Repairing relationship with adult child requires noncritical approach

Q: I want to have a normal relationship with my daughter. Mothers know their children and can smell a rat. My daughter got involved with a person who is the biggest liar in the world. She married him shortly after meeting him, finding out a year or so later that he was still married to someone else. He didn’t have the money to get a divorce. He moved her from Las Vegas to Phoenix over two years ago and there has been a coldness about her ever since. I question whether he works full time. I truly wonder if he’s on drugs. They haven’t met a neighbor or made a friend. I have suggested that I fly to Phoenix for a Saturday, but she hasn’t taken me up on it. She had been calling on her way home from work — never from home — and this stopped. This sounds like prison. She should be full of life. I can’t get her to open up. I worry she has been threatened in some way. I would like to know what I can do. — C.S., Las Vegas

A: Parents hope against hope that, as adults, their children will pick good friends and even better mates. The brass ring, of course, is that they will pick good mates that we personally like, and who like us.

I don’t have to tell you this doesn’t always work out.

But what if it’s more than personal disaffection? What if we believe ourselves to have hard — or at least substantial — evidence that our child’s mate is immature? Selfish? An addict? A freeloader? Of low character?

Marriage is designed to change us and grow us. But what if, in our heart of hearts, we cannot deny our observation that this particular marriage to this particular person is impeding or regressing our child’s growth and development? What if the changes are bad? What if we see our child as increasingly withdrawn, depressed, isolated, and we believe it is the marriage that is slowly poisoning our child’s spirit?

Or worse. What if we suspect — or know — our child’s mate is wicked? Or evil. I’m not being dramatic. Murder victim Laci Peterson was a normal person in an apparently normal marriage.

Still …

I want you to notice that all your assumptions have to do with the husband. He’s a liar. A polygamist. Underemployed. Possible drug use. Perhaps threatening your daughter.

See if the energy around your anxiety changes if you stop looking at the husband and aim your critical focus at your daughter. It might sound like this: “If half of what I think about the bozo-husband is true, then what the heck is wrong with my daughter that she’d remain for a half a second with such a big-time loser?”

Now, I know this is hard, and that it might sound like piling on. But I’m convinced it’s an ultimately more useful way to see this picture. In a lightning strike, it changes your daughter from victim to morally responsible human, a human being about whom you have legitimate expectations.

When you speak to your daughter, resist the temptation to inquire critically about the marriage at all. Unless you can substantiate that he has committed or is planning to commit a crime, then, as regards the marriage, put on an attitude that is encouraging, naïve, warm: “How’s (husband)? … I sure hope you two are remembering to make time for one another … Say hi to (husband) for me,” etc.

What you’re trying to do is create an atmosphere with the best chance of making your daughter feel respected and safe, the best chance of relieving your daughter of any fear that, should she choose to talk to you about some aspect of the marriage that is unhealthy, she would risk your shame, rejection or condescension.

Let your critical inquiries be about yourself and your relationship with your daughter: “Have you not liked me much lately? I just ask because it seems like it’s harder and harder to stay connected with you? Are you angry with me? You just don’t seem like yourself lately.”

I call this the “One Down” position, and it increases the chances that your daughter does not see you as antagonist or enemy, someone with whom she would choose self-destruction before choosing to lose face.

We have to let our children go, which means we have to face the cruel helplessness of watching them make choices that disappoint us, sadden us and sometimes terrify us. But nothing stops us from building and nurturing a bridge between us back across which they might someday limp, rest, heal … and prepare to try again.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@reviewjournal.com.