It is Saturday morning. Well, ok, early afternoon. L comes home from staying at a friends. I am in the bath. I call her in to see me. I am applying a serum soaked cloth face mask. L and I laugh. I wonder at therapist, questioning why my daughter comes into the bathroom when I am in the bath and are there “boundary” issues? No, love. It’s called closeness.
I tell her about my conversation with the unit. She smiles as I tell her how cross I am, and then as I say that what makes me crosser than anything, is the implication that our relationship, which has always been so strong, is somehow harming her. “That’s just b*****ks” I say, from behind the cloth mask.
L exhales and sinks back against the door. She tells me how glad she is, that she thought they had ‘broken’ me and I would pull away. I also say how much ‘fragile’ annoyed me and she laughs with relief and said when the therapist said that, L thought, “You have no bloody idea who you’re dealing with here”. She describes how another girl in the unit had the same experience, and went from a close relationship with her Dad to a strained one. No one, I tell her, no one will do that to us. We fist bump. Because hugging when I am in the bath is just too far. She leaves the bathroom and runs up the stairs to her room. And I can tell from the pace of her footsteps that she feels happier.