I’ve recently
looked up synonyms for “valiant.”
Indomitable, plucky, gritty, doughty, undaunted. These are qualities that have never been mine
except as they apply in one unusual arena.
When I have a physical ache or pain – back, chest, headache – I get
angry at it, tell it to get the hell out of my life, and give it a good open-handed
whack. My attitude is fierce and fine
and imperious, laughing at danger, transcendent of these pitiful gnats that
imagine some right to cause me harm.
I am a plucky
and doughty man, and for the last couple of decades I have always won the
fights: the pains disappeared quickly and did not return . . . until some new
time and circumstance, much later, would draw them back.
I am the living
proof of holistic, psychosomatic medicine.
What I’m doing is not “mind over matter.” There is no suppression of feeling. In fact it’s the opposite. Confident – from some deep intuitive wisdom – that there is nothing wrong with my back or heart or head, I am safe to experience the fear then the hatred of this unexpected false threat. I feel it resonating with past – childhood-based – injustices and abuses, which I can now conquer as a man can face and conquer his old criminals and bullies and obstacles. I am fine and they are dead.
This may not
be the literal meaning of psychosomatic psychology, an idea that has had
generational incarnations from Freud and “hysteria” to Franz Alexander, to
Reich’s character armor and Lowen’s Bioenergetic Analysis, to Janov’s
“malignant despair” and the entirety of Primal Therapy, to John Sarno, W.
Douglas Brodie and the “cancer personality,” to Rolfing and craniosacral
therapy and Bernie Siegel and Caroline Myss and the New Age. Dr. Sarno** heals back, neck and migratory
pain by teaching people to call the bluff on their physical symptoms:
Dr. Brodie names
these characteristics of the cancer-prone person:
“1.
Being highly conscientious, caring, dutiful, responsible, hard-working, and
usually of above average intelligence.
2. Exhibits a strong tendency toward carrying other people’s burdens and
toward taking on extra obligations, and often ‘worrying for others.’ 3. Having a deep-seated need to make others
happy. Being a ‘people pleaser’ with a
great need for approval. 4. Often
lacking closeness with one or both parents, which sometimes, later in life,
results in lack of closeness with spouse or others who would normally be
close. 5. Harbours long-suppressed toxic
emotions, such as anger, resentment, and / or hostility. The cancer-susceptible individual typically
internalizes such emotions and has great difficulty expressing them. 6. Reacts adversely to stress, and often
becomes unable to cope adequately with such stress. Usually experiences an especially damaging
event about 2 years before the onset of detectable cancer. The patient is not able to cope with this
traumatic event or series of events, which comes as a ‘last straw’ on top of
years of suppressed reactions to stress.
7. Has an inability to resolve deep-seated emotional problems /
conflicts, usually beginning in childhood, often even being unaware of their
presence.***
Roseanne, a
case history in The New Primal Scream,
ended her physical anxiety:
“I
used to be assaulted by terrible anxiety attacks. Since the age of fifteen, I have lived in the
dreaded fear of having a heart attack.
Every time I had the anxiety attacks I would feel panicky, weak, sweaty,
and become pale and sometimes faint.
“There
are no words to describe the loneliness and helplessness I felt in those
moments. I would feel that there was no
hope left for me. I was bound to
suffer. Those attacks became the symbol
of my hopelessness.
“I
don’t have the attacks any more, and the reason is simple. I don’t build up overwhelming stress and
anxiety. If something hurts me now, I
cry or get angry. I react to it and let
it out instead of keeping it in like before.
My chest used to be a pressure cooker.
My unexpressed feelings would create so much pressure in my chest that I
would actually experience the symptoms of a heart attack. All those feelings inside me trying to get
out, pushing against my chest and making me feel ‘I’m going to die . . .
without love.’
“Now
I let the stream out. It has felt so
good to cry about my father – the need for him to talk to me, to touch me, and
help me, all the things I had been deprived of.
Every time I cry about my needs I get more in touch with myself and I
become less tense. It sounds strange,
but the truth is that feeling the pain actually helps me to reduce the stress,
strain, and awful anxiety in my life.”****
The idea that
psyche and body are not merely interconnected, not merely fused, but are
identical has been a part of my therapy for so long that I assume it when
talking with clients. Young men who
double over and throw up instead of go to work or stand up to their fathers are
shown the sources of their anxiety and the regressive dependencies that keep it
locked in. In colorfully apropos
situations I’ll mention Lowen’s observation that Narcissistic
Personality-disordered men’s faces often look much younger than their years:
The vicissitudes of life waft over them owing to their teflon majesty. Women who, for all intents and purposes, get
a splinter in their pinky toe that in a matter of months metastasizes to
full-blown Social Security Disability Income (SSDI) are introduced to
psychosomatic process. I might therapeutically
lie and suggest that their loveless, sexually abused and unstable childhood has
exacerbated the pain of a bona fide medical fibromyalgia, rather than state what’s
more likely: that it birthed the whole psycho-shebang.
Psychotherapy
is often physical. A young woman’s
spirit was released when she kicked the side of my desk: This was the condensed
experience of two decades of mother’s mental abuse being answered. Clients lie back in the chair with eyes
closed, better to simulate the death bed or the childlike sloppy or defenseless
carriage. I have referred men and women
to Krav Maga, the “aggressive” martial arts skill set that might strengthen an
anxious victim character. Talk about rage
and high blood pressure, anxiety and a lump in the throat and crushed chest,
stress and heart disease, leg tremor and OCD as the tension that leaks when a
child holds all her feelings inside in an emotionally censored and embarrassed home
– and people begin to understand.
What does it
mean to say that psyche and soma are one?
Ask pretty much anyone but Descartes and those psychiatrists who believe
a child’s inability to sit still is a brain disorder not a family
disorder. Read Alice Miller’s The Body Never Lies which shows that
conformity to the Fourth Commandment – Honor your parents – can lead to such
deep repression of pain that it can kill.
Ask massage therapists who, touching a client’s shoulder or mid-back,
might unearth a buried spring of memory tears.
We sense that emotions animate the body or are deadened along with the
body. We may have heard our mother – as
I did – predict an eventual cancer, somehow in touch with the breast’s response
to depression and a marriage that “followed the path of least resistance.” Some of us know that nothing can move the
body an inch – into a sunny day, to a walk in the park, to a kitchen sink full
of dishes – not encouragement, not even the will or desire, if meaning is
gone. Meaning is physical. Psyche is soma.
At this
point, it may help to picture the psychosomatic individual as a listing ship
floating out to sea, far from home and berth and upon its own solitary fate. The captain doesn’t know where help is, and
little repairs are made that don’t heal the deeper structure. But he is valiant, and always hopes for
relief and to return home. If he knew
that he’d been set to sea from a poisoned homeland and corrupt berth, he might be
lost forever.
Clients fear the
idea of psychosomatic illness because it turns them into too much energy, like the
explosive fission of uranium. What was
body, a blameless impersonal repository that they inhabit, becomes psyche and its
meaning that they are and must face. And
this carries them to the damaged berth of their childhood, and to their
parents’ faces. They become the pure
energy of pain and revelation. They
become a ship that has never left home.
The disease whose remedies didn’t work
There is a seeming
paradox, I believe, in psychosomatic therapy.
One must transcend the physical symptom by collapsing before the
emotional meaning of it. A young man,
plucky, smiley and formerly anorexic, suffered a digestive disorder that was
not curable by its known remedies and that reduced him to eating only two
foods. He had always identified himself
as a perfectionist and thought it was a good thing. His legendary parents and childhood were
exonerated of all harm. Eventually,
however, they were not. The way the
mind, sending emotional distress into the body and whitewashing its thoughts,
turned, was through the physical emotions that inhabited the same molecules as
the armed guards restricting his food intake.
He realized, by Focusing,***** that the mantra he had always heard and
appreciated – We just want you to try your best – actually meant We don’t care what
you do. His parents’ gentle acceptance
was neglect, indifference. When you can
feel the truth, things change inside.
Pain or fear reduces to tears that wash away tension or flow into caring
hands. Or to anger, that expressed, strengthens
the backbone and girds the stomach. The
body becomes no longer separate, abandoned and sickened. It becomes the healed spirit.
- - - - - - -
- - - -
* Line taken
from the Sarno 20/20 John Stossel episode linked.
** John E.
Sarno, M.D., The Divided Mind: The
Epidemic of Mindbody Disorders, HarperCollins, 2006, p. 135.
**** Arthur
Janov, PhD, The New Primal Scream,
Little, Brown Book Group, 1991, p. 201.
***** Eugene T.
Gendlin, Ph.D., Focusing, A Bernard
Geis Associates Book, Bantam Books, 1978.
“An original, innovative, exciting book.” – Carl Rogers, Ph.D.
Fascinating blog. My pain did not begin until my world collapsed at the revelation of the horrors of my childhood. I have done all the therapy, mental & physical, and still have a broken body. I have delved the abyss and returned, and still I have a broken body. What do you do when the standard answers don't work?
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteI'm sure I'm pretty dumb about psychosomatic process. With that proviso, here are a few considerations. There seems to be a body paradox that could be described as -- The psyche doesn't like it when we half swallow or half throw-up our emotional pain. It wants us to go either all-in or all-out. Cancer support groups reportedly can extend cancer sufferers’ lives – and they are mostly suppressive of emotional pain and anger and encouraging of positive emotions: love, support, camaraderie. However, if Brodie’s “cancer personality” theory is correct, along with Janov’s Primal Therapy, then the opposite of pain suppression – that is, the expulsive release of feeling – is most healing. How can these conflicting views both be right? If we repress pain beneath strength and bond and positivity, we live longer (which I suppose must be somewhat related to “healing”)? And if we release that pain, get emotional justice, we heal and live longer? I don’t know. I’m on the side of releasing pain through abreactive grief, rage, tears, along with knowing the full truth and expressing it. My idea for you – completely theoretical – is that when someone becomes aware of his or her trauma, but can’t DEEPLY exorcise it through long weeping, others’ validation, etc. (see Chapter 15, The New Primal Scream, “The Role of Weeping in Psychotherapy”), the body pain and injury erupt and even worsen. That idea is evidenced in the situation where one client says “I was able to get my anger out – she really listened and accepted what I said – and I feel much better,” while another client says: “I don’t want to start getting angry – it just makes me feel worse.” This second client is expressing his anger but is not really releasing it, which often but not always means giving it to an accepting other. Note the child wisdom, via Aletha Solter: Don’t let your child cry alone if she’s been reprimanded. The tears can’t be the healing kind, can’t be “successful,” because their chemistry is fused with abandonment feelings.
Delete