Being A Representative
An Adolescent Perspective
“Can I work today?” Mike asked when he arrived after school.
“Yes, Mike,” I said, “today is your day.”
Mike, 15, had attended the intensive outpatient (IOP) adolescent group for four weeks. Adopted as an infant, Mike was a highly anxious, hyperactive, friendly, warm, and sincere 15-year-old who had recently engaged in self-injurious behaviors. His bio mother, pregnant at 15--the same age as Mike -gave him up for adoption as an infant; the reason is unknown.
The IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program) was a group-focused, 3-4 days a week, 3 hours a day program for teens 12-18. IOP was either a step away from being hospitalized or a level down. The IOP had a revolving admission. Most remained for five to six weeks.
These teens struggled with self-injurious behaviors, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, drug abuse, and other traumas. Often motivated by love, the acute symptoms presented a radical and sometimes desperate attempt to “fix” one’s family, leave it, or become un-entangled
Twice a week, I offered the group a Constellations session.
Before a round, I told them that, given time constraints, I could not explain Constellations to the new members, one of whom was Gloria, a 15-year-old with a mouth like a truck driver.
“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. I’m not fucking crazy. My mother is fucking crazy,” Gloria said when it was her turn.
I invited Gloria and the others to sit quietly and observe the process.
Mike fidgeted in his chair. “Yes? Now?”
“Yes, Mike, now,” I said, inviting him to sit beside me.
“Yeah, Mike!” commented some of the group members.
Before I could ask Mike to settle and think about the issue or his question, he blurted out, “I’d like to know why my mother gave me away.”
“That’s a big question,” I said, offering no commentary. I decided not to use a representative for Mike. He was present and in his body, which was rare. I asked him to pick a group member to represent his biological mother.
Mike stood up and turned to--yup, you guessed it--- Gloria and said, “Would you represent my mother?”
“Gloria?” I questioned.
“Sure, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll do it.”
“You are now representing Mike’s biological mother. Stand over here in front of Mike, about 4 feet away. Allow whatever feelings emerge to emerge. Whatever physical sensations show up, just let them arise too.”
Gloria, surprisingly quiet, stood before Mike, waiting.
I turned again to Mike. “What’s your question?”
He looked at Gloria and said, “Mom, why did you give me away?”
Silence. The blood drained from Gloria’s face. She started shaking. I placed my hand lightly on her shoulder to steady her. Tears bloomed in her eyes. Her lips quivered.
“Breathe,” I encouraged.
“Mike, ask your question again,” I directed.
“Mom, why did you give me away?” Mike said.
Tears spilled from Gloria’s eyes.
“Say whatever comes to you,” I encouraged.
Gloria, steadier now, looked at Mike and said,
“I wanted you to live.”
I was stunned! My heart opened. I could feel love rise in me as tears circled the edges of my eyes and goosebumps formed on my arms. I took a breath, stood back, and composed myself.
I looked at Mike. He was smiling. Many in the group were crying. I encouraged Gloria to pay attention to her breathing. Then I turned to Mike and asked,
“How are you doing?”
“It’s enough. That’s all I need to hear,” Mike answered.
Deciding the session was complete, I directed Gloria to “shake off” the representation and return to her chair.
The group exhaled.
Mike’s friends recognized the power of his experience, with one exclaiming, “I’m so happy for Mike.”
How did the brief yet powerful constellation land in the hearts of these kids? I wondered. Did they think about their parents and families?
In the follow-up round, Gloria, back in her chair, seemed uncertain about what to do or say. Her surly attitude resurfaced,
“What the fuck just happened to me!?” she demanded.
The group exploded with laughter. The laughter provided a final exhale from Mike’s Constellation, bringing us all back to the moment.
A girl sitting next to Gloria advised her to hang in there, saying she would soon catch on and feel more settled.
This Constellation was all of 5 minutes tops. Maybe even less. Mike had a question, a question that was churning inside for years. He got his answer.
His question permeated and activated the field. I would like to believe that his young mother was something of a spitfire like Gloria, with a tough external shell, perhaps a defense against a painful childhood. We’ll never know.
Do we need to know? Did Mike?
This piece is drawn from Bill’s forthcoming book, From The Love Underneath.
To receive notice when the book is released, you’re welcome to join the waitlist:
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© William L. Mannle. All rights reserved.
Love this story!