A quick note before you read
This post was originally written while we were in the middle of a very stressful custody situation. Emotions were high, and a lot was happening very quickly.
I’ve updated the wording slightly so it reflects the perspective I have now looking back. The events themselves are accurate. This was one of the first adult family therapy sessions we attended while trying to figure out how to move forward for the sake of the kids.
Names have been simplified for privacy.
The Day Had Finally Arrived
The day had come.
It was the morning of our first adults-only family therapy session with Mr. Chaos’ ex-wife and one of the grandparents.
5 and 6 had asked for a therapy session that included us and their mom. Their therapist decided it would be best to start with the adults first. She wanted to see how we interacted and hear what each parent hoped to accomplish before adding the children into the mix.
The kids went to school without any fights that morning. That alone felt like a small victory.
Mr. Chaos and I made it to the therapy office in record time.
We pulled into the small parking lot and I took a deep breath trying to settle my nerves.
Mr. Chaos looked over at me, forced a smile, and said he was starving.
I laughed.
Neither of us had eaten that morning.
We briefly debated leaving to grab something quick, but we decided against it. We were early for once and didn’t want to ruin that by leaving and risking being late.
The receptionist told us it would be a few minutes once the other party arrived.
For a few minutes, it was quiet.
The Waiting Room
Sesame Street was playing on the TV in the waiting room.
Children’s artwork covered an entire wall. A little boy played with toys in the corner of the room.
It was clearly a therapy office designed for children.
As I looked around, I saw ex-wife 2’s vehicle drive past the front door.
Here we go.
They walked in and, as expected, ignored us completely.
She had brought grandparent 1 with her.
We had only found out the day before that the grandparent would be attending the session to “support” her. Despite the fact that this was supposed to be a meeting between parents.
They checked in with the front desk and sat down in chairs positioned so we were looking at their backs.
This would be the first time I had been face-to-face with ex-wife 2 for more than a few seconds in over six months.
The last time we saw each other had not gone well.
The Last Time We Saw Her
The last time we saw her was during the end of what had been 5 and 6’s only unsupervised visit with their mom in almost two months.
I received a frantic phone call from 6.
She was screaming that her mom was coming after them.
We live about five blocks apart.
The girls were running toward our house.
When I drove up, I saw 5 and 6 hiding in a neighbor’s bushes.
Her vehicle was parked in the middle of the road with the door wide open.
The girls ran to my car.
They got in.
We left.
A few words were exchanged between the adults, but the moment had already destroyed any remaining chance of the girls willingly being alone with her again.
Walking Into The Session
We were eventually called upstairs.
There was another waiting area on the second floor.
I was walking behind Mr. Chaos up the stairs when I tripped on my long skirt.
I remember thinking the universe was telling me to calm the hell down.
This was the first of what would likely be several adult-only sessions.
I also knew something else.
If I talked too much, the session would probably go nowhere.
Ex-wife 2 hated me.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
With a capital H.
We had grown up together. She knew exactly who I was.
I had been a stepmom to 5 and 6 for almost eight years. I had helped raise them. Helped support them. Helped care for them.
But the moment we entered anything involving decisions about the kids, suddenly I wasn’t supposed to speak.
Inside The Therapy Room
Mr. Chaos and I reached the therapy room first.
The therapist led us into a conference room. On the wall behind her was a list written in dry erase marker that looked like possible starting points for the session.
Mr. Chaos told her that ex-wife 2 and grandparent 1 were on their way up.
He also mentioned he didn’t understand why the grandparent was attending a parent therapy session.
The therapist explained that it was either the husband or the grandparent if ex-wife 2 was going to attend.
She then said something that still sticks with me.
Ex-wife 2 apparently couldn’t understand why her husband couldn’t attend.
The therapist gestured around the office.
We were sitting in a therapy center specifically for children.
Her husband was a registered child sex offender.
He was a large part of why we were even in that room.
The therapist left briefly to go greet them.
Then they entered.
Both already angry.
They sat directly across the table from us.
The Session Begins
The therapist introduced herself.
She barely finished before ex-wife 2 jumped in.
“I have one question,” she said.
“When do you see 5 and 6?”
The therapist calmly went through the schedule.
This had already been explained previously.
It had been messaged.
It had been documented.
Still, the therapist explained it again.
Then she went through some ground rules.
Mr. Chaos asked that we keep the focus on how to help the girls moving forward rather than spending the entire session rehashing the court case.
At that time he had recently filed for a custody modification.
The Question She Kept Asking
Then ex-wife 2 asked what she clearly believed was the real issue.
“What was the catalyst?” she asked.
According to her, everything had been fine.
Her relationship with the girls had been healthy.
So what caused them to suddenly refuse to go back to her house?
In her mind, there was only one explanation.
Their father must be manipulating them.
Coaching them.
Forcing them.
The reality was very different.
Over time the girls had told us that they weren’t allowed to talk about our household in their mom’s home.
They had learned quickly that mentioning us upset both their mom and their grandparents.
They had also been instructed to lie about the husband being around them.
Kids notice those things.
And eventually they stop feeling safe pretending.
Trying to Explain Without Starting a War
Mr. Chaos tried to answer her question but he was clearly struggling to keep his anger in check.
I could see it on his face.
So I asked him quietly if he wanted help putting the words together.
He said yes.
I chose my words carefully.
We were already in the middle of legal proceedings, and anything said in that room could eventually be discussed in court.
I explained that we had learned through a third party that her husband had been around the girls.
The girls had also told us they felt uncomfortable and didn’t want to return to the house.
That was the catalyst.
You could feel the anger coming across the table when I said it.
The hatred she had for me in that room was obvious.
But the truth still needed to be said.
The Pattern That Took Over The Session
From there, the session fell into a pattern.
Questions were asked.
Ex-wife 2 responded with yelling, crying, or both.
Over and over she repeated the same things.
It wasn’t fair.
She just wanted to see her children.
Mr. Chaos was controlling everything.
Meanwhile the therapist tried repeatedly to bring the conversation back to the girls.
But every time the focus shifted away from her feelings, it circled right back again.
Grandparent 1 sat across the table glaring at me for most of the session.
The tension in the room was thick enough you could feel it.
What Became Very Clear
At one point the therapist mentioned she had attempted a sibling therapy session with the girls.
It hadn’t gone well.
They spent most of the time arguing with each other.
Mr. Chaos and I laughed because we know exactly how they get.
But across the table there was no reaction.
No smile.
No recognition of the girls’ personalities.
Just silence.
That moment stuck with me.
It became very clear that the session wasn’t really about the girls for them.
It was about blame.
And control.
What We Actually Accomplished
Very little progress was made in that hour.
Two things came out of the session.
A video call was scheduled later that day.
And a supervised visit was tentatively arranged.
But emotionally, the bigger takeaway was this:
Every attempt we made to bring the conversation back to the girls was redirected back to how unfair the situation felt to her.
The focus was never really on what the girls were experiencing.
Leaving The Session
By the time we left, we were emotionally exhausted.
There would be at least one more adults-only therapy session before the temporary custody hearing.
By the time the next one happened, almost three months would have passed since everything started unraveling.
Despite everything that happened in that room, one thing never changed for us.
We kept trying to bring the focus back to the girls.
Their safety.
Their comfort.
Their mental health.
Because at the end of the day, that’s what this was always supposed to be about.
Leave a Reply