Therapy in 10 years ...

                                           (Watching a life coach raising his 7yo daughter.)

“I have an idea—for an activity that we can do!” I said.

                                     He replied       “Daddy-Daughter time is at 4pm.

                                                                                  It’s not 4 yet.”

                                     It was 3:56.

                                    Dad set up a golf course for daddy-daughter time.

                                    Because he likes golf. 

                                    Then he took a phone call

         On his daddy golf course.

While I waited.

Dad times me when I brush my teeth.

         Once, he played a toothbrushing song; 

                                   I liked that better.

                                   But he said I didn’t brush my teeth well—

         and brought back the timer.

I told daddy that I wanted to pee. 

  He said

                                 “Why don’t you wait until later, then try to poop.

                                   Your farts smell like you need to poop.”

              So I waited.

I offered Josh some fruit from my lunchbox that I didn’t eat.

Dad said “I did a lot of work to cut up those fruits.”

I felt excluded by the kids next-door and screamed-and-cried outside.

         Dad took me inside and told me how

         embarrassed that made him

         in front of our neighbors.

I had a night terror. I don’t remember screaming the words

                           “Nooo, daddy, I’m sorry!!!” But

                                           Josh heard me. I have

                                                  night terrors a lot.

Dad ate a special brownie one night. 

      In a trance, he cut a watermelon,

      then just watched me and smiled 

      while I read a story to the adults in the room.

        For a few hours, 

              he forgot about time, 

                      and so did I.

                                  We were just—     together.

Dad said “Honey” 

40 times this morning.

         It doesn’t sound sweet

         when he says it

         like that.

Dad said “I want to acknowledge that you put your toys away.”

         It doesn’t feel warm

         when he says it

         like that.

I asked daddy

who’s on his phone

                                    and he said  “That’s not

                                                          your business. That’s my business.”

I was talking to Josh, 

and dad interrupted to tell me what Josh was saying.

                                   So I said     “I’m talking to Josh. 

                                                      And that’s my business, not your business.”

         Dad seemed really upset by that—

         I'm confused about why.

I ask permission 

Even with my free time,    “Dad,

                                          what can I play with?”

I put a 1-minute timer on my friend

         while she was eating a

                       mango.

I am always looking for ways to bend the rules, in a system of strict controls,

         to get more of what I want.

I am anxious, apologetic, and demanding. Home is a clock, a directive, a debate.

I have trouble feeling out what is genuine. “I hear you.” “Take it to completion.”

Dad sends me downstairs to “re-do” my knock    before I come up to his room.

As I leave, 

         he calls me back up, 

         to order me back down

         to *quietly* close his door.

Between controlled and loved—I don’t know which I feel more.