Now matter how hard you try to avoid your family’s problems, they’ll find a way to suck you in
The Therapeutic Value of Avoidance
Small Tales
BOB CLOSED HIS EYES AND BREATHED DEEPLY before he entered his parent’s house. Breathed only once, however, because if he stopped to think about his next move, he’d hyperventilate and run back to his car, and maybe that would be his best option. But he refused to think about it, breathed deeply once, and turned the knob.
The first sound he heard was arguing. Not only the sound of arguing but of vitriol, invective, and virtual bloodletting. And not only his parents, but his two sisters, his sister Martha’s husband, and his younger brother Also Bob, who took his name Bob because his mother was recovering and his father thought having two boys named Bob (Bob Jr. and Bob III) was funnier than a boy named Sue.
It wouldn’t have mattered if Bob was the only one of his siblings to drop by. His parents would have argued in everyone’s absence. Arguing is what his family did. He slipped into the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and sat quietly at the table. His shrink had advised him simply to sit through the arguments and not contribute. Advice that worked. Since then, his blood pressure had dropped to 120 over 80.
The first sound Bob heard was arguing. Not only the sound of arguing but of vitriol, invective, and virtual bloodletting. And not only his parents, but his two sisters, his sister Martha’s husband, and his younger brother Also Bob.
Fifteen minutes later, his mother noticed his presence. “What about you, Bob? Nothing to say?”
Bob shook his head. He’d tuned out the argument.
After half an hour, Also Bob leaned across the table. “You’re really not getting involved?” That was when the doorbell rang. After everyone shouted for him to come in, Bob’s parents’ pastor stepped into the room.
They took seats around the table and stared at Bob. He swallowed. “What’s up?”
Pastor Mooreland cleared his throat. “Your family expressed concerns that you no longer engage in family discussions.” His parents and siblings laid their notes on the table.
Bob bunched the tablecloth with his fingertips. “This is an intervention?”
His mother tossed the opening volley. “Bob, we want you to know we always welcome you into our home.” Bob placed his hands in his lap and checked his blood pressure. 190 over 150. So much for therapy.
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