheran Social Service, in rural Minnesotn. She specializes in working with children and their families.

Addrcss correspondence to: Gnil Anderson, LSS Behavioral Hcalth, 26 7th Avenue North, St. Cloud, MN 56303.

[Ilnwarthco-indexingentry note]: "My Heart Is Broken by a Five-Year-Old Who 'Abandons' Me." Anderson, Gail. Co-published siaulfoneously ill IYome~lB Therapy (The Howorlll Press, Inc.) Vol. 20, Na. I, 1997, pp. 1-4; and: More 111a11 f l Miuwr: HOW CII'CIIB h!/lttcttcc Therflpists' Lives (ed: Marcia Hill) Harriliglon Park Press, an imprillt of The Haworth Press. Inc.. 1997, pp. 1-4. Single or multiple copies of this article arc available for a fee from The Hswortli Document Delivery Scrvicc (1-800-342-9678, 9:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. (EST). E-mail address: gelinro@haworth.co~n].

Q 1997 by The Haworth Press, Inc. All rights reserved. 1

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2 More than a Mirror: How Cl ie~~rs Influence Therapisls' Lives

foster care. My job was to monitor Annie's progress and help her through the difficult and prolonged time when Nell, thc tribe and the county were trying to figure out what would happen to Annie and her sisters.

Most often in our therapy time together Annie was a typical fivc-year- old, busy and happy. She was in a good foster home, the one I'd often said I'd like to live in if I needed one. I-ler younger sister, Dove, and later, her baby sistcr, Missy, all lived in the same home.

But some days Annie was sad and really wanted to be rocked and held. We had glowing stars on the ceiling of the playroom and we'd turn off the lights, look at the glow stars and make wishes. "I wish my mom would get well." "I wish my dad and my mom would get back togcther." Those poignant wishes worked thcir way into my heart.

More often it appeared Annie needed to distance from her birth parents. I knew when Annie needed to distance because she got bossy. She would test me on boundaries I thought we had established much earlier. I tried to get her to look at what the feelings were behind the bossiness and I reasserted the boundaries. But it wasn't hard to understand that Annie needed a feeling of being in control. There were times when, as her advocate, I faced the complexity of Annic's world and mirrorcd Annie's feelings of desperately wanting some order in thc chaos.

Annie had other challenges. Although Annie was Lakota via both par- ents, Annie had lived all hcr five years in a primarily white culture in a small, rural town. While two reservations were within an hour's drive, Annie had not been to either one. She preferred to play with white dolls, rather than the Native American dolls. Further, Annie lived in a white foster home. She had been briefly placed with a Lakota family, but that placement had ended abruptly with a family crisis and there wasn't anoth- er Native American family available.

Initially I had struggled about whether I should see Annie in play therapy at all. The difference between who she needed and who I was seemed perfectly clear. It would have been so much more powerful for her therapist to be Native herself, to model pride in heritage, to mirror Annie's shiny black hair, deep brown eyes, sepia skin, regional Lakota speech pattern, the strong Lakota value system and the myriad subtle connections two persons from a similar identified culture share. How I regretted that there was no Native American therapist for children in the area.

What capacity did I have as a member of the "dominant" Anglo-Euro- pean culture to work competently with a child whose ethnicity is depicted as minority within this culture, even though that child's ancestors were among the first families who lived on this continent? Annie's internalized oppression was revealed by her preference for white dolls, her hurt when

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Gail Attdersott 3

somcone called her "Indian" and her embarrassment that her Native American mother was mentally ill and her Native American father was chemically dependent. Her relatives, with whom she had some contact, were mostly poor and struggling; many were chemically dependent. She needed to know that there were many different kinds of Native Americans, I told myself. She needed to understand the part racism had played in her family's story. I thought about how strongly I believe women should have the choice of a woman therapist. I worked myself up into quite a self-cen- tered frenzy about who I wasn't.

Despite this mentality, 1 made attempts to model respect for her heritage as best I could. When we played dolls I waitcd until Annie had chosen her favorite doll, always white. I then consistently chose a Native American doll whom I identified as my favorite "because she was so smart, loving and beautiful." I would go on to say that my doll looked like Annie. Already Annie did not feel beautiful and would clearly say so. Given her internalized oppression, I was pleased her white doll would even interact with my Native doll! We read books and talked about what being Native American means as well as I could transmit that. We talked about how white people sometimes put Native Americans down, but that it's impor- tant to love yourself anyway. These were all appropriate things to do.

However, gradually it dawned on me that Annie's greatest need at this point in her life was consistency and nurture. I had to prioritize Annie's agenda, rather than my own agenda about what I thought Annie's agenda should be. While I continued to include education on Annie's heritage, stories from her culture and stories we made up together, I was freed from my self-created tyranny to be primarily responsible for Annie's education about her heritage and society's racism. 1 hoped that Annie would have a - more competent teacher on anti-racism and cultural pride in the future. But Annie's repctitive and direct message to mc was that she nceded to act out the story of an intact and untroubled family.

It was more important for me to help Annie understand mental illness, and that her mom being sick was not her fault. She needed to hear that her mom loved her very much and wished she could carc for Annic and her sisters herself, and she needed to hear that over and over and over again.

Therapy flowed better at this point. Annie would put me through pre- scribed rituals each time I saw her. "Call me honey," she instructed. When I got that down, she'd change her request, "Call me sweetie." She would ask, "Put me to bed." She would call me "Mommy"; here was the "daughter" I had never had. I would tuck her into our hastily created nest and she would tell me to turn out the lights. Then we would make up stories about thc past, thc prcscnt and thc future. We would play dress-up

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4 More than a Mirror: How Cliertls Influence Therapists' Lives

and make dinner together. What Annie necded was ritual, consistency, nurture and assurance that hope was justificd.

When I see a child in therapy who lives with a parent, it is imperative that I never, consciously or unconsciously, compete with thc parent for the parental role. Seeing a child who knows she is not "going home" requires a far deeper commitment. It is important to serve as a consistent source of empathy, to model respect for a child's original family and story and to symbolize hope for the future "home." Loving a child in this intense way can bc wrenching when therapy is over.

This is the child I wanted to take into my own home and love as my daughter. This is the child who ultimately "abandoned" me for a real home and parents. This is the child for whom I can still grieve in a very personal and selfish way. This is Annie, who taught me to stay with her agenda firsi.

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