And how has this conversation helped you?

My daughter called the other morning, breathless with excitement over a brain-awakening treatment she'd just had. She had prepared me for her call by asking me to read about this New Age treatment. A promise that you can teach the parts of your brain to speak to each other and overcome chronic pain and depression would be greeted with skepticism by many, but ever since my daughter was a toddler, I've been telling doctors, and anyone who would listen, "There's something wrong with her brain!" I am very receptive to such treatment. (More background: When I was a young mother, I eased my children's pain from childhood illness by smoothing their auras. I recently treated a bout of flu with homeopathic remedies and recovered quickly. I do not discount Western medicine, but I turn first to alternative treatments.)

I noted in her baby book that G- was born screaming, and still today she erupts in violent fits of anger that are seemingly unprovoked and most certainly out of her control. When the brain practitioner, without any previous conversation, used her technology to identify my daughter's issues accurately, my daughter was sold and signed up for an intensive week of treatment.

The brain guru also told G- she had black and white thinking, incapable of seeing the gray areas we all operate in. We, her family, have been aware of that thinking for years so it was no surprise that she had made an appointment with a naturopath for the same day--let's get everything fixed now!--and it was no surprise that she called after that appointment to say she was anxious and uncertain. She also was determined to quit all her medications at once cold turkey, when in the morning she was entertaining the idea of reduced dosages.

Time for a coaching conversation. Could I steer her toward a balanced path by letting her do all the thinking? Could I take the training I have received for working with teachers and apply it to a conversation with someone I love dearly? After all, the results of an attempted conversation with my husband were fodder for comedy. But I rephrased her statements and gave them back to her, accompanied by questions designed to push her toward success. And as we spoke, I sensed the tension lift from her. She decided on some small steps.

And even though I thought it might feel a little stilted and awkward to ask the closing coaching question, I asked anyway. "How has this conversation helped you?" I had never dared to ask before, never dared to believe that anything I said could possibly have helped, but I think she was smiling broadly when she replied, "Oh, Mom, it's helped a lot. I love you."

I love you too, Dear Daughter.