Saturday, November 8, 2014

The unknown


I remember an interesting woman who was court-ordered to domestic violence therapy following a physical argument with her fifteen-year-old son. She could not understand why the boy was so stuck in the past: still burned by his parents’ divorce five years earlier. That was the reason, she believed, for the anger now: “I hate you, witch.”

The woman identified herself as “a motherly person,” raising this child and recently, two stepchildren. But here the mix-up begins. By “motherly,” she meant toward her ex-husband, whom she had “coddled” because he was “more child than man.” But she implicitly extended the attribution of motherliness to her whole character. And how was her husband childish?  He didn’t know how to “pamper” her.

What did this woman – maternal envoy with breasts and baroque tattoos exposed – know about herself? Almost nothing. It’s probably not unfair to say she didn’t know what motherly meant. She didn’t know what pampering meant to her. She didn’t know her complex feelings beneath their simple labels, or that she had never seen her son without the filter of agenda. She may not have understood the experience of love. She didn’t see her painful angry twisted backbone or her killed empathy from childhood and their effect on everything.

My summary, from two decades of clinical practice, is that many people don’t know themselves at all, so profoundly that one could say they don’t even know what know means. They do not know that certain questions exist – fundamental questions of a viable childhood and the existence of self – and therefore that they ride the waves of their life above certain answers: above sharks with mouths agape. Their sense of themselves is attitude, not observation. And if they do observe, even down through the floorboards to infancy, a self-preserving handle of anesthesia or positivity remains to cling to, protecting them from the worst revelations.

Self-knowledge can be insanity, as Modrow described in How to Become a Schizophrenic.* Carl Jung, I once read, turned away a prospective client when he presented an introductory dream. Jung found in it a dormant psychosis that would awaken were the man to deeply see himself. I have glanced at skeletons of my nature that would be overwhelming were it not for the dysthymia that muffles them.

All this may seem inessential except that psychotherapy is tied to self-awareness. How, in hell, do we know how far to go in its uncovering? Is our aim in some way a complete self-contradiction, a continuum of enlightenment from painful flame to conflagration; from revisited mourning to hopelessness about our parents, to feeling the void of love, to the grip of false self and never-born? These are questions that always lie beneath my work, always, even in the happiest or most casual moments. I am sure I will never find the answers.

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Sunday, November 2, 2014

Positive affirmations


I wanted to do a little thinking about positive affirmations, here. This is very open-minded of me, who came out of Ayn Rand’s contemptuous dogmatic philosophy (only itself knowing the good, only its adherents being the good), then Janov’s Primal Therapy which sees psychotherapy in a fundamentalist way: itself all right, the rest all wrong. Primal purity would view affirmations as the attempt to brainwash oneself, to massage the leaves of the psyche and leave the roots unhealed.

Actually, I still believe this from a purist perspective. Emotional pain really cannot be thought away. Negative thoughts, contrary to cognitive therapy’s principle, may not be only irrational: They are integrated into a holistic process where they are the right defense against deeper pain, in the way that (toxic) cigarettes are the right defense against entrenched tension, or self-mutilation is "good pain" to an alienated girl. Therefore they have right and power on their side against the wispy hopefulness of positive sayings.

The primal perspective, though, is not enough. What if to get better we must not only find and uproot radical pain (birth or childhood trauma*), but also find and cleave to the goodness potential of our birthright? And what if it remains impossible – as it always must – to eliminate the somato-emotional pain embedded in every molecule, or to evaporate the entire mental self that has grown from it, that stands upon our roots of time which can never be collapsed to nothing? Then we’ll be required to counter this pain and this constructed self with something.

It would be nice if this “something” were not a defense mechanism or self-medication but the truth, or at least a wand that stirs our pond and frees up the truth at the bottom.

If in the face of transient and permanent disappointments and my flaws, I tell myself that life is good, that “the universal spirit guides and protects me at every step in my life,” or “I am confident,” or “I have faith in myself”**; “I approve of myself,” “I enjoy life,” I am revealing and energizing not a simple surface truth or a lie to be believed but a symbolic truth, a living parable. The symbol attaches to what should be, what deserves to be. And the oath attaches to the better part of me, my past childhood self that has been bent by many experiences, defenses and time. Picture yourself, if you are depressed or anxious, as both luminous and dark places, both heavier and lighter places of one ocean, except that the luminous and heavier places are your deeper core of love and goodness that God or nature made you. You live in the upper parts and on the surface – burnt, wind-blown, lost – and of course it’s from there that you see the horizon. But you are the ocean, and the phosphorescence at your depths can still be seen, appreciated. It can still lighten you.

I don’t believe in the validity of self-mesmerization, repeating lines over and over ’til you are changed by them. This is simple: Your body, still in pain, can’t believe them. When clients apply the anesthetic of comparing their lives to others’ worse conditions, I’ll sometimes say: If you have a knife embedded in your arm and the blood is flowing, if won’t help you to say, ‘Yes, but look at all the people who have it worse!’ And if you repeat it a hundred times? I believe you will continue to bleed internally.

One phrase, occasionally said, that shines your true light beneath everything that’s happened, gets you to look beneath. I remember the drawing a little boy made in play therapy. It was Gestalt child therapist Violet Oaklander’s ‘Small Boat in a Big Storm.’***  The client is asked to imagine he is the boat, and to draw how he would fare amidst the howling wind, lightning, pouring rain and giant waves. The youngster’s self-boat had broken into a few pieces that were lying on the sea floor. Next to them was an open treasure chest, full of gold. Not remembering his meaning so many years ago, I’ll take it to be the source of our affirmation: Deep down, there is still goodness and light. Say it, notice it, let it touch you.


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* I believe that in The Primal Scream, Janov rightly states that “trauma” is ‘being left with the babysitter for the fiftieth time’ (possibly an inexact remembrance).

** From David McGraw’s affirmation audio at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lkCrPjmwks.

*** Evocative drawing exercise is from Oaklander’s book, Windows to Our Children – A Gestalt Therapy Approach to Children and Adolescents, Violet Oaklander, PhD.  1978, 2007, etc.  http://www.amazon.com/Windows-Our-Children-Approach-Adolescents/dp/0939266067#reader_0939266067.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Intervention tidbit #3: Borderline eggshells and land mines


A client is probably about to marry a woman with Borderline Personality Disorder, Persecutory-Type.*  I cannot yet tell if deep within him he actually wants to, or if in the majority he is depressively terrified to lose this lifeline dependency, or if he is little-boy scared to say “no” to the Master.  I suspect all three.

The diagnosis is an educated guess at this point, as I have not seen the woman but have only heard the man’s detailed, anguished accounts of her behaviors over the course of a dozen sessions.  Based on these it is obvious that we are looking at a seamless personality, a mindset, that justifies violence, prisoner-of-war-type monitoring and ownership-level control, regardless of whether her mood is rosy or hellish, if she is idealizing him or devaluing him.

I am not optimistic.  He has asked my opinion and assessment any number of times and I have told him.  It seems not to be what he wants to hear.  I have had to look at him and say – “I can’t help you bend over and stand up at the same time.”  I have actually said a hundred different things from bleak to hopeful, theoretical to practical.  She will need to go into her own therapy.  I wondered to him if we were wrong to talk so much about Borderline and, through him, convey the conjectural diagnosis to her: Maybe she wouldn’t have angrily resisted it had she found it herself, or heard it from a therapist who broached the subject in a nice, delicate way.

The most recent intervention, though extremely simple, may be the strongest, the most cleansing of his battered sickened mind.  The suggestion was to give her his own rendition of this:

“We all have problems, personalities.  Mine is difficult, yours is difficult.  There is no ‘one’ Borderline Personality.  Maybe you qualify for the generic idea of it.  But you are the person I love – that’s the person, or ‘personality’ that I don’t want to change.  But I will not tolerate certain behaviors.  You will not hit me, scratch me, shove me, nothing at all.  You will not try to control me, give me ultimatums, demand to know who I talked to at work.  There will be no unfairness such that you can buy something but I can’t, we go where you want but not where I want, you can do something hurtful now because I had an indiscretion in the past, before we began dating.  And when I hear this kind of blatant irrationality from you that makes no sense in the real world, I will shoot it down and will not watch it get up again.
“For my part, I will continue to be a good person.  But I will be standing up, not bending over.
“Have a nice day.”
The book Stop Walking On Eggshells advises the family member of a Borderline to save himself, guard his self-esteem, help the sick person, “stop taking the Borderline’s actions personally,”  “detach with love,” not “delay your own happiness,” face one’s “issues about being needed,” and more.  I’m sure this information will be helpful to some partners, but it misses essentials.  Howard I. Weinberg, PhD, is quoted: “If you care about someone with BPD, remember that you did not choose the borderline because you are sick.  You chose this person because they were important to you.”**  This is an incompetent and dishonest statement: Psychotherapists should know it is our unhealth that is attracted to unhealthy people: Only a wounded person will be drawn to the persona of a Borderline, a persona informed by underlying severe childhood abort and dysfunction.  Only a sick person will stay with one.  And though I may have missed it in my perusal of the book, I did not see any help for the individual who is yet free and facing the choice and danger of committing to a Borderline.


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* There are no specifiers within the DSM’s description of Borderline.  Christine Lawson poignantly describes the Queen, Waif, Hermit and Witch types (and subtypes), and there may be other writers’ typologies.  It makes sense to perceive that some Borderlines are predominately persecutory, vicious and violent; some more sexualized and without violence; some rageful and self-injurious, etc.

** Paul T. Mason, MS and Randi Kreger, Stop Walking On Eggshells – taking your life back when someone you care about has Borderline Personality Disorder, Second Edition, 2010, New Harbinger Publications, Inc., pp. 96-97. 


Sunday, October 26, 2014

Pessimistic Newton


Early in my counseling career I noticed what may be a psycho-analogue to Newton’s third law – ‘For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’  Though less reliable than physics, it is:

The specific kind of psychic injury a child suffers is the specific kind he feels impelled to suffer upon others later in life.
A man who was humiliated as a child feels right to humiliate his own children or other people.  The patronized girl will someday condescend to those who strike her as inferior, or possibly, superior.  The “sarcastrated” child will, as father or coworker, shoot sarcastic darts and believe it’s just humor.  The physically abused boy presents a good, though imaginary, illustration of this process.  Picture a young person in whom a muscular indentation is pounded, progressively, into his chest by an angry father.  At some point the indentation, under great pressure, will feel forced to push itself back out, explosively.  A poisonous splinter is embedded in him: It is that splinter, with that poison, that needs to come out, not a laugh, or passive-aggressive vengeance, or codependent martyrdom, or some soft-spoken grievance.  Individuals who practice such convoluted mis-translations of their true feeling are neurological liars to themselves.

Alice Miller describes one retribution shard of what I believe is a bigger hand grenade:

“Why, indeed, did these parents behave with so little empathy? . . . Why did they both stand there laughing, eating so slowly and showing so little concern about the child’s obvious distress?  They were not unkind or cold parents; the father spoke to his child very tenderly.  Nevertheless, at least at this moment, they displayed a lack of empathy.
“We can only solve this riddle if we manage to see the parents, too, as insecure children – children who have at last found a weaker creature, in comparison with whom they can now feel very strong.  What child has never been laughed at for his fears and been told, ‘You don’t need to be afraid of a thing like that’?  What child will then not feel shamed and despised because he could not assess the danger correctly?  And will that little person not take the next opportunity to pass these feelings on to a still smaller child?  Such experiences come in all shades and varieties.  Common to them all is the sense of strength it gives the adult, who cannot control his or her own fears, to face the weak and helpless child’s fear and be able to control fear in another person.
. . . . “Disregard for those who are smaller and weaker is thus the best defense against a breakthrough of one’s own feelings of helplessness: it is an expression of this split-off weakness.”*
DeMause’s theory of the “poison container” describes a reciprocal dynamic:

“The main psychological mechanism that operates in all child abuse involves using children as what I have termed poison containers – receptacles into which adults project disowned parts of their psyches, so they can control these feelings in another body without danger to themselves.  In good parenting, the child uses the caretaker as a poison container, much as it earlier used the mother’s placenta as a poison container for cleansing its polluted blood.  A good mother reacts with calming actions to the cries of a baby and helps it ‘detoxify’ its dangerous emotions.  But when an immature mother’s baby cries, she cannot stand the screaming, and strikes out at the child.  As one battering mother put it, ‘I have never felt loved all my life.  When the baby was born, I thought he would love me.  When he cried, it meant he didn’t love me.  So I hit him.’  Rather than the child being able to use the parent to detoxify its fears and anger, the parent instead injects his or her bad feelings into the child and uses it to cleanse his or herself of depression and anger.”**
I once read a study that related toddlers’ repellent social personalities to the kind of parenting received.  In daycare, they did not bully other children in common ways but by a peculiar invasive badgering, a persecutory hovering.  One can picture how the parent’s mental smothering and picking and demeaning torture into her child – an unwrapped festering package from her own parents – would come to discolor the child’s innocent and good character.

Is it possible that there is a unique poison, a special hue of hurt breathed by children of a cheating parent, which compels them twenty years later to be unfaithful to their own spouse?  If so, it would have to be discerned in the body-feeling through the Focusing process,*** too complex for emotion words and psychiatric labels.

Regressive psychotherapy offers an explanation for the equal-and-opposite dynamic.  Pain, we know, must be discharged by holistic expression such as crying or raging, twisting and grimacing, doubling-over and “primal screaming” and vomiting and whimpering – whatever the body knows, contains.  Defenses protect the child who can’t express – protect him from others and from himself.  If we conceive each kind of pain having its own chemistry, it makes sense to see that chemical, and only it, lying beneath the defense, whether we send it to another person or change it from lead to fake gold.

I value this Newtonian logic in a client because he or she needs to feel the exact pain and bring it home to its source, its parent.  Sometimes we know this pain only through its revenge: anger or contempt or narcissistic haughtiness toward others, including the therapist.

Casual though it is, this idea may help us understand those who murder in signature ways.  Children who set fires or torture animals; the beheadings; choking or smothering (the BTK strangler).  We might go deeper inside the equation that a killer is someone who already feels killed, dead or un-alive,**** to the particular chemistry of his deadness.  What happened in Dennis Rader’s childhood that was answered by watching a child or adult failing to breathe?  What inner death might a future terrorist feel –

“It is not surprising that these mutilated, battered women make less than ideal mothers, reinflicting their own miseries upon their children.  Visitors to families throughout fundamentalist Muslim societies report on the ‘slapping, striking, whipping and thrashing’ of children, with constant shaming and humiliation, often being told by their mothers that they are ‘cowards’ if they don’t hit others.  Physical abuse of children is continuous. . . .”*****
– that lets him desecrate the temple of a man’s mind and soul?



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* Alice Miller, The Drama of the Gifted Child, revised edition 1997, Basic Books.  Part 3, “The Vicious Circle of Contempt,” pp. 71-72.

** Lloyd deMause at psychohistory website.  Article, “The History of Child Abuse” at http://psychohistory.com/articles/the-history-of-child-abuse/.

*** See Eugene Gendlin, PhD’s books on Focusing, plus the website and youtube videos.

**** Search references to James Gilligan, M.D., maximum security prison psychiatrist and Shengold’s concept of “soul murder” in this blog’s posts.

***** deMause’s chapter, “The Childhood Origins of Terrorism” at http://psychohistory.com/books/the-emotional-life-of-nations/chapter-3-the-childhood-origins-of-terrorism/.