Chapter 8 - My mistake
I had heard something similar once.
Two months before the breakfast incident, Emma came home from Diane’s and said:
“Grandma says don’t tell you when Vanessa gets mad.”
I was loading groceries.
Distracted.
I asked:
“Why?”
“Because you yell.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
“Grandma thinks Mommy yells?”
Emma nodded.
I said:
“Grandma is dramatic.”
Then moved on.
That was my mistake.
Not causing abuse.
Not knowingly leaving my child in danger.
But dismissing information because it sounded like ordinary family criticism.
I should have asked:
What does Vanessa getting mad look like?
What are they asking you not to tell me?
Instead, I treated the sentence as my mother complaining about me through a preschooler.
Which was partly true.
I missed the other part.
They were training Emma to evaluate disclosure based on my reaction.
That is dangerous.
Children should not have to manage adult emotions before deciding whether to tell a parent something.
I carried guilt.
My therapist later said:
“Use guilt for information, not omniscience.”
I hated that sentence.
Because she was right.
I could learn from missing the clue without pretending the clue had announced:
May you like
Your sister will hit Emma with cookware in sixty days.
It had not.
