Self-Defeating Behavior and the Path to Loneliness

What price would you pay to be extraordinary?

I will tell you a story of one young woman who paid that price and then some.

She offered an example of how we sometimes defend our self-image at the cost of our happiness.

She was a patient of another psychologist; I filled in for her treatment needs for more than a decade whenever he was on vacation.

Gloria (not her real name) had a tragic early life. Victimized by her parents’ verbal and physical abuse and neglect, she became an easy target for schoolmates.

This woman was unfortunate to be born with below-average intelligence. Her movements lacked grace, and her facial features were unattractive. But Gloria could be sweet and engaging, able to approach strangers and make conversation no matter her long history of rejection.

Even with multiple disadvantages and misfortunes, Gloria, by the time of middle age, might have had a pleasing social life except for one thing: she believed herself to be the world’s unluckiest person, the record holder for having suffered the greatest misfortune in the planet’s present and past.

Moreover, she felt compelled to recount her tale of woe to those she met—too much and too soon.

The outcome was predictable. They shied away from her, rejecting her once more, and adding to her claim as the most ill-treated human in recorded history.

I am not exaggerating here; I once asked her to compare herself to various martyrs and sufferers of tragedy. The list included those who had been tortured, casualties of natural disasters, concentration camp victims, Jesus on the cross, and those plagued with disfiguring and painful illnesses.

My sometimes-client assured me her lot in life was far worse than any of them. Justice therefore required strangers to provide the understanding, sympathy, and support she lacked.

Gloria pursued comfort and affection with a vengeance, insisting on what she asserted was her due. Her sense of entitlement, her demand that humanity should and must deliver it, drove people away as she strove for the love she had never had.

This woman’s therapist explained to her the self-defeating nature of this strategy, and the need first to establish relationships based on something beyond the other’s willingness to listen to her sadness and anger.

His patient didn’t accept it. The world and the rest of the human race owed her devotion (so she presumed); the sooner, the better, and it was only fair to expect them to deliver what she wanted.

Gloria understood that people might lack patience or interest in accepting her premature self-disclosure. As a consequence, you might well ask, why did she repeat the same behavior with the same bad results? Why not try something different?

After much reflection, here is the best answer I can offer.

First, Gloria’s desperation, neediness, and hunger for affection made it impossible for her to restrain herself from lunging at the thing she desired. More importantly, the one thing the client valued above everything else was her self-appointed status as The Most Unfortunate Person in World History.

Now, you might say that you wouldn’t want that particular title, but think about it.

I suspect that designation gave Gloria the only form of distinction possible in her life.

Without it, she became no more than a sad, angry, lonely, unattractive, unaccomplished, anonymous person. With it, however, this individual enlarged herself into someone exceptional, who stood out from the crowd, a noteworthy presence, the most remarkable one in eight billion souls.

The nourishment she received from licking the wounds attendant upon this awful position in life provided her with some solace.

Gloria, I imagine, if she is alive today, would deny my explanation of her misguided conduct, and I cannot promise it is accurate.

Let me ask you this:

Have you encountered acquaintances, friends, or relatives who persist in undermining their own happiness, regardless of the advice, therapy, or wise counsel offered by others?

Have you sometimes wondered why they do so?

Often the answer isn’t “logical” in that it doesn’t “make sense” from an intellectual standpoint. It might be emotionally convincing, however, as I believe it was for Gloria.

If, deep inside, she didn’t think the life she wanted was within reach, her actions suggested that she had found a method, however troublesome, to give herself the internal recognition it wouldn’t otherwise supply.

Gloria was dealt a bad hand in life. Her response to that deal of the cards is instructive. She chose a dreadful fantasy, a story about herself that compensated her for her adversity, even as it fueled her continued loneliness.

Perhaps, on balance, her invention of a notable identity compensated her enough for all the rest.

Was she “crazy?” She certainly was diagnosable, but we all make repeated missteps in life.

Others in our lives, past and present, deserve some compassion. Maybe even the kind Gloria wanted.

Before you condemn her, consider whether pity might be a better choice.

Gloria would have appreciated that.

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The top image is a Young Queen Elizabeth (1952), charcoal pencil on paper, by Darey popoola. It was sourced from Wikimedia.com

He Who Hesitates is (Sometimes) Lost

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/02/Newtons_cradle_animation_smooth.gif

Fear and hesitation go hand in hand. They hold you back, creating a slow motion to your progress (see above) and sometimes no progress at all. The trick is to separate the two, to recognize that you needn’t wait until you are free of fear in order to act. Indeed, if that were the case, most of the people whom we consider brave would still be waiting for the moment of bold action that earned them the appellation “hero.”

Years ago I heard a panel discussion on the subject of Wagner’s opera cycle The Ring of the Nibelung that actually touched on the issue of courage and decisive action. The experts focused on the character Siegfried, who is described as someone who has never known an instant of fear in his life. Should we therefore consider Siegfried’s fearless behavior to be indicative of heroism and bravery? The panel in question concluded it did not. After all, they reasoned, how can one be a hero without fear to overcome? Only a fool would rush to action without being aware of the attendant dangers. But a brave and courageous man would know the perils facing him and choose to act in any case.

Most of us won’t face dragons or fire, of course, but we still will all have numerous chances to act decisively or to hold back. Here is a trivial, but instructive example from my own life. In college, I was fulfilling a PE requirement by taking fencing. Now, I wasn’t a very good fencer, despite being a reasonably good athlete. And, my heavy academic course load didn’t permit me the luxury of spending time outside of class to practice fencing. Thus, in the first seven matches I had against my classmates, I won only three, a pretty mediocre showing.

Nonetheless, I was competitive enough to want to win more often, so I reasoned that there just might be a way that wouldn’t take time away from my other studies. I realized that I was a relatively tentative fencer, and so I decided to become more aggressive. I set myself the task of getting in the first “touch” as soon as each new match began. The strategy worked. Of the next 17 matches, I won 14. I was almost always able to get a 1 to 0 lead within a few seconds of the start of the competition by catching my adversaries off-guard. Yet, despite my new found success, I was really no better at fencing than I’d been when my record was three wins and four losses. I was simply less hesitant, more aggressive.

I once had a biology professor named Hudson who conducted the “Quiz” portion of his classes in a way to encourage behavior similar to my fencing experience. You were graded on the number of questions you answered correctly and lost points if you answered the interrogatories wrong. Hudson asked the questions aloud and it was a race to get your hand up first and have him call on you to answer. Naturally, you had to make a quick decision as to whether you had the right answer. Very fast indeed. Those who hesitated were, as the saying goes, “lost.”

But how does this all apply to daily life, the life outside of the university. You might say that “normal” life is less competitive than my examples suggest, but is it? To answer that question, ask yourself how often you hesitate to do things, take chances, give public voice to concerns that might engender disapproval, avoid tasks that are difficult or challenging? Do you ask out the beautiful woman, or do you wait until you feel “ready,” only to watch someone else beat your time in getting her attention? Do you, at least sometimes, see a crisis as an opportunity? Or do you hold back, put things off, wait and hope that another or better time for action will come? Sometimes it will, but sometimes it won’t.

If your “default” strategy, your habitual tendency, is to wait, you have a similar problem to those whose standard operating procedure is to act impulsively, without thinking. It may be the case that “fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” but it is also true that you are an equal fool if you forever hold back, hesitate, and watch the moment pass or see someone else “seize the day (carpe diem).”

What I am talking about is fear and the uncertainty that fuels it. When we are fearful and decide not to take action, most of us feel an immediate sense of relief. That relief reinforces our hesitation, while simultaneously depriving us of the opportunity to succeed in the endeavor. Soon enough the relief will pass, but not the self-doubt and lack of personal esteem and confidence that might have been won by an effective action.

The danger in allowing too many chances to pass by is a life of “quiet desperation,” a life on the sidelines, watching others play the game, but not playing it ourselves. And, at the end of life, regret for the opportunities passed and the chances not taken is more likely to be troubling than the failed efforts made. Beware the heartache of the words “what if?” True, acting boldly often fails; but, it also sometimes succeeds.

No wonder, then, that musicians spend relatively little time passively listening to music. They are too busy making it.

Make music of your life, then. Let the trumpet announce (or remind) the world of your presence. Sing your song. And if you cannot, find a therapist who will give you the tools to beat back your fear and help encourage you.

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The above image is an Animation of Newton’s Cradle created on August 8, 2006 by Demon Deluxe and sourced from Wikimedia Commons.