A Trip Into My Past: Brief Thoughts on Negative Male Behavior in Romantic Heterosexual Relationships

I was perusing some of my old notes and documents, and I encountered the following snippet. It's rather cynical, but I stand by it, because A) it's part of where I've come from, intellectually; and B) I think the insight has some validity. Namely, I was attempting to honestly describe what I perceived to be a rather pervasive and destructive pattern of attachment in male-female romantic relationships.

Here it is, in only slightly edited form (as to properly represent where I was 'at' in a rather impassioned moment seven and a half years ago, at age 25):

A reason that men can be so horrible to their female companions is that they weren’t “allowed” to express themselves, or to sound off, if you will, to their peers as they grew up.  The [socially] acceptable manner in which males relate to one another during their adolescent years is dominated by sports talk and participation; neo-gang pack mentality; self-inflation (weight-lifting, braggadocio); and mischief and derision in general.  Men are, in essence, encouraged to channel their turmoil into one of these pack-endorsed pursuits.  When they land a girlfriend, then, they are presented with an altogether new outlet.  If the relationship matures, the man will recognize that the woman has accepted him to some degree for who he is, including all of his foibles and heretofore buried emotions.  The result is that the male will at first sound off to his girlfriend in quick, exhilarating vapor bursts of release.  As he receives positive feedback for this practice, however, he will make it his habit to closely include her in the smallest nuances of his emotional life, eventually growing to depend on her; and he eventually becomes, in essence, addicted to her ear.  The male will proceed to employ an astonishing variety of tactics in order to secure his girlfriend’s ear; he comes to operate under the premise that he even controls her, or that she is his right, his possession.  The original opportunity to grow, of course, has been squandered or missed altogether, and only through conscientious effort and communication can both parties rid themselves of this facet of co-dependence.

I don't usually write in such general, sweeping terms any more, and with good reason. And I spoke from a certain cultural perspective, of course. That and other criticisms notwithstanding, however, I agree with the essence of what I wrote rather hastily during a time of personal flux and transition. 

It's neat to revisit that time of my life -- not the outer circumstance, mind you, but the inner. Psychologically, I was highly interested in origins as my vehicle of understanding human behavior; i.e., I was interested in pathology, or the questions, "where does this behavior come from? how did it start?"  And that makes sense. After all, I was an actor, and part of my creative process entailed a certain reverse engineering from the outside in; furthermore, such methodology was my mode of introspection, and I came to greater degrees of self-knowledge that way.

Anyway, thanks for indulging this little trip of mine. 

CRISIS

Today, I'm going to write about CRISIS.

I don't think it's a stretch to say most of us have experienced crises of some sort. They occur when the proverbial straw breaks the camel's back, or when an unexpected, major event occurs. Either way, when a crisis happens, it changes things -- maybe everything, or close to it -- and it cannot be ignored.

I don't have a ton of insight to share on managing crises; after all, they're each their own unique little bundle of joy (haha). Crises also tend to induce varying degrees of "survival mode" in people, and that, pretty much, is what it is. Crises can be pretty unpleasant, and all those involved do the best they can with them. 

That all being said, when a crisis occurs, the people who have to take action seem to dissociate a little bit, generally speaking, and interestingly enough. In other words, they detach a bit from the emotional impact of the event in order to preserve their decision-making abilities and get things done; and that's a good thing, in my opinion, because after all, in times of crisis, things have to get done.

(Image from Google Image search "git er done"...I couldn't help myself)

I experienced a bit of a family crisis over the weekend. (I'll refrain from sharing details, but thankfully, everyone involved is alive and relatively well.) When the crisis was at its peak, I found myself in an Action Mode state very similar to what I described above. And it was necessary and good, believe me.

What I took note of, though, and what I'd like to underscore here, was the stuff that happened after the crisis -- that is, once the situation had stabilized. 

Generally speaking, the immediate aftermath was, for me, almost equally as dicey as the crisis itself, but in a different sense. My dissociation had faded; but while there was still plenty of business to attend to, I no longer had the luxury of operating with that nice little buffer zone between myself and my emotions. Instead, I suddenly found myself having to manage my tumultuous, intense, and crisis-induced emotional responses along with my need to take care of business. 

Everyone experiences and expresses their emotions differently, especially in times of stress. I did notice, though, that it was tempting to indulge catastrophic thinking. After all, I was worried; my system was flooded with adrenaline; and my brain was teeming with unusual levels of neurotransmitters. In other words, everything in me was ready to FREAK OUT. Hell, everything in me WANTED to freak out. So whenever there was a new development, I felt myself escalating. Minor annoyances became Big Deals; passing, innocuous thoughts were Urgent Matters. 

It was exhausting, and it was unpleasant. After all, I was aware of what was happening with me, and I initially tried to do exactly what I recently warned against: forcefully change my thoughts and feelings. Oy. Mercifully, I soon realized that all I could really do was to breathe, let myself experience whatever came up, and be my own best friend. That helped -- a lot.

So. In the aftermath of a crisis, be extra compassionate and forgiving with yourself. Let yourself experience whatever it is you’re experiencing. Know that you're probably going to think and feel a lot of contradictory things, or things that surprise you, or things you wish you wouldn't. You might even feel yourself regressing, or being pulled into old, unwanted habits of communication and behavior. Whatever the case may be, have patience with yourself, give yourself “space” to exist, and know that “this, too, shall pass.” 

A few closing thoughts. If other people are involved with you in a crisis, know that they’re going through their own versions of the experience, and that they, too, are probably thinking, feeling, saying, and doing things that are unusual, unwelcome, or unfamiliar. Or maybe not. Either way, extend to them the same senses of compassion and forgiveness I described above.

Boxing Jello

When I was younger and having a really hard time, I would try to change the way I felt through sheer, willful force. I would perform mental gymnastics that would make a Russian Olympian jealous in my futile attempts at retooling my savage emotional life. Initially, I didn't realize my efforts were just that -- futile. And now that I've learned the lesson, I've come to think of that process as being akin to punching a giant cube of jello: it might yield at first, but it just coagulates around your fist and reforms after you pull back; and all you, the puncher-in-earnest, are left with is your frustration: the jello remains.

The first step for me was to realize that hey, maybe I should just let myself feel however I happen to feel at any given moment. That, in turn, opened the door to the important realization that negative feelings, even powerful ones such as anger, are not intrinsically bad. I had affixed a lot of meaning to anger in particular; I believed -- very strongly -- it was just that: bad. When you believe something to be bad, you generally try to avoid it; and I had practiced a lifetime of avoiding anger and other negative feelings -- to deleterious effects, as it turned out.

The problem with attempts to outright reject, change, or avoid thoughts and feelings is that it doesn't really work. The harder you push, the harder they push back; your efforts just amplify their force. Avoidance seems to do the trick, because you sort of don't have to experience the feeling for awhile. But instead of going away, the feeling gathers strength, becomes toxic, and forces its way out, one way or the other -- maybe as explosive, uncontrolled rage, or passive-aggressiveness, or drug abuse, or overeating, or under eating, or self-harm, etc.

And that's the tragic thing, folks: when you try to avoid, reject, or otherwise forcefully control your feelings, they gather strength and seize control of you.

So what's a person to do? To be sure, it's an uphill battle, for a couple reasons. The first is that the behavior pattern I described above is complicated, and can be difficult to change; it can take time, effort, and patience. The other reason is that our society reinforces and encourages those behaviors. For example, men are supposed to square their jaw and "lock it up." Traditionally, in many cultures, men aren't supposed to talk about their feelings. They're supposed to be dominant, stoic. And if they fly into the occasional rage, punch a wall, scream at their partner, get into a fight, etc., well, then, boys will be boys, right? Drink a six pack on a Tuesday, and all is right with the world. Women, on the other hand, are supposed to be emotional. As a result of their "emotional dispositions," tradition holds, women are supposed to be irrational, manipulative, passive-aggressive, and have hidden agendas. As long as they're deferential, obsessed with their appearance, modest, into gossip, and really interested in shopping, what's the problem?

My view is that there's a big problem there. These roles, these "supposed to's," destroy people. These roles and rules render behaviors taboo which might otherwise promote clarity, calm, and health. God forbid, right? Not everyone fits into those tidy little buckets. I'd venture to say that, given the problems those roles create, no one actually fits into those tidy little buckets.

Our thoughts and feelings are part of us, but they are not our entire person, any more than our hands, feet, eyes, or nose are our entire person. When we get a head cold, our body lets us know what's happening; we get achy, we get a sore throat, we get tired. These "symptoms" are messages from our body, saying, "Hey! I need you to rest, drink lots of water, and dial it back a notch or two!" Our thoughts and feelings are messengers, too, and they operate in a similar manner. Instead of seeking to change or reject them, it's helpful, in my experience, to get curious about them: "Hey, I'm really sad, and I don't know why. What's that sadness trying to 'tell' me?"

That's it: acceptance, curiosity, and compassion. Have a good day, folks!

Fear

A long time ago, a college professor -- one of the great teachers in my life -- taught me that, to the conscientious observer, Life is the greatest, most constant teacher of all; and with attention, patience, and curiosity, Life teaches all lessons. It was a powerful concept in the classroom, rendered even more so by the fact that I discovered it to be true. There is potential for learning, and for the demonstration of some principle, around every corner.

The other day, I saw a tiny green bug on a counter top. It was on its back, and it was struggling to right itself. I waited a moment to see whether it could achieve its aim by its own power, and when I decided it couldn't, I gave it a little nudge. It worked: the bug was on its feet. But instead of hurriedly crawling or flying off, it stood perfectly still, as if stunned. I was puzzled by this response at first, but I soon realized it was -- anthropomorphizing aside -- frightened by what it perceived to be the gigantic, unpredictable, possibly malevolent force which had, in fact, so drastically altered its situation for the better.

It occurred to me that many of us experience similar fears when faced with life-changing events, or even the consideration thereof. Fear is, of course, an adaptive, healthy response to perceived danger. After all, fear prepares us to get ourselves out of harm's way, which is definitely not a bad thing. What's curious, though, is that our fear responses are often grossly out of proportion to any actual danger that may exist; it's also curious that, oftentimes, that which we perceive to be a terrible threat is, in fact, a Godsend.

I do not advocate throwing caution to the wind and ignoring all fear -- absolutely not. But I do think it's important that we acknowledge both the fallibility and limiting potential of fear. Moreover, when afraid, it's important that we at least pause and consider whether the object of our fear may, in fact, bring us much good.

The Adaptive Nature of Emotions

As the title suggests, our emotions have an adaptive nature. That is, they have utility and purpose -- or, rather, they can have utility and purpose if we allow ourselves to see them that way. To paraphrase one of my former teachers, it can be helpful to conceptualize emotions as messengers, and to ask the question, "what is this feeling trying to communicate to me?" After all, emotions do not simply occur; they do not, like the cheese, stand alone. Emotions exist in relationship to our conscious and subconscious thoughts, hopes, goals, expectations, etc., and to our physical circumstances. Thus, it can be difficult, and even futile, to parse out our emotions in service of determining their origin, as they are likely tangled up with a lot of other stuff. But it can be very helpful and grounding to seek out what they're trying to tell us. 

I'll use myself as an example. I'm looking for work, and it's a slow process. It's frustrating, in fact. I periodically find myself sighing, shaking my head, feeling tense, etc. as I search for jobs. So I take a step back and ask, "what is my frustration communicating to me?" In this case, the answer is pretty simple: I want a job, and I want one now; and since I don't have one now, I want the rest of my search to be easy and quick. Expectations and Desires, meet Reality. It is helpful for me to recognize this, because it tells me 1) I should, for my own peace of mind, adjust my expectations, and 2) give myself props for knowing and pursuing what I want.