Being Meryl Streep: Learning to Distinguish Behavior from Identity
By Ronald Soderquist
Debbie, who's in her fifties, called: "I'm so upset about my relationship with my daughter. She and I are always in conflict, and my husband agrees this needs to be changed."
When she came in, she reported feeling sad because she couldn't enjoy visiting her daughter, an only child who lives nearby. "It's such a noisy household. The children scream and squabble; there are two of them under the age of 6. I wish my daughter would be more organized and keep them quiet, so I could enjoy being there. I get so tense, I have to leave her home in the middle of a visit."
I didn't have a clear strategy, so I asked her to bring her daughter, Emmy, next time. Then the dynamics became clear. Emmy is a high-energy, outgoing, modern, in-your-face 35-year-old woman. Mother Debbie is quiet, somewhat distant, a loner, who needs her space. I was reminded of the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Mom is a lot like the uptight couple who come into the vibrant Greek gathering.
During the hour with Mom and daughter, it became clear that Emmy wanted her mother to change and just enjoy her high-energy household. "Why can't you be like other grandmothers, and just come in and enjoy the family?" And Mom wanted Emmy to change. "Why can't you be more organized and quiet, so I can be comfortable with you? I can't stand all that commotion."
First, I tried some conventional strategies, like helping them listen nonjudgmentally to each other, but there was no movement in their relationship. I didn't see any point in seeing them together again, so I asked Debbie to come in alone.
Again, she told me, "It just isn't me to be like other grandmothers who get on the floor and play with the children and enjoy all the noise. And I like me the way I am. She's asking me to be someone I'm not."
I assured her: "You're fine just as you are, and Emmy is fine the way she is. You just happen to be very different personalities. She's AM, and you're FM: she's rock-and-roll, and you're chamber music." She agreed.
"Fortunately, there's a solution. I'm thinking about Meryl Streep, and how she takes on a different personality for every role, but off-stage, she's still Meryl Streep: she doesn't have to change who she is. I wonder if you'd enjoy inventing a role that works well when you're with Emmy and her family? (Here, I slowed to my hypnotic voice and watched her slip into a trance.) When you open the door to her home, you can see it like a stage. You pause at the door, view the scattered toys, and listen to the active children as part of a stage set. You may find it amusing. You're Meryl Streep slipping into a role. Your creative inner mind will be alongside your conscious mind, enjoying the flow as you engage with your daughter and your grandchildren in fun ways, and every time you enter that stage, that family stage, you'll find yourself expanding into your new role in satisfying ways, sometimes surprising yourself, always enjoying your secret strategy. It's OK to let your husband in on it. Afterward, you and your husband may chuckle about the relaxed grandmother character you've created. You're both director and actor on this stage. Really enjoy surprising them."
She came out of her trance and exclaimed: "I can do that!" After some additional mental rehearsal, she left in a very good mood. Three days later, my phone rang: "This is Meryl Streep calling. I just earned an Oscar. I spent a whole day with Emmy and her family, and at the end of the day, my husband asked Emmy, "How did your mother do today?" Emmy said: "She did great!"
It was their first pleasant, relaxed day together in many years, a day without tension and conflict. I asked Debbie what she found interesting while playing her new role. She replied, "I felt so calm--very different--calm and comfortable." ;
A well-deserved Oscar!
A few weeks later, she called to say, "I'm so excited and happy because I entertained my entire high-stress clan, and did my Streep thing, and enjoyed myself!"
A couple of months later, she said, "I'm so glad I did it. Strangely, now I feel more motherly and understanding toward my daughter than ever."