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Dear Bel,
I have a problem that is affecting me deeply and I don’t know what to do.
My daughter is away at university, far from home. One Saturday last year she called me and during the conversation I asked her, “Are you going out partying tonight?” She told me that she never goes to student parties.
But last month we were moving her into the shared house for the next term. While I was cleaning out her closet, I saw her trying to hide a rather sexy piece of clothing. When I asked her about it, she told me she wore it to parties. So she had lied to me about parties and clearly dresses to have a good time.
Since I discovered this deception, I have been having trouble eating and sleeping, and I wonder what else he has been lying about?
She has a history of being tight-lipped about what she’s been up to, and I once caught her texting guys to come over to the house at midnight. How many times has she told us she’s studying for a test when she’s already dressed and ready to go out partying?
She’s already said that she won’t be coming home much next year, because the second year is very intense… I don’t believe that at all. She’s going to move into a shared house with seven other girls and I don’t think she’ll be coming home much, because Friday and Saturday nights are for going out dancing and who knows what else.
I haven’t told my wife what’s going on in my head, but because worry is affecting my sleep and appetite, she knows something is wrong. She says I’m depressed. I think I’m grieving the loss of a daughter I knew and loved, now replaced by a young woman I no longer recognize.
She has never talked about any experience at university. The dilemma is that since she will be so far away, I can’t do anything about what she did last year and what she will do next year.
Please give me some advice. I don’t know if I should talk to her or just keep quiet and live with it.
NICHOLAS
Bel Mooney responds: August is coming soon and many teenagers are already excited about the next stage in their lives: college.
Meanwhile, many of their parents will be filled with trepidation, knowing what a dangerous world it can be out there, in many ways.
After this email, you sent me a second one, asking me not to publish it because you suspected I was exaggerating. Then, at my request, you gave me permission, and I thank you for that, because many parents find this stage in their daughters’ lives very hard.
While all attention tends (understandably) to focus on the young people going out into the world, their poor parents often discover the truth of that poignant Suzy Bogguss country song: “It’s never easy…letting go.”
Your letter is earnest, sincere, honest and also wrong. Let me share with you a quiet, sad smile. In 1966, my mother cried all the way home after dropping me off at University College London, while my father could only express himself by getting furious (a bit nasty, actually) about my short skirts and black eye makeup.
Fast forward to 1998, when I was helping my own daughter unpack her room at Warwick. I pulled out a hideous, cheap, pink, sparkly, sexy dress she’d never seen before, argued with her about it, and then cried all the way home because my little girl was gone.
Parents, huh? Your daughter didn’t lie to you, she probably thought it was best, for your sake, that you didn’t know she was going to be partying that night. She probably also decided that it wasn’t dad’s business. And of course, she was right on both counts.
When I read your email, I said out loud, “Wow, sir, you’re getting it all wrong!”
It’s normal to feel a sense of loss, but you’re just getting too worked up about this rite of passage. It’s quite natural and normal for any parent to worry about their child’s well-being when they leave home, but not to think that they can continue to control their child’s life.
You’ve been honest with me, but there’s no reason for you to be that honest with your daughter. There’s no need to talk to her about sexy clothes, clubbing, boys, etc. No, no, no. It will sound bad and make you look jealous. It’s not good at all.
Yes, you can remind him to be very, very careful about accepting drinks in clubs and to make a pact with his friends to never separate.
But sensible warnings should be given in the same tone of voice you use to suggest that he is never late with his chores.
If you become a sullen, pessimistic nag instead of a loving parent who wants her to enjoy college, then you can be sure she won’t want to come home, let alone confess anything.
Teenagers, you know? We worry about them so much, and then, believe me, they get to their 20s or 30s and we still worry about them, and then it just keeps going on like that.
We love them with all their flaws, but many times we wish they would change too, because our children (and adults too) can be a pain and hurt/disappoint us.
Family life is always complicated, and so (listen to someone who has been through it all) you simply have to find a way to cope with your own rite of passage. You need sleep, so talk to your GP and be honest with your wife.
The important thing is to realize that you still love your daughter very much (it’s not a “used to”!), but you have no choice but to let her go.
I feel so guilty about my married lover.
I’m having an affair with a married man and I know it’s wrong but I’ve fallen in love with him… he says he loves me and that he’ll leave his wife when his parents pass away.
Now, as they are over 90 years old, their wife helps them with their care.
I go from wanting to be with him to trying not to be with him. Obviously, I feel guilty about his wife… and then there is the problem of my four children…
I am a widow (my wonderful husband passed away 14 years ago at age 50) and my children would not accept the situation I am in. I know this for certain.
Do I put myself first or do I do the right thing? I’d value your opinion.
Angela
Bel answers: Although I have added a few words (for clarification), this remains the shortest and simplest letter I have ever received on such a distressingly complicated subject that has caused untold pain, conflict, anger, guilt and deep sorrow for centuries.
Believe me, I know what I’m talking about, from personal experience, from the pain and anger recently suffered by people I know well, and (of course) from the years I’ve been writing this column. These stories always involve a lot of tears, and pain is, I believe, the essence of the human condition.
To cut to the chase, I am now haunted by the vision of a mature married woman, who after years of helping her husband lovingly care for his nonagenarian parents, is dumped by him for his secret lover as soon as the old folks are in the grave. Doesn’t sound very pleasant, does it? No, and that’s because it isn’t.
Don’t think I’m writing this to make you feel any guiltier than you already do. The only reason I can think of for you to mention your four adult children is that you just have to imagine how they would judge your affair to make yourself feel even guiltier.
Shame is useful. It can prevent us from becoming our worst selves, even when we are on the brink of failure.
But – and let’s leave his wife and his own family out of this – surely the question we must ask ourselves at this stage is whether continuing this relationship is likely to make him happy.
You know what it’s like to live a happy marriage (with that “wonderful husband”) and you now understand the thrill of a forbidden relationship, but I wonder if the former can give you any insight into the meaning of the latter. You’ve “fallen in love” with a man who constantly lies to his wife while taking advantage of her kindness. Is this someone you’d call “wonderful”? Think about that.
Married men who are unfaithful to their wives have a habit of promising their needy lovers that they will leave them when this or that happens in a promising future.
It’s a neat ruse, one that works time and time again as the poor husbands carry on with their domestic lives in ignorance and the deluded lovers spend another weekend or Christmas feeling sad and alone.
These aren’t necessarily “bad men”; they’re just fallible humans who want it all and justify their behavior in all sorts of ways, from “My wife doesn’t understand me” to “You’re the first one who makes me feel as happy as I am when you’re with me” to “If only we’d met years ago.”
I think your question, “Do I put myself first or do the right thing?” poses a false alternative. What if I suggested that “doing the right thing” might be the most effective way to “put yourself first”?
By this I mean that if you decide that you no longer wish to collaborate with your lover in cruelly cheating on his wife (and family?), you could be saving yourself a lot of unhappiness in the future: the day when he tells you, with tears in his eyes, that he can’t leave her now because she would be lost without him, especially after all his years of self-sacrifice.
Yes, these stories always involve tears.
Bel answers readers’ questions about emotional and relationship issues every week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 9 Derry Street, London W8 5HY, or email bel.mooney@dailymail.co.uk. Names have been changed to protect identities. Bel reads all letters but regrets that she is unable to correspond in person.
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