Great-Aunt Whoever’s Funeral

Summer

The focus of this article is a female client, Summer, aged 30 years. Summer had been attending individual therapy sessions for approximately 2 years when the reported event occurred.

During one session, Summer discussed the recent trip she took with her parents to a great-aunt’s funeral. In relating her experience, she referred to the deceased as “Great-aunt Whoever, my dad’s aunt” and further explained, “I’m not close to his side of the family.” Summer harbored anger and resentment toward her father; she often talked about their mutual contempt for one another. She felt that he was a hypocrite and overly judgmental of her, particularly in regard to her sexual orientation. Many times she noted instances of his verbal abuse toward her and her partner, and she questioned how he could judge her when she had seen gay pornography in his “secret” hiding places in the family home.

On the day of the funeral, Summer noted that she knew in advance that she would see the two cousins who had sexually molested her when she was 7 years old. She said that for as long as she could remember, she had been frightened around the two cousins. She saw them rarely at family functions that she attended reluctantly. She said, “I would feel the urge to get away from them and to try to forget about it [the abuse]; I avoided them as much as possible.”

She continued, “The day of the funeral, I knew they would be there. They are both married now, and one has a 3-year-old daughter. This day was different. I left home with my parents; my father had been crying, and my mother assumed we had had another fight. She confronted me about being defiant and confrontational with him.” Summer stated, “We had not fought, but I felt strange when I saw my father cry; I offered him a tissue, asked him if he was alright, and then went out to smoke. All I could think was weird, he can cry. He’s always been so mean and nasty—sarcasm and ridicule, that’s all I’ve ever gotten.” Summer said that she had been angry with her father for “years,” but that when she saw him cry, she thought, “What’s wrong with you?” She told me it was an unusual feeling and one that she had not experienced before. She said that she did not know what to think about this man whom she calls “the donor” instead of “dad.” She noted that she felt embarrassed for her father, that he had always been “such a tough guy.” She said that she thought to herself, “He’s losing it.”

Summer continued with the story, saying that she and her parents rode together for 20 or so miles to the funeral home across the state line and engaged in superficial conversation along the way. She said her mother and father referred to the great-aunt with such statements as “She had a good life … she hung on to the end … we’ll sure miss her … she’s in a better place.” Summer said she wanted to yell at them and say, “What is this crap? He just cried, and now he’s talking like a two-bit funeral director.” She said she was waiting for her father to cry again or to say something unusual; she felt she was “on eggshells” (slightly tense). She said she thought, “What’s going to happen next?” but nothing changed as he and her mother continued to speak superficially for the remainder of the journey.

When Summer arrived at the funeral home, the first people she saw were her cousins. She said, “There they were with their little wives, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable; I looked at them and they looked at me.” She told me that one of the men stayed on the other side of the room with his wife, but after a few minutes, his daughter gravitated toward Summer and wanted to sit in her lap. Summer recounted, “I was pleased, but my cousin glared at me with a [shocked] look; I thought he might be thinking ‘What’s she going to do to my daughter?’” She said that the other cousin “circled me like an animal and looked like he wanted to say something to me, but he didn’t.” Summer and her mother guided the child into a side room, away from the casket and the other mourners, and entertained the child with toys and books.

Summer was aware that the male cousins passed by the door of the room numerous times. As she played and laughed with the little girl, she thought, “I would never hurt a child, they are sick. What they did to me is unforgiveable; anybody who would hurt a child has something wrong with them.” Summer was silent for a minute or two and then said to me, “I’m not like them … I love children … they [her cousins] are empty people if they could do those things to me knowing at the time that I was upset and crying and begging them to let me go.”

She said that throughout the funeral service, burial, and ride home, she thought about the two cousins and what they had done to her when she was 7 years old. She continued, “I felt strong for the first time in my life; I thought, they can’t get me.” At no other time during the several years that Summer attended therapy did she indicate this level of strength. This was a new occurrence. She had indicated previously the sense of weakness and guilt that she felt about the abuse, sometimes stating: “If I had only fought harder.” Her self-blame had been addressed during sessions over a lengthy period, but Summer had not been able to internalize the responsibility of her abusers versus her vulnerable state as a young child. Clearly, Summer’s level of shame and self-blame contributed to her psychological functioning as an adult (Zinzow, Seth, Jackson, Niehaus, & Fitzgerald, 2010).

Summer noted that she had struggled with the approach of every holiday and family occasion year after year when the family would gather. She had refused to go to many events because she was tired of worrying about having to see her male cousins. She said that her refusal caused problems between her and her mother, who accused her of being distant and unapproachable and had asked her many times, “What’s wrong with you?” She said that on so many of those occasions, she wanted to tell her mother the truth but could not because of her concern for her mother’s feelings. When I asked her if she told her mother on this occasion, she said that she did not and cited the same reason that her mother has so much to worry about and this would be “one more thing.” I suggested that maybe her mother would want to know—that maybe mothers have the instinct to protect their offspring from harm, and when they cannot protect them, then they comfort them. She looked at me, paused pensively, and then said she would have to think about that.

I had not known of the funeral in advance and would not have encouraged Summer to attend, since I did not think she was strong enough to face the abusive cousins at yet another family event. However, she chose to attend with her family, although she expected that she would feel discomfort interacting with her father and cousins. As Summer reflected on her day at the funeral, she acknowledged that she felt that the two cousins, now grown men, had “ruined my life.” She felt the ties of shame leave her. During past conversations regarding the two cousins, she appeared dysphoric: lowered eyes, slumped shoulders, and tearful. On this day, she made eye contact and smiled as she talked about how “weird” the whole day had been for her. I commented on her display of strength. She looked at me; made a “thumbs-up” sign; and, with a big smile, she said, “Yeah.”

The Next Phase of Summer’s Treatment

After this interview, Summer and her mother attended sessions conjointly. Initially, the conjoint sessions were at Summer’s request. She wanted to come out to her mother with the support of the therapeutic environment because she was fearful of doing so alone. Her mother did not hesitate when invited to a conjoint session. I opened the session by noting that Summer was feeling stronger and wanted to discuss personal information with her mother. At this point, Summer came out to her mother and was surprised to discover that her mother “knew already.” Summer’s mother was accepting of her daughter’s sexual orientation and was able to reassure her that she would always love her.

Summer continued to request conjoint sessions to discuss other problematic issues in her history: the sexual abuse by the cousins, her problematic relationship with her father, rivalry with her brother, and inclusion of Summer’s partner in family gatherings. One long-standing issue for Summer was that if she told friends and family that she had been sexually molested as a child, then “people will think I’m gay because I was abused.” She was open to exploring her feelings about this concern and her reasons for wanting to separate the two processes. Gradually, Summer was able to transition away from the therapeutic process as she relied on her newfound strengths and open relationship with her mother. She was able to leave the shame and guilt that she had felt behind and move forward into a more productive life course.

Therapeutic Interventions

Summer and I had discussed the prospect of coming out many times, and I had shared pamphlets and materials from the organization, Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (P-FLAG), particularly a publication entitled, Read This Before Coming Out to Your Parents (Sueman & P-FLAG Philadelphia, 1995). In this case, Summer exercised “intentionality” (Leedy & Connolly, 2006) in coming out to her mother. She chose purposely to inform her mother in an open and honest manner about her sexuality. We had discussed, at some length, the stages that parents may experience when they learn that a child is gay. Summer felt ready to bring her sexuality into the open with her mother but wanted the support of the therapeutic environment.

In addition, the narrative approach was used (Saha, Chung, & Thorne, 2011). Summer was encouraged to tell her story and to relate details of her recollection of events. The intervention draws from emotional processing theory but focuses on the contextual aspects of the client’s experiences (Daniel, 2006). Talking through the problem is not necessarily a smooth course. Clients may veer from one aspect of their experience to another, returning to the previous course throughout the therapeutic process (McAdams, 2006). Such was the case with Summer as she addressed aspects of her life: her past abuse, the conflict-laden paternal relationship, and the relationship with her partner.

Central to the issues just noted was Summer’s sense of self and her ability to relate to significant others. Self-in-relation theory (Kaplan, 1986; Miller & Stiver, 1993; Surry, 1993) was used to help Summer see that the connectedness that she sought was not a weakness, that her desire to regain the power needed to “stand up for herself” would not exclude relationships with her mother and others. For Summer, the concept that “needing” others in her life was a strength, not a sign of weakness, and could be reframed as strength was empowering. She was able to reconceptualize the structure of the important relationships in her life using newfound strengths to be her authentic self.

The moment of clarity that Summer experienced at the funeral of her great-aunt was significant. Summer realized that she was not at fault for the abuse her cousins had inflicted and that she possessed strengths as a capable woman. The importance of this event was notable within the context of therapy because Summer had struggled for several years trying to make sense of her past and to embrace her identity within her personal relationships, including her family of origin. The awareness that emerged on this day helped her to begin to move past some of the material that had caused her to be “stuck” in therapy, including her sexual orientation, which she thought was a secret that she had hidden from her mother. Fortunately for this client, an accepting parent, unconditional love, a positive response to treatment, and personal insights were helpful for the development of a stronger sense of self-worth and personal efficacy.

Conclusion

This article has presented the outcomes for one particular lesbian client, who after several years of individual therapy was able to come out to her mother and to relate more authentically with significant others, most notably, her mother. The session reported here was unique in the respect that Summer evaluated contributing factors that influenced her mental health functioning, particularly her childhood sexual molestation committed by two male cousins, and to synthesize all factors with her identity as a strong and capable woman. She was able to differentiate between the pathology of her cousins’ aggression and her feelings about herself, primarily that she was not like the cousins at all and that she was a “good” person. The techniques that were used to help guide Summer through treatment included narrative therapy, self-in-relation theory, and psychoeducational materials from P-FLAG.

Therapists and social workers may find methods that are effective with the LGBT population that I did not use. The focus of this article is to stress that social workers need to be open and willing to learn about LGBT clients, particularly if these clients are not commonly found in a specific practice setting. I worked in a rural, faith-based clinic that Summer attended primarily because the facility was one of the two choices for treatment in town, and the other facility did not accept her insurance coverage. Summer was a professional challenge and a growth experience for me as a clinical social worker. It was important for me to strive to adhere to social work ethics with Summer; I was challenged to pay particular attention to her needs as a lesbian woman because I did not have “inside” information. Lessons learned from this experience were valuable in that I viewed human relationships in a way that I had not considered previously. Relationships take on newly constructed meanings when they are defined outside our comfort zone. Meeting the client where she is can be challenging when we have not experienced what she has experienced. I conceptualized the client similarly to an unfamiliar culture, one for which I had little prior knowledge.

Much more information and research are available on effective therapies with LGBT clients now than I had access to in the past. The commitment to lifelong learning, as well as other values referred to in the National Association of Social Workers’ (2008) Code of ethics, was an important aspect of my work with this client.