The Flock

by Joan Frances Casey

  He knows as well as I do that we’re all too deeply into this now for anyone to back out, but I guess this is Gordon’s reminder to me that he has his own way of doing things. He probably also would like to maintain a position from which he can disclaim responsibility for anything the Flock might do and distance himself from Flock overreactions. I wouldn’t mind being able to do that myself sometimes.

  Last week, Gordon talked on the phone with Steve in one of our now regular attempts to prepare Steve for how intensely involved with us he is likely to find “Jo” upon his return to Chicago next month. For once, Renee’s anxiety doesn’t seem out of proportion with reality. She’s begged us to help Steve understand.

  Gordon said that Steve sounded far less wary when he learned that Harry approved of the work Gordon and I were doing together; Steve was glad to hear that Gordon and I met with my supervisor periodically to talk about the Flock’s progress and brainstorm next steps.

  “I think I convinced him that we’re not doing anything ‘kinky,’ ” Gordon said after the phone call. If Steve understood that our “consults” with Harry were actually happy-hour meetings at the campus bar where the staff congregates on Friday afternoons, he might feel differently.

  Unfortunately, Steve told Renee a day later that he thought he could handle the inordinate amount of time she spent with us now that he understood that the only interest we had in her was clinical. Despite two years of evidence to the contrary, Renee called me enraged.

  “I know we don’t mean anything to you. That ‘family’ crap was all a sham. You just want us to get better and leave you alone.”

  It took four days to help Renee regain her trust in us. This was a good object lesson in how shaky things are for the Flock. We make many steps forward, but one false move, one misstatement, can send them all scuttling back to their former wariness. I need to keep their vulnerability in mind as treatment progresses.

  But that’s the therapist talking. As a “mom” in her early fifties who ends the workday to start raising an unplanned “flock,” I sometimes feel underappreciated and unable to share my needs with Gordon. I knew months ago that the therapist-versus-parent role would be difficult, but I was prepared for the problems to be the Flock’s, not mine.

  23.

  Jo, Josie, Rusty, and Missy all felt secure in their relationships with Gordon and Lynn. I felt envious.

  I knew it was my own fault. I had carefully distanced myself from “therapy” for the two years and two months that Lynn had worked with the Flock. I called myself the “message-and-delivery” person: I made sure that Lynn knew what was happening in the Flock’s life and that we got to the appointments with her on time, but I was delivering those other personalities, not myself. I didn’t need therapy. My only real problem had been that the other personalities fought me for my time and my body.

  But now things had changed. Being a family with Gordon and Lynn was different from being in therapy. I desperately wanted to feel connected to people, but was afraid to take relationships too seriously. Everything remained on the surface. I told myself to expect nothing so that I wouldn’t be hurt when relationships ended. My husband, Keith, had been the only person who I thought would stay forever. In the end, he left.

  I watched with detached amazement through March and April as Lynn and Gordon demonstrated their acceptance of the various personalities. I monitored carefully, but never heard Lynn say, “We’ll have to get rid of this one.” Gordon never said, “I hate it when this personality is out.”

  Gordon even defended Josie. If ever there were a personality I would have gleefully turned from the fold, it was that deeply troubled, inarticulate, panic-filled personality.

  Gordon saw a different Josie. He helped her communicate, helped her grow stronger, encircled her with love as she fought the approach of her memories, held her quietly as, exhausted from panic spent, she trustingly fell asleep on his shoulder. “Josie has strength. She has something important to give to the Flock,” he said to me. “You’ll see.”

  I could tell that Gordon genuinely loved Josie. I could tell that Gordon and Lynn loved them all. Since I didn’t throw fits which needed their attention, I decided that they must not care for me as they did the others. On some level, I figured that that was probably OK; at least I wouldn’t get hurt if they decided to give up on the Flock. But I still felt left out.

  —

  THEN THE OTHERS BEGAN to take more of my time outside Lynn’s office. Kendra and Isis often popped out during shopping trips. Rusty pushed me aside at home to take time to work in the shop. Even Missy whined when she didn’t have time to play, and she threatened to “tell her friend” that I was mistreating her. These were annoyances, but there was other interference that felt more dangerous.

  Josie was now fully awake and filled with memories—her as-real-as-today memories of abuse. She still had little understanding of current reality, aside from a new desire to call for Gordon when she groggily reached consciousness. I lived in fear of her coming out at some inappropriate time.

  Once I fled a faculty meeting when I found myself fixated on a painted white concrete wall. Josie, I realized, was fantasizing throwing herself against that wall. I left because I was a little unsure as to whether Josie had made her presence apparent.

  One morning early in May, I called Lynn from my school phone. “Hi,” I said. “My first class starts in ten minutes and I had to make some contact. Josie is really close to the surface, and I’m feeling a little desperate. I’m so afraid of losing control in front of my students.”

  Lynn responded sympathetically, but I suspected that she didn’t really appreciate the depth of my anxiety. “Damn it,” I said, “there are only six more weeks left in the school year. I have to get through the year without the Flock ruining everything for me. Can’t you tell them that that’s only fair?”

  “I know, sweetie, I hear you,” Lynn said.

  But eventually I had to return to my classroom alone. I took a deep breath and faced the kids, worried that Josie might suddenly appear, anxiety-ridden and confused. What would it do to them if they saw a favorite teacher “go crazy” in front of them?

  An hour later, I congratulated myself on having made it through the class without incident. Only four more classes left to teach today. “I can do it,” I said to myself, “I’ve got to.” I turned to watch the next group of kids pile in and noticed Gordon standing in the doorway. “Gordon,” I said with embarrassment and relief, “what are you doing here?”

  “Lynn called and said you were having some trouble,” he explained. “I got a substitute for my classes and thought I’d drop by.”

  I smiled at Gordon’s understatement. It was not easy to get substitute teachers at his inner-city high school, and he had driven more than thirty miles to “drop by.” I smiled at him gratefully and shook my head in amazement.

  “I’ve got a class to teach,” I said.

  “I know,” he replied. “I’ll do whatever is good for you. If you want, I’ll hang out in the back of the classroom so that the whole Flock knows I’m here. Or, if you prefer, I’ll run some errands and come back to see you this afternoon, after you finish with your teaching.”

  “Go!” I said, “I think we’ll be OK now.”

  I got through the rest of the day without worrying about losing control. Gordon had left, but he’d be back at the end of the day. “Why would he do that for me?” I wondered.

  After my last class, Gordon and I sat under a tree in the schoolyard. I marveled aloud at how wonderful he was to have gotten so involved with the Flock, how special a person he was to have “adopted” us.

  “I adopted Lynn’s children,” Gordon said. “Why not one more?” I was silent. “Oh, you didn’t know that?” he said. Gordon had married Lynn some twenty years before, when she was a divorcée, alone with all those children.

  —

  LATER THAT WEEK, LYNN LEFT a session early to pick up her granddaughter, Hilary, from the day-care center. Gordon wa
s in no hurry, so he and I sat on a grassy knoll outside Lynn’s office, enjoying the sunshine.

  “Lynn says that this is all going to end with the Flock integrating and becoming one person, but you know that’s not going to happen,” I said.

  Gordon shrugged noncommittally.

  “No matter how much I get to like the rest of the Flock, I’m going to stay me, Renee, forever. I’m going to stay my own person.”

  Gordon chewed a blade of grass and finally said, “I guess I don’t understand why integration is such an issue.”

  “You don’t understand?” I sputtered and quickly filled him in. “I’m not Rusty, Jo, Josie, or any of the rest. I’m me and want to stay me. I don’t need them! How would you like it if someone told you that you had to merge your being with another person?”

  Unlike Jo, I didn’t have the patience to sit still while Gordon worked his way through a thoughtful explanation. He watched me closely as I trailed off. I stopped, but grinned, knowing that he hadn’t taken offense at my cutting him off. Lynn, too, often jumped in before he finished speaking.

  Gordon waited until he was sure I was done. “I guess I start from a different basis, Renee,” he said. “I’ve never been sure just how separate individuals need to be. I know I’m limited by only having my own thoughts, my own perspective, my own mind. I think that one day humans will evolve to the point where we can all integrate with one another at will. Maybe it will be like putting two heads together for a special project. Maybe it will be a way of bonding with people you feel very close to.

  “If that time were now, I’d happily integrate with you. I’m sure I’d learn much more through Renee-Gordon awareness than I can learn on my own.”

  I didn’t respond. I couldn’t force this man to argue with me about integration when he didn’t even accept “one mind, one body” as a necessary concept. I was disappointed that I couldn’t use this time alone with Gordon to persuade him that we shouldn’t integrate, but I felt special. “Gordon wants to integrate with me,” I thought, assured that he had seen something worthwhile in me, maybe something I hadn’t yet seen in myself.

  That evening, I mulled over Gordon’s words and felt a touch of fear. Was this some sort of subtle seduction? I had been formed, literally, through a sexual act. Every man I had been close to had wanted me sexually. Was Gordon like that?

  I hoped not. That would ruin everything. I knew Lynn could not have tolerated it. If it happened and she didn’t know, I wouldn’t be able to pretend and couldn’t stand the probability that some other personality would tell her. As it was, I was scared that some other personality would share my suspicion with Lynn.

  “Lynn says that she and Gordon love the Flock in a way we’ve never been loved before,” I remembered. “I hope that’s true.”

  I decided it was time that I let Lynn and Gordon know how my feelings about them and about their relationship with the Flock had changed. I was no longer the message-and-delivery person. I was Renee, as much their surrogate daughter as the rest.

  On Mother’s Day, I supplemented Missy’s inevitable homemade card with a small gold unicorn for Lynn to put on the delicate chain she wore around her neck. The unicorn had become a significant symbol since Isis had early in therapy presented Lynn with a print of a medieval tapestry depicting a unicorn fenced and leashed by a gentle maiden. My gift to Lynn was chosen so that she’d know I was part of the special relationship she shared with the Flock.

  She accepted my gift with hugs and smiles while Gordon watched.

  “Can I be part of the family too?” I asked.

  With that, Gordon joined our embrace. Lynn laughed. “Don’t you know how important you are?” she asked. “Where would the Flock be, where would our family be without you, Renee?”

  I guess I did know. Just like Jo, I finally did belong. Just like Jo, I needed to hear that said.

  —

  ANY PERSONALITY WHO WAS in crisis had priority in the time with Lynn and Gordon, but I now no longer felt guilty about the time I took. I had as much right to be with them as the others.

  “I’ve been thinking about teaching summer school,” I told them one day soon after Mother’s Day. “Any extra money I earn will come in handy at Harvard.”

  “I know you need the money,” Gordon said, “but, if you teach, that might interfere with our trips.”

  “Our trips?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Lynn said, “we thought we’d spend some weekends up at the cottage this summer. That would give us long, uninterrupted time for Flock-work.”

  I quickly gave up the idea of teaching summer school. I had seen pictures of Gordon and Lynn’s lakeside cottage, nestled on fifteen acres near Kenosha, Wisconsin. I wanted to go with them, wanted days when the Flock could be free, days when we all could soak up our new parents’ nurturing.

  My anxiety about Steve’s return lessened once I knew about the upcoming weekends at the cottage. The Flock had changed significantly in the months Steve had been away. He was going to need to accept our changes and the changes in our relationship with Gordon and Lynn. I might even be able to tolerate Steve’s disapproval if I knew that special time with Gordon and Lynn could continue.

  DIARY    June 5, 1983

  Isn’t it interesting that Renee, who has always perceived herself as the “healthy” one, is the one who has made the clearest strides toward health over the last couple of months? Despite the body’s chronological age and despite Renee’s claim to be nineteen or twenty years old, she really is a delightful (though sometimes exasperating) young adolescent. She now moves between the role of “mother’s helper” in dealing with the rest of the Flock and the role of my daughter, with all of the predictable associated conflicts.

  I’ve known for months that Renee was envious of the closeness that Jo and Missy were developing with Gordon and me, and I wondered how she’d handle it. Female closeness had always been dangerous for this personality; male closeness had always meant sex.

  Gordon and I watched during the spring as she grew from a personality who distanced herself from the other personalities to one who sought our approval for her good work. Renee would tell us about some gain that the Jo personality had made and then add, “Isn’t it good that I’m giving her time to do that?” We gave Renee continual positive reinforcement, but it was clear to us, if not to her, that this wasn’t enough.

  Renee needed to know that we’d respond to her, and we waited, knowing that an opportunity would present itself. As with most things in this therapeutic-reparenting relationship, it was pure luck that Renee called me from school frantic and raw on a morning when Gordon could take the day off to respond in ways she hadn’t imagined. His surprise visit told her clearly that we heard her need and would respond as surely as we responded to the rest of the Flock. Mother’s Day gave her a perfect opportunity to tell me what I represented to her.

  The sexual issue has been more difficult, because Renee is still not able to admit her own desires. She responds to men who want her, she says, but denies that she might “go after” someone on her own. So I’ve watched her flirt with Gordon, a man on whom three adopted daughters have checked to see whether Daddy could assure them that they were attractive without taking them up on their subconscious offers.

  The subtlety of her seduction is amazing. She’s intense, virtually vibrating with passion, and simultaneously whimsical and needy. Gordon says that she touches every conventional male nerve in her call to “take me.”

  I like Gordon’s approach of refusing to acknowledge Renee’s sexuality while seeking to bond with her on every other level. He will be her father, her friend, her cosmic intimate, and she’s discovering through experience that he will not be her lover. Best of all, this is happening without Renee’s being forced to acknowledge the sexual urges that would now humiliate and frighten her.

  I don’t mean to imply it’s all been easy. Renee is a delightful daughter, going shopping and taking walks with me, giggling with me over shared secrets, mod
eling herself after me, but she’s also volatile and just one part of a very troubled entity. Sometimes, when she rages at me that she “knew all along that I didn’t really care,” I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her that she’s an ungrateful little bitch. Instead, I remember that this is an expression of an incredibly complex combination of ignored needs. I calmly remind her of the many hours Gordon and I spend with her and with the Flock and tell her that needing some time to myself is not a rejection of her.

  This is all a great gamble on Gordon’s and my part. The stakes are very high for us and for the Flock. Steve returns this week, and we have three months before the Flock goes away to Harvard (I’ve now convinced myself that she is actually going off to school). Weekends at the cottage will give us time to work through pathology and make everyone feel secure in my caring. This summer will have to be spent both trying to satisfy their seemingly endless thirst for parenting and helping them let go of us so that they can begin to meet some of those needs internally. I have come to believe that concentrated time, when it’s needed—freely given and with a special purpose—can accomplish goals that even years of traditional treatment sometimes cannot.

  24.

  DIARY    June 10, 1983

  Harvard and Steve. These are what I worry about when I’m not worrying about whether or not Gordon and I have gotten ourselves in too deep.

  I wasn’t really surprised when Renee submitted an application to Harvard. Both Renee’s need to run from me and Jo’s need to prove herself to Steve were very strong last winter, when they applied. I also wasn’t surprised that the Flock was accepted. Despite all of their denials, this entity is very bright, very creative, certainly Ivy League material.

  I honestly didn’t think that Renee intended to go until April, when she made arrangements to quit her job. The Flock spends up to twenty hours a week with Gordon and me. Even with Steve returning, the relationship they share with Gordon and me is clearly what’s most important to the Flock. I couldn’t then and still can’t understand how Renee thinks that they can ever function so far from home.