Spoiled Children of Divorce


Ockham’s Razor
February 1, 2008, 9:32 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Children of D don’t grow up in Logical situations. The story of how our relationship with our Mother is completely different from our story about how we lived with our Father are two different stories with a hostile connection and a Tax Deduction (i.e. child/children) in between. Or, if the upbringing is Logical in any way, it’s very advanced & abstract logic, not the Kiddy, normal family kind entertained by the psych industry. We think in Parallel Universes all the fucking time.

When you go to a psychiatrist/psychologist, he/she spends an hour, maybe an hour and a half with you if you’re an important person. Mostly what he’s doing is making first impressions of you. Do you look depressed? Do you speak coherently? Do you admit that the TV talks to you? Then he figures out your money situation. If he’s a psychiatrist, he decides whether to give you anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, anti-anxiety drugs or lithium or maybe epilepsy drugs. Maybe it’s more complicated than that. After 10 years of Schooling it ought to be. But the way it was explained to me, it’s not. There are 3 neurotransmitters in the brain that psychiatrists treat. That’s it. Serotonin. Norephinephrine. And that one that starts with a P, I’m forgetting what it’s called, no it’s a D, dopamine. Maybe there’s another one by now. It doesn’t matter, in 20 years there will be a whole new story, psychiatry is only 100 years old. The entire consult is not based on in depth questioning. There’s no “your Mother was insane but one of the most amazing women you’ve ever met” and “your parents didn’t really love you all that much, truthfully, and they blamed you for not loving yourself in response.”  The drugs are rarely explained. Your prognosis is never never discussed beyond “We can treat that.” Basically, all they’re treating is rage. Repressed rage turned inwards (they like this one, sounds really deep). Blind rage. Bottled up rage. It’s all the rage.

This ties in with a principle called “Ockham’s Razor.” It’s explained here:

One of the key principles underlying modern scientific theory was developed more than 800 years ago by William of Ockham, an English philosopher and theologian. His rule, referred to as Ockham’s Razor, tells us to select the simplest theory that fits the facts of a problem. When presented a set of otherwise equivalent models, we should choose the simplest solution, not making more assumptions than the minimum needed. By following Ockham’s Razor, you reduce the chance of introducing inconsistencies, ambiguities and redundancies, and have a greater probability of solving the problem.

(http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa4083/is_200407/ai_n9445630)

The shrinks love Ockham’s Razor. Like their ideas about Rage, it reduces everything to its simplest denominators. I personally think the Medical Community has applied this rule to the wrong end of their business. Ockham’s Razor should be applied to Medical Billing & Insurance procedures rather than to the lives of living breathing creature persons. Medical Billing procedures certainly are a mystery to be wondered at, much more than the human soul.

The problem with Ockham’s Razor for Children of Divorce who are seeking treatment is that it does not apply to their experience in life. Their lives are not simple. In Divorce, you want independent kids. Not that independent kids are simple, they just are simpler for the parents to deal with because they are happy not to be home. Either that, or you want people pleasers.  People pleasers wouldn’t have been allowed in my family because my Mother liked eccentrics.

My Brother was sixteen and had just been given a car. He was independent.  He had school, he had his friends, he had a job. It was sort of convenient for him to have a Mother who was a partyer because she was cool. And he could occasionally throw parties at our condo. I was studious and determined to have a career when I got older. So I was at home. I didn’t have transportation so spent way too much time at home. And home was a depressing place. And my Mother just wanted to fuck guys so our goals were at odds with each other.  Give the kids a way to get out of the house, that’s all the advice I’ve got. The less time around the parents, the happier the kids.

There’s never been a mysterious glamor to dating for me.  When I started dating I already knew everything that could go wrong with the date all the way up to the 4th year of Divorce Court. (Actually I didn’t really start dating, I started right off the bat fucking. Hey, it was also the 70’s.) I knew how to break up with a guy before I had my first kiss. I knew that putting sugar in the tank of a guy’s car will pretty much wreck the motor, and is a really effective form of revenge (if you can get away with it, now the gas caps have locks so a bit of a challenge).

So back to Ockham. Was he Child of D? I’ll have to check. It wasn’t just, “I live with a drunk Mom.” It was, “why did my Father leave me to take care of my drunk, abusive Mother alone.” “Why did I live like a caged animals with a hyena for a parent? Why was my Father’s only concern that I act cheerful during our once a week dinners which were really a meet the family date for his new relationship.” He moved out because he couldn’t stand it. He never asked what I was going through, he just berated me for being angry or down or tired. And then he told me his problems. And then I gave advice about his problems because silent people tend to be good listeners.

And so, you can see how the ramble goes on and on. And it could go on and on more. Probably nobody has read this far along.

So, Ockham’s Razor. The people from Normal families are “do-able.” The people with the “double vision” who speak with “forked tongue” are not. If the therapist can’t follow the story it is because we are “liars” or “whiners.” It’s never, ever, simply because our story takes longer to tell and probably we aren’t real practised in telling it. So, we must stay silent. We must bottle it up. “Yeah, my parents are divorced, It was Hell, Mom has a boyfriend, Dad married my Best Friend’s Mother and then died and left everything to her so my ex-best friend has inherited my Million Dollars…”  (Curaaazzyyy).  Trust me you don’t want to be on the shrink’s couch while he tries to write that down.  And, you also can’t afford it. And the Drugs don’t take it away.  And they shouldn’t take it away because in some way it is a gift.  Just, wow, some gifts should be returnable if you realize you don’t like them.

And, finally, if you even mention the word that follows “The Big D” you are considered hostile and bitter. That, of course, pisses me off.


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