Secrets between parents and children present challenges from
time to time in my clinical work. Obviously, secrets can be [are]
bi-directional but today, I would like to focus on the secrets that parents keep
from their children.
In my work as a child psychiatrist, without getting into detailed
specifics for reasons having to do with confidentiality and privacy, these secrets
fall mostly into two categories: (i) origin of the child (e.g., adopted by one
or both parents that the child thinks is his/her biological parent) or (ii) family
history (e.g., an important person is seriously sick or did something, usually
bad, that is being hidden from the child).
These are delicate situations. Regardless of the sound
general principle that telling the truth to children (tailored to be
developmentally appropriate and digestible) is generally better because:
children’s radars typically pick up that something is off, which is often the
case when a large magnitude secret is being kept; and the secret itself may
imperceptibly affect the caretaker behavior (e.g., may mediate increased guardedness)
and also these situations, albeit difficult, present the opportunity to build individual
and family resiliency. However, I
tend to be respectful and leave secrets as I find them, except in the not so
rare situations, where I am specifically asked to facilitate communication or
the secret is so obviously toxic that it has clinical level implications, which
need to be discussed as part of treatment planning.
There is something else too: children interpret things through
vastly different lenses. So, the idea that a piece of information may
pervasively affect a child is typically over-rated: what is more likely to
pervasively affect a child is the degree to which the information (or rather
the situation behind it) affects an important caretaker.
In my family, the secrets are relative: more like delayed
truth telling about history. At what age do you specifically give details to a
child about a (not so) remote but very painful history that directly affected
his family, without permanently threatening his/her sense of safety? This is a sub-aspect
of a more general issue: many families might struggle with the degree to which humanity’s
history, in general, can be detailed to children without thrusting them out of
childhood.
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| Righteous Among the Nations |
It is seven in the morning before school. We are in the
kitchen before breakfast: my youngest son, 9, seemingly out of the blue, asks a
question. It is a very specific question about his grandpa and what happened to
him during WWII. A definitive clue
that my son is curious for some answers. By the way: the story has been discussed many times before him but never fully directly addressed to him. So, he is giving a green light that he is ready. It does not mean that I fully am, even if I’ve done this
before with his older siblings. I
take a deep breath and launch into the details of the story, watching him for
signs that I am losing his interest or attention. He listens. He asks a few
tough “why” questions without good answers. He sits down at the breakfast
table, takes a mouthful of cereal and before crunching heartily, looks in my eyes
and states soberly: “I like this story”.
Till Later,
Anne
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