“But we were a classic American family. That’s what my father said. We’d gather at the dinner table and he’d say, ‘What a great American family!’”
“And what was dinner like?” I leaned towards the young woman in the other chair. I’d been seeing her in therapy every week for a few months.
“Dinner was okay, I guess. Sometimes my oldest brother would tell me to close my mouth.” She shrugged.
“Close your mouth when you were eating?” I smiled.
“No, I knew that. I mean when I was just listening or taking my plate to the dishwasher or something.” She narrowed her eyes.
“How did that feel?” This wasn’t the first time I’d heard of nitpicking details this family had imposed on each other. Her mother took a white glove to my client’s dresser top every Saturday at noon and she was grounded all day if any dirt showed.
She raised her eyebrows. “It felt like I couldn’t even choose what expression to display on my own face. Like I had to do every detail the way somebody else wanted. Who cares if my mouth is open or closed? What earthly difference can it make?”
“Yes.” It was the first time I’d heard her anger. Previously, she’d been resigned or defensive if I questioned any of her family’s behavior. We went on to discuss more instances of overcontrol and perfectionism that had felt invalidating.
She’d come to me because she was depressed, to the point of overeating, oversleeping, and poor work performance. She had taken on her family’s perfectionism and criticism and used it toward herself. It took longer than she expected to learn to be easier on herself, but eventually, with much prayer and therapy, she did.
If the first step of forgiveness is to name the sin, where is the sin against my client (whose details have been changed to protect confidentiality)? Western culture has become so psychologized, we’ve lost the language for sin. But isn’t it sin to try to control every detail of someone else’s life? Where is the love in that? Love accepts non-sinful individual variation.
Isn’t it sin for a mother to expect an 8 year old to clean to a white-glove standard? Isn’t it a sin of hypocrisy for a father to proclaim greatness and ignore the unease in the family? Some of the most difficult clients I’ve worked with have come from families whose “family mythology” about themselves was, “We’re a great family,” when, in fact, they were not.
Did your family look anything like this? Were the sins subtle or hidden? If we want to find peace through forgiveness, we need to name the sin, first.
Father, show us the sin against us. Help us to see what you see.
