Psych - e - News

An Online Magazine from the
    New York State Psychological Association
   Division of Psychoanalysis

  Issue #6                                                                                                 Fall 2009

 

 

 

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Parents and Children: The Separation Issue

 

Editor's Introduction


Our Issue Editors, Roanne Barnett, Ph.D., and Janet Tintner, Psy.D., bring us a close examination of a crucial phase of childhood, the separation process. In this universal human experience children learn to move into the world emotionally and socially on their own, apart from their parents, who serve as a secure base to whom the children constantly return for reassurance and security. In ordinary life this can be the source of both tension and joy.


Our first article shows us a mother and young infant developing their own pattern of coming together and moving apart, and also introduces us to a new body of psychological research on infant development. The second article presents a real example of a little girl struggling with separation and shows us what parents can do to help.  And our last article shines a light on an ordinary childhood event, playdates, to reveal how much psychological learning goes on with them.

We hope this is useful to all parents, and even to any adult readers wondering about their own sense of relationship and safety in the world.

Susan B Parlow, Ph.D.
Editor-in-Chief

 

Separation: The Early Months

He was strapped into an infant seat. Sometimes he smiled, glistening with drool. Other times he would whimper or kick his feet. He gurgled and babbled, made faces, and shifted his gaze. He was at turns excited, calm, and bored. He didn't know we were watching him. She knew though. And she worked at being entertaining and exciting to her baby, though sometimes we could see her suddenly shifting, slipping into boredom, too. Then she would rev herself up again, wooing her guy with her face, her voice, her hands shaking his little limbs.

He didn't always want to be wooed. Sometimes he'd turn his head to his side, as if to turn a deaf ear, particularly when she loomed in on his whole body. With his "rejection" she would woo harder by tickling him, whereupon he'd stiffen back against his seat, as if to escape. This would prompt her to call his name and pull on him, determined, it seemed, that he climb onto her rollercoaster. Eventually he would just shut down completely, his head lolling to the side, his eyes closed. She would sit back in her seat looking deflated. This encounter typified their four- and six-month-old play episodes.

At nine months, when he was able to move about on his own, the baby crawled around scouting out the toys while the mother sat on the floor looking characteristically bored.  Suddenly she'd scoop him up with a big whoop and cuddle and tickle him. He'd usually laugh, then wriggle his way out from under her and crawl off for more exploring, apparently ignoring his mother. However, when she left the room for a brief separation he dropped the toys and scooted to the door, banging and crying until she returned. He was unable to sustain exploring his world on his own for even a few minutes. A brief cuddle on mom's return restored his emerging independence and energy, and he returned to playing by himself "alone" as his mother looked on.

In this example, a competent mother is doing her best to follow the researchers' instructions to "play" with her baby. Sometimes she succeeds. He giggles and coos. But she also wears out both the baby and herself.  She does not recognize or maybe needs to ignore the cues in the baby's own interests and feelings, apparent in his babbling and body language. Perhaps it makes her too anxious to feel separate from her baby; perhaps she can only engage with the baby on her own terms, which she defines as one of them entertaining the other. If the baby wants to explore, to expand his horizons, he has to leave the mother, which she cannot tolerate for very long. But neither can he enjoy his separateness without the mother in the background, even if she says nothing, does nothing to augment his curiosity, his venturing out to explore and conquer the world. She doesn't even seem to enjoy observing his curiosity and delight, unless it's directly with her and intensely exciting, and physical.

What can we learn from this mother and baby? How can they inform our understandings today of children and even adults?  Over the past sixty years, psychologist and psychoanalyst researchers have been videotaping and closely watching mother-infant pairs from birth to three years and longer. This highly detailed study has revealed the intricacies of how, very early in life, the foundations of one's sense of self, and one's personal emotional and social patterns, are created through ordinary daily interactions with young infants. The rhythms, tempos, matches and mismatches of our mother and little boy lay down his enduring foundation for relationship.

 I think here of adult individuals and couples who come in for analytic therapy with related difficulties. In my clinical work with grownups, we address these same kinds of wordless experiences, accessed through feeling and memory, preference and attention, that forge the stuff of attachment, security, and social style, before language can render them accessible to conscious awareness. Infant research illuminates the invisible layers of all relationship that is relevant throughout life, and may need to be reworked if trouble arises.

The constant flow of coming together and being apart are practically imperceptible in their ordinariness. Yet they form a foundation of personality and relationship within and beyond the family. Follow-up research over decades reveals how separation and reunion are a fundamental timeless process in daily life across cultures, so ingrained that we do not even notice how the experience permeates how we feel about ourselves and how we relate to significant others. A heightened awareness of this aspect of human social relatedness can help each of us to tune into one another and prevent or augment the natural anxiety or self-confidence caused by our daily comings and goings, near and far, short or long.  

Roanne Barnett, Ph.D.

 

 

Separation Anxiety and Parents

Ashley is a shy, soft-spoken eight-year-old girl.  She was a withdrawn and teary kindergardener, but she overcame this and adapted well in the early grades.  Yet one day, her mother was late in picking her up, and since then Ashley has been clinging to her mother at the school entrance, and is upset and tearful by the end of the school day. Almost everyone can recall some moment like this in life, when the absence of an important person was intensely upsetting and painful. Although Ashley had gotten over this once at this time she could not get emotionally balanced again,  and her parents brought her to see me.

In my psychology practice, I'm often consulted about children with problems like Ashley's-children in whom ordinarily normal anxiety over someone's absence has developed into a more severe problem that clinicians call 'separation anxiety'. Forming strong relationships is a vital core to becoming human, built into our very genetic endowment through evolution, and almost all infants pass through a phase of anxiety at being separated from their key relationship. The good news is that parents can exercise control over its course by  helping their child deal with the painful feelings about parent absence.

Psychologically, around age seven months children begin to understand that people exist separate from themselves - meaning they begin to realize that these key others on whom they depend can come and go as they please, outside of the child's control.  At the same time, the child's memory develops to the point where they recognize the difference between parents and strangers. This constitutes a big developmental step - understanding how reality is constructed - but it's not an easy lesson. 


With this acute new awareness, many infants are overwhelmed with distress when separated from their own parents or caregivers, or when a stranger tries to come too close.  They cry or withdraw into silence and refuse to interact at all.  After all, the infant knows only "now".  He hasn't formed a concept of return, and has no sense of time.  He does not know that his mother will return; he knows only that she can come and go as she pleases, he can't control her, and she is not here NOW.

This distress is painful for parents, but the infant's protests are part of the healthy development of control over the vital emotions of relationship.  The infant is feeling his need for his caretaker, and can now - with help - learn to tame those feelings. Normal stranger anxiety and separation anxiety usually peak around twelve to eighteen months and largely subside by about age three. 
   
Problems with Separation Anxiety

But some children do not easily master this anxiety and feel continued agitation over leaving parents and familiar settings, into their elementary, middle and high school years.  Panicky clinging in older children-the kind of Separation Anxiety Disorder that becomes school refusal or social isolation-makes them unhappy and interferes with their learning . A child in this state is very resistant to being apart from home and family. His distress is out of proportion to the situation.  The child might also express fears that something terrible-a death or an illness, for example-might occur to a parent or to herself.  He may be fearful of sleeping alone or refuse to attend school or participate in other activities. 

Managing Separation Problems

The quality of the parental relationship does not create or prevent separation anxiety in an infant. Feeling this anxiety is a normal stage of human development.  But the parent-child relationship plays a central role in overcoming normal separation anxiety by helping the child to develop a sense of security in the parent's absence. 

Parents who are responsive to their child's feelings foster secure attachment-a sense that the child can rely on his parents to care for and soothe him. This secure sense comforts him even when parents are not in sight. Repeated experiences that the parent 'gets' what the child feels are crucially helpful to the child and gives him or her the real experience, again and again, that Mommy and Daddy are paying attention, sees my need, and comes through for me. They will come back!

Verbal reassurance and a soothing tone of voice are good parent tools for managing anxiety in young children.  Separation anxiety starts before a child talks, but he will be very tuned into subtle parental messages.   Although the infant doesn't yet understand complex language, parental reassurance using simple words, e.g., "Mommy goes away; Mommy always comes back" does get through.  The infant is likely to respond to the soothing tone of voice and will incorporate those words as he learns language.  The words will eventually help him to understand what is happening and to master his fears. 

Explanations and reassurances are even more important for older children.  Naming fears is the first step in mastering them.  Children benefit from learning that their feelings have names, and that their fears are usually different from what really happens.  They are safe; the parents are safe; they will be reunited.  Explanations also help him understand time, and that things change over time.  "Mommy is leaving NOW, but Mommy will return LATER"-or, more concretely, "when it's time for lunch, when it starts to get dark," etc. Because verbal reassurances are so important, parents should resist the temptation to slip away when the child is distracted without saying anything; and of course, the parent should make sure to do what she said she would do.

With care and preparation, most children overcome anxieties about separation.  For others, a therapist experienced in working with childhood anxiety can help parents to help their children to master those fears. 

Ruth Vogel, Ph.D.

 

 

Parents and Playdates: A Step in the Separation Process


When four and a half year old Anna enters my office she reminds me of a Renaissance putti, those blond, curly-haired cherubs that one might see in a Raphael painting. Her mother, Mrs. C, tells me why they have come to see me. Recently, during a parents' day at Anna's preschool, Anna had to hold onto her mother's hand at all times.  All the other mothers and fathers were standing on the outskirts of the classroom while their children freely played and mingled, but Anna was so tied to her mother she couldn't play. Anna's difficulty separating from her mother to explore the world became the focus of the treatment.

In our first meeting, Anna demonstrates her struggle.  She clutches her mother's body even as Mrs. C tries to sit in an office chair.  Anna eyes my toy cabinet and desperately tries to reach the toys several feet away.  She can't reach them because she cannot let go of her mother.   As I watch her in these moments, I can see Anna's yearning and fear.  Looking at Mrs. C, I can feel her ache and frustration.  As a parent I, too, have experienced the tension that inevitably comes as we face some moment when our child is unhappy, scared or lonely.
 

As a mother, psychoanalyst and child psychotherapist for twenty-five years, I know how much strength it takes for parents to bring their child to a therapist.  I have heard their many questions.  Can their child be helped?  Will I blame them for their child's problem?  How can they talk to me about something so uncomfortable?  Will I listen and respect their efforts? Yet when treating a child, especially one as young as Anna, parents are a key part of the process.  Child therapy usually involves direct play therapy with the child and a therapeutic process in which parents must reflect and gain an understanding of how they may have contributed, even inadvertently, to their child's dilemma, and what they can learn that will contribute to a better outcome.  Such was the situation with Anna and her mother.

The first step towards Anna learning to separate involved her coming to play with me.  After a number of sessions she relaxed enough to leave her mother's side, crossing the room to reach the toys and me. Gradually Anna began to have so much fun playing games with me that she would at times forget that her mother was in the room.  Her excitement about our fun started to grow, and she brought several stuffed animals from home to join our "pack" of animal playmates in the office. In effect, I was her first playdate and these were her first successful playdates.

The next move was to set up playdates with children her age.  I met with Mrs. C to talk about calling up other parents to plan a playdate for the children.  As we spoke Mrs. C began to realize that playdates weren't minor matters, but would help Anna learn to make friends and could lay the groundwork for learning how to develop a social life.  It turned out that this was an area of difficulty for Mrs. C herself.   She confided her own reluctance to socialize outside of the immediate family. Mrs. C hesitated to call other parents from her own fear that they might reject her or Anna.  Furthermore, she felt guilty about her full time job and tried to compensate for weekday absences by devoting herself to Anna the rest of the week.  As she and I spoke of these concerns, Mrs. C came to realize that her own fears and guilt might be holding Anna back.

Mrs. C used this important new awareness as a springboard to overcome her anxiety and arranged for Anna's first playdate with Sarah, a classmate.  Immediately Anna made plans to show Sarah the very stuffed animals that she had played with in my office.  A cuddly kitten and purple turtle began new lives in play between Anna and Sarah.  They facilitated Anna's transition from playdates with me to playdates at home with a lively friend from school.  Pretty soon, Anna began to ask for playdates with other classmates, and Mrs. C became creative in setting them up.  She gathered boxes of felt markers and multi-colored stickers.  She organized outings to the park and to Steve's ice cream parlor.  Whenever Anna and a playmate argued, Mrs. C learned skillfully to divert the children, or helped Anna share a toy or compromise her position.  At times, Mrs. C simply stepped back and let Anna and her friend work it out together.

Watching Anna's interactions with playmates, Mrs. C began to see her daughter in new ways.  A comfortable distance and healthy separation evolved between mother and daughter as Mrs. C came to see in Anna a fuller and more complex person.  Anna's developing independence also grew as she became more confident and able to take the initiative in her play with me and with her new friends.

Playdates look like a simple matter, but in fact they are occasions of growth and change. On playdates children learn to interact with peers outside of the family and learn how to develop friendships.  They practice how to share and resolve conflicts or differences of opinion.  Children have opportunities for fun and experiences of themselves in a multitude of situations.  Learning to relate to non-family individuals who may be less tolerant and readily accepting of one's feelings or wishes is a milestone in the life of every person. For parents, playdates offer opportunities to see their children in new ways, discovering the individual person who is yet their familiar child. When a child has difficulty separating the importance of playdates stands out in stark relief.    While many parents will readily attest to the value of playdates, it is easy to take them for granted and to overlook their true influence and meaning in a child's growth.
 

Jacqueline Ferraro, D.M.H.

 

 

About our Authors

Roanne Barnett, Ph.D. is a developmental and clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst who began her private practice after almost a decade of mother-infant research at The Payne Whitney Clinic at New York Presbyterian Hospital.  She practices psychoanalysis, psychoanalytic psychotherapy, couples therapy, and EMDR in her Manhattan office.

Jacqueline Ferraro, D.M.H. is a psychoanalyst and child and adolescent clinical psychologist.  She is teaching faculty, a supervisor and Director of Curriculum in the Child and Adolescent Psychotherapy Training Program at the William Alanson White Institute.  She is Assistant Director of the Parent Center at the William Alanson White Institute and in private practice in Manhattan

Ruth S. Vogel, Ph.D. is a psychologist in private practice in Manhattan, with specialties in eating disorders and child and family therapy.  She has also taught at Temple University and Holy Family College, both in Philadelphia, and at Temple University's campus in Tokyo. 

 

 

Susan B. Parlow, Ph.D., Editor in Chief
Nicholas Samstag, Ph.D.,
Executive Editor
Roanne Barnett, Ph.D. and Janet Tintner, Psy.D., Issue Editors
Roanne Barnett, Ph.D., Don Greif, Ph.D., Maureen O"Reilly-Landry, Ph.D.,  Janet Tintner, Psy.D., Ruth Vogel, Ph.D., Editorial Board


NYSPA, Division of Psychoanalysis

With special thanks to the Psychoanalytic Society of the Post Doctoral Program in Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis at NYU, for initial funding.