A Christmas Sampler a Christmas Anthology by Andrea DiMaggio Alan's Story

“I see you’re in boy-mode today.” Phyllis smiled warmly; it wasn’t an indictment, merely an observation.

The home office of Phyllis Angstrom, LPC and EEC Neurobiofeedback Therapist

“So how are you today, Allie?” Phyllis Angstrom didn’t waste time with the girl; she seemed to be primed each time to gush like a well spring.

“Mom just won’t listen.” She shook her head and folded her arms.

“Didn’t we just go over this last session, Allie?”

“Yes…but… I know I can’t change her, but it’s getting to the point where I can’t even be myself at home, despite her promises.”

“What about your stepfather?” Nita probed and poked with Allie, more so than most of the teens she’d worked with because she not only had insight, but she displayed a tenacity and a willingness to work hard in therapy; her development demonstrated insight beyond most teens.

“She won’t take the chance. He’s always screaming about something being wrong, and it’s like I can’t even be myself anywhere.” She put her head down and started crying.

“Okay, what’s going on right now…things don’t seem any worse than usual. Why the tears?”

“Why?” She lifted her head and darted her gaze down at her body, as if to indicate an answer.

“I see you’re in boy mode today.” She wasn’t criticizing; it was merely an observation.

“You’ve always got time before and after our sessions to change, but you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie today. What’s that about?” The girl picked up the stuffed toy cat next to her and held it close to her body in an attempt to comfort herself. Allie was starved for physical affection, having a mother and step father who were polar opposites. Tom Czerzik was an angry man who often yelled at the girl for no apparent reason, and frequently yelled at her because she didn’t act like the ‘man’ she was.

Nita Czerzik, on the other hand, was cold and nearly numb emotionally; perhaps the effect of two failed marriages and a live in de facto husband and step-father to her child. She found herself withholding affection to Tom, and her disappointment just flowed like a glacier into her relationship with her son.

Neither had hugged the girl in four years. It amazed Phyllis that the girl actually was able to cope; not just to function, but deal well on a day to day basis with rejection. She smiled warmly at the girl.

“I’ve tried, Phyllis…I sent her a card for her birthday…you know…the ones on the internet..with music and pictures. I signed it ‘To a great Mom from a loving daughter’ and her response was ‘Thank you, Alan…you’re a good boy.’ A good boy? She didn’t even read the bottom or if she did she ignored it.”

“That’s very sad, isn’t it, Allie?” The girl choked back a sob.

“It’s like she doesn’t see you…she looks at you but sees someone else.” Phyllis looked purposely at the boy clothes.

“So maybe if you wear jeans and a hoodie, at least she might see her son?” The girl nearly pouted as she began to cry.

“If you can’t be noticed as you, maybe they’ll notice you as the person they think you are, right?” She nodded and Phyllis continued.

“How does that help Allie? You’ve come here the last three times in boy mode…your mother has dropped you off every time, right?” Allie nodded again, trying to stop crying.

“And has she noticed you…do you get any more attention than if you wear your own clothes?” Phyllis was sure of the answer, but she had to challenge the girl’s thinking; it was counterproductive and codependent at its core.

“No…I don’t know why I even bothered.” She looked at herself again and scowled.

“I’m so stupid.”

“No, Allie, you’re a very bright girl who just wants her family to care. And you did what you did because you’re desperate and feel what?” Phyllis felt like she was leading the girl, but Allie had actually used the word Phyllis was looking for in a breakthrough the previous week.

“She looks at me like I’m still a little kid…like if I only get older I’ll grow out of it, like Pokemon or Gamecube.” She shook her head.

“I feel helpless…like I can’t do anything to satisfy them…like I’m…” She paused and looked at Phyllis.

“What do you feel like, Allie? What does that make you feel like.”

“Like no matter what I do it’ll never get any better.” She was teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff, but she alone had the lifeline at hand. She grabbed it when Phyllis asked,

“So…what do you take away from that, Allie? What does that mean to you?”

“It’s just hopeless.” She shook her head at the thought. “If…If things don’t get better when I try to be what they want…..” Phyllis tried hard not to, but if she had a mirror at that moment she expected she would have seen herself getting very excited.

“I should just be who I want to be.”

“I think that’s a very good idea, Allie.”

“Phyllis?”

“Yes, Allie?” The girl looked as somber as she had ever seen since she had started to come for therapy.

“How much time do I have?” The girl looked at her empty wrist; her watch, a nice girl’s Seiko, sat on her nightstand, unused.

“Oh, gosh…we’ve hardly talked at all.” Phyllis fibbed, but her two o’clock appointment had canceled.

“Oh…okay.” The girl’s voice trailed off. Her face had the look of someone who really wanted to ask permission for something even though she felt she didn’t deserve it. Phyllis cut through Allie’s emotional red tape.

“You left your back pack here last week, you know, just before the snowstorm. It’s in the den, and I’m sure you can find something? Go ahead, we’ve got plenty of time.”

About fifteen minutes later the girl came back. She wore a green jumper over a red tee along with dark brown tights and brown suede flats. Her ponytail sported a new barrette and her face sported a nice smile.

“Phyllis…I opened my bag and I found this,” She pointed to her body in a broad gesture and then began to cry. Phyllis was glad that the girl hadn’t the time to put on her makeup.

“Just think of it as an early Christmas present, Allie. You’re nearly sixteen, and I think it’s time you allowed yourself out. I don’t think it’s healthy to keep this bottled up and my supervisor agrees. You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything, but I think it would be helpful it you asked your parents to come with you next month, sort of a good way to start the new year. You can wear that if you feel safe when we get together.

“You mean I can keep this?” The girl blushed and cried at the same time.

“I’d like you to consider this a tool for therapy rather than a gift. I can help you better if you feel free to talk, not as Alan, but as Allie, and I think this will help you confront your parents, okay?”

“Okay, Phyllis…I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.”

“The look on your face is thanks enough.” She smiled and the girl smiled back.

“And Allie?” Phyllis asked. The girl had sat down at the computer desk for her biofeedback training.

“Yes?”

“Merry Christmas!”

Next: Cheryl's Story