Another facet of Users, Usees, and the Truth

I was looking over the comments that people made on my recent carpool posts. I had to smile at the 'emperor's-new-clothes' congruency: as I tiptoed cautiously around the term, hesitated to apply it, and even blamed myself for it, the commenters pointed out the obvious: "Users!" I was busy examining the DNA of the feathers (so there'd be no mistake) to confirm that it was, indeed, a duck while you were all calling it what it was: "Duck!"

This realization was further confirmed when I was talking with a social worker friend of mine. Here I thought I'd been having this private experience of angst, and it turns out that it's so widespread there's a name for it. Well, I don't remember the name for it, but it falls into a classification of 'personality disorder'; and, one of the signs that I'm dealing with someone with a personality disorder is that very feeling of revulsion (ick) I was feeling.

It's curious to consider that an internal experience I have in response to another person might be a clue about them.

I suppose what felt icky was the fundamental untruth in regards to the nature of the thing. They were treating their request(s) as if it(they) came from a context of us being equal participants in a reciprocal relationship. For me to accede to their expanding requests meant to lie about what was really going on. To be in alignment with Truth, there would have had to have been a mutual acknowledgment, initiated by them, that they were asking me to put my needs and priorities behind theirs. In the absence of such candor I was being asked in effect to lie.

Now what's interesting to me is the anguish this caused me, faced with the prospect of telling the truth and setting the record straight, or going along with the fiction. What on earth was generating that electrical shock feeling that deterred me from seeing the situation as it was--and in fact feeling as if it was a flaw in me that I would have feelings that were telling me I was being used?

Apparently it's been very important to allow myself to be used, and to suppress any contrary feelings that surfaced as a result. It's actually been nearly second nature, as I look back over my life (through my written record of diaries) and find that I was ashamed when I had feelings objecting to contributing to the smooth running of somebody else's world. I truly thought the feelings meant something unworthy about me. Something would have to be wrong with me for accusing a family of using me when the 'evidence' seemed flimsy. I must be imagining it, or projecting something small in myself onto them. Or I must have invited it, somehow--maybe led them to believe that it was ok to ask...Why was it so much easier to blame myself than assign responsibility to the Other?

At any rate, naming reality was as painful, or maybe even a little more painful, than just doing as I was "asked" (in quotes because the implication was that 'No' was not an acceptable answer). It was excruciating to me to be in a situation where lying feels fundamentally wrong , but telling the truth was in effect an accusation. And one of the ways I coped was to be 'confused' about the truth--how can I say for sure that someone is seeing me only as a means to take care of their needs? How can I know that's true about them? And since chances are if it was true they'd never admit it, I never can know. And if I can't know, shouldn't I give them the benefit of the doubt? Maybe it's my feelings that are wrong.

The other day I came around to a way of looking at it that made confronting the truth less frightening for me--if I need to set boundaries it doesn't have to be a reflection of the other person's worth. And this is why it felt so uncomfortable, 'icky' to me to say no to Benjamin and have him protest that he wasn't 'trying to impose.' It was uncomfortable for me because it seemed like it was unacceptable for me to be seen as a person who was accusing him of imposing. It seemed I was impugning his worth.

Now I see that refusing to go along with a loaded situation that threatens feeling bad/icky as a consequence (punishment, deterrent) of refusal is reality clarification. It is saying, excuse me, but I am not an extension of your will. Furthermore it says, You are behaving as if I am an extension of your will and I beg to differ. I guess there's no other conclusion the 'User' can come to than that he/she has imposed.

And, I. Don't. Care.


Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I understand now

The concept of differentiation has led me to an understanding of the connection between undifferentiation and narcissism.

In psychological terms one who is psychologically undifferentiated is unable to distinguish his/her perspective from somebody else's. People are not separate beings, but Objects. If I am an Object in my husband's world, then I am a part of him, the way a hand is a part of a body. If his conception of me is indistinguishable from his self-concept, and then I differ, it is as shocking and mutinous to him as if his leg suddenly folded under him or his hand allowed a cup of water to drop into his lap.

As I was considering this conceptualization with Sharon she mentioned the possibility that he had suffered some sort of 'narcissistic injury'. I was intrigued enough by the term that I googled it and found a wealth of information. Among the low-lying fruit was this article that I found most useful: "Narcissistic Pathology of Everyday Life: The Denial of Remorse and Gratitude" by Nancy McWilliams, Ph.D and Stanley Lependorf, Ph. D. It's about the mundane ways that narcissistic behavior manifests.

In its most benign manifestation, the narcissist has created a False Self as a defense against perceived vulnerabilities and flaws. Frequently this False Self has some grandiosity. The narcissist then demands that those around him/her serve as a mirror (Object) that reflects only this grandiose self-image back to the narcissist. People around serve to protect the fragile ego of the narcissist.

As a child, to the extent that I participated in reflecting back only what the narcissist wanted to see, I was a "good" child ('good' in the moral sense). My behavior was a barometer of how 'good' a parent my parents were. Misbehavior on my part reflected badly on them, and the heat that released was part of the intensity of the punishment I received.

I can't speak for others' experience, but my childhood seemed to be firmly embedded in a stream of narcissists demanding their False Selves be gratified. I think quasi-religious Americana which is rife with authoritarianism is a breeding ground for this. In a sense this seems to be institutionalized--there are stories all around us of not being able to 'contradict our elders', even when we know our elders are flaming wrong about something. To disagree becomes conflated with disrespect. For myself, I became hypersensitive to the possibility of offending others, so that I had a 'spidey sense' that tingled when I was aware that something I might say could seem to imply criticism of another.

I grew up in a bind. If what I observed contradicted the reflection the narcissistic adults around me demanded, I could not tell the Truth. Yet it was demanded of me that I not tell lies. Furthermore, I was dependent on these people who had absolute power over me. I was also expected to be an independent agent, even while it was demanded that I be a 'good' Object.

Frankly, that is why I wrote. The bind was painful--writing gave me a space where I could be myself and tell the Truth, as well as help me sort out the contradictions. Mainly though it was an expression of my angst--if my thoughts were critical of others I instantly blamed myself and thought there was something wrong with my vision of the world: I was selfish, I was narcissistic. ...Most important of all, I wrote to alleviate my suffering.

Mercurious had a wonderful post summarizing the Buddhist Path. The Second Noble Truth is about the causes of suffering: karma, cause-and-effect. Raised to be a good mirror I attracted a lot of men who were narcissistic. They adored me until my needs asserted themselves and then they left. It seemed perverse, but predictable: if I loved them back they left. It was baffling to me then, but perfectly clear now. It's also clear that though eventually I was able to sidestep that dynamic, I would not see the signs that the man I married was not able to distinguish me from him.

There were signs. He is not particularly grandiose, but his mother's ego has loomed over us. Early on I noticed that he seemed hamstrung by a need to not offend her and that protecting her fragile feelings seemed to take precedence over protecting the integrity of our relationship. I attributed this to some unworthiness in me--that I was childish, possessive, insecure.

So basically the work I've done for all these years has been to get me to here. To this understanding that I was tied up in knots in service to others' False Selves. I understand this now, and I think I'm just starting to grasp the implications of what it might be like to proceed without undercutting my every move by questioning my motives.

I wonder where I'll go from here.