A Crazy Place

In the eerie night-time light of a mall parking lot in the mid 90's the feuding parents of an infant met to exchange her after a weekend visitation.  The encounter ended in the death of both parents.  The child's father shot the child's mother, and then turned the gun on himself. 

One of the most difficult jobs I've ever had was running a child visitation and exchange program in Northern Virginia that was created, in part, as a result of this tragedy. 

I was the first director of the newly created program but my experience, sadly, also ended with a similar disaster. Working with nearly every client in this program was a hurdle unique to each particular situation. The only thing they had in common was that they were all court ordered to participate. I worked with parents who had to exchange their kids through a mediator because they were just simply unable or unwilling to control their anger in front of their children (or anywhere else). This anger took so many unpredictable forms. I worked with parents who had to be forced to turn over their kids to the other parent because they were either pissed off at the ex, or worse, because they were afraid the ex would hurt the kids but it hadn't quite happened yet. Everyone was at fault. Everyone was a little crazy. Some with good reason. It was hard not to take sides; different sides every week. 

The court ordered visitation was even more scary. I watched fathers suspected of sexual abuse pull toddlers into their laps in the comfortable rocking chairs we so hospitably provided. I routinely turned away parents who showed up to visit with their small, trusting, adorable, vulnerable little kids while unbelievably drunk out of their minds or high as a kite. I sympathized with a set of grandparents who had sued their incarcerated teenage son's ex for visitation with their grandson until I got to know them better. Let's just say their son probably got himself incarcerated to get away from them. 

I also taught classes about how to help children cope with divorce to parents who were court ordered to be there. This was a "volunteer" part of the job.  I will never do this again. I have never seen a group of people so stubborn, so angry, so irrational and so unready to learn.  Anything. I could tell them the sky was blue and they would sneer at me.  You could reach out and touch the waves of animosity in the room. It took shape, had its own smell. Or maybe I was getting a little crazy too. 

You'd think I'd be prepared for my own divorce, but of course I wasn't. Like I said, every situation is unique.  I'm not saying that my situation is comparable to my former clients' and no one's been court ordered to do anything, yet, but the whole deal really, really sucks. It sucks to have an angry ex-spouse who does things that adversely affects my child. It sucks to have to pack my child's suitcase all the time.  I fantasize that one of us moves away (which is never going to happen).  

Writing has always been a coping mechanism for me, so tonight I write, and remember. Right before I left the visitation and exchange program in 1997 one of my father clients stabbed and killed his ex wife at a bus stop in front of their two pre-school aged children, making them, effectively, orphans. The father's defense attorney called me in Texas shortly after I'd moved back home to ask me if I'd come back and testify on his behalf. The attorney had read in my case notes about how the mom continually refused to show up for exchanges, saddening and enraging the father (she insisted he was either drunk or high, and he often, though not always, was). They thought I might be sympathetic.  I was not. 

I saw how frustrated and angry these parents were with each other, but nothing justifies the end they came to and I would never, even in my craziest imaginings, have predicted that outcome.  I am so sorry for those children and their mother to this day, and I wonder if I had been more attentive to the signs if I could have prevented what happened. Probably not, but I can't help but wonder.  I say I wasn't prepared for my own divorce, but my experiences in Virginia had to have had some impact on me.  I know that no matter what happens in my situation, I put my child first.  I try to think about how my ex is feeling, even on his most crazy acting days.  I understand that sometimes a parent won't think, can't think or just simply could never comprehend how adversely their negative actions affect their children.  It makes me sad, everyday, but it doesn't make me crazy.