This had by now, been going on for an hour, and my nerves were frayed. Okay, I’m not really stupid. I probably should’ve grabbed my car keys and taken the kids to the park or something. But I sort of figured if Ashley became completely unglued, Mike would need my help. Like I must have had a brain fart maybe?
Ashley isn’t stupid, and when she realized that Mike and I were not going to play her games, she tried a different tactic. She opened her bedroom window which faces the front of the house and started yelling that we were keeping her prisoner and abusing her. That’s all we needed- for the neighbors to get involved. Mike stormed back to her room and slammed her window closed. I followed as far as the doorway, furious but resigned. When she ran to open the window again, Mike grabbed her wrist to stop her. That was all it took. Ashley turned and tried to kick him, but he was anticipating this and moved quickly out of her way. Mike moved in to prevent a full-scale attack, using a technique called "take down" that’s supposed to keep parents and kids from getting hurt. The take down was successful, but of course she didn’t like being held immobile and shrieked hysterically. So she spit at Mike, hitting him full in the face.
I’m not sure exactly what happened next. Mike slapped Ash smartly across the cheek, and I think he was just trying to get her under control. But she started thrashing, and she banged her face hard against the leg of her bed. It seemed as if her adrenaline was going to get the best of my husband, and he ordered me out of the room again. In the background I could hear him promising her that if she quieted down and didn’t fight, he would let her go.
I busied myself cleaning up the remains of the now-ruined dinner, but after I put food away and settled the children in front of the television, I stood outside her room for awhile. Okay, I was nosy. I wanted to know what was going on inside, but all I heard were quiet sobs and some even quieter talking. At one point, Mike poked his head out the door and told me to try to contact Ashley’s mentor, Marilyn. I did, and she came right over.
We explained the events leading up to Ashley’s violent outburst, and Marilyn talked to her privately for a couple of hours. I put the kids to bed while Mike sat morosely on the couch, apparently worn out with the battle. He seemed to want to yell at me, but he held himself together while Marilyn was in Ashley’s room.
When she was done, Marilyn came out and sat with me in the family room while Mike talked to Ashley. I was as exhausted as my husband and still trying to sort out what had led to Ash getting so vicious and outraged. Marilyn said that our daughter was frustrated because, to her, the small strides she was making seemed a lot bigger, and she didn’t understand why she wasn’t being rewarded as fast as she felt she deserved. In turn, I explained that I hadn’t seen any positive steps from her; in truth, her flash points were almost instantaneous and intense. I told Marilyn that I was concerned because it seemed as if Ashley was manipulating Mike, and I was tired of the two of them finding some way to drag me into each situation so they could pin the blame on me.
Marilyn told me that Ashley was confused about a lot of things and needed someone to talk to. And that “someone†was not Mike. Ash really wanted her mom back, but she didn’t know how to approach me. I could expect that she would be coming to me within the next couple of days to say how sorry she was once she calmed down. And I must let it go and forgive her. I must make myself available to Ash for support and girl-talk. When I protested that my daughter didn’t even want to lay eyes on me, she said that it didn’t matter, and I had to make the conciliatory steps.
Marilyn said that she thought Ashley might be getting drugs from somewhere, like when she’d gone to the mall. No matter how carefully we watched her, if she wanted to use, she’d find a way, and especially since we couldn’t be with her every minute of every day. Her drug usage was sporadic, but every time she took something, it created paranoia and mistrust in her, and the danger to the family escalated. And part of the problem was a simple matter of Ashley wanting to be treated more like a grown-up. I responded by saying I would be delighted to treat her like a normal 15 year old, but she had to act like one.
I repeated some of Ashley’s family history to Marilyn, especially about her early childhood with her birthmother, Ruby. Mike had told me that he’d had long conversations with Marilyn, so I suspected that I was repeating information, but Marilyn seemed a little surprised over my narrative. She asked questions about Ruby’s boyfriends, and I told her what I knew, which was mostly nothing. At that point, Mike arrived to thank the woman for her help, and as I saw her out to her car she squeezed my hand and told me to make the effort to break through Ashley’s shell for her sake.
After Marilyn left I went back to find Mike, and my search brought me to Ashley’s room. She was sitting on the floor next to her bed wrapped up in Mike’s arms, and they looked fine. Ashley glared a challenge at me, so I backed off. A few minutes later Mike came out to say he was taking Ashley down to his office so she could smoke a couple cigarettes and relax. I bit back a comment about letting himself be manipulated, but he caught the expression on my face and told me to mind my own business. Since when isn’t my child my business, I wanted to say? So Ashley got what she wanted which was to smoke and have her Daddy all to herself, and I got the cold shoulder.