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Bonds That
Make Us Free, Part 13: Conflicting Stories and Cooperative Conflict
by C.
Terry Warner
Conflicting
Stories
How do people afflicted with anguished, accusing thoughts and feelings
get along with others? How do others react to them? The answer is
that others, feeling accused, seldom respond gratefully, and as
a result the self-betrayers' relationships become terribly entangled.
This adds to the difficulties they experience in trying to escape
from their negative thoughts and feelings.
Here is the
general pattern in which self-betrayal turns our relationships into
an emotional bondage from which we typically can see no escape.
- We
adopt accusing and self-excusing attitudes and feelings.
- We think
we can hide them, but we can't. Our real attitudes and feelings
toward others come across to them. As Friedrich Nietzsche wrote:
"We can lie with our lips, but we tell the truth with the
face we make when we lie."
- Feeling accused,
others almost always take offense; they develop an accusing attitude
and accusing feelings toward us.
- Perceiving
their response, we feel just as offended by them as they do by
us. In our minds, this gives us proof that we're fully justified
in blaming them.
- Because we're
so absorbed with our own feelings, we do not see what's going
on. We do not see that instead of trying to hurt us, they feel
mistreated and threatened. In their response to us they are only
trying to deal with the judgmental person we have become. They
are only responding to the kind of person we're giving them to
respond to.
Here, then,
is the overall picture of the interaction: We concentrate
on their misdeeds in order to have proof that they are to
blame and not us. And they focus on our misdeeds for
the same sort of reason. Thus, we and they set in motion round upon
round of edgy and sometimes hostile interactions, in which each
blames the other and exonerates himself or herself. Self-betrayal
invites more self-betrayal, which invites more self-betrayal.
Glen's Story
The following story, which like the others in this book is true,
illustrates this pattern. It is drawn from the early married life
of a couple I'll call Glen and Becky. It comes in two versions,
his and hers. In neither version is the full story to be found,
because each person is enclosed in his or her own self-absorbed
perception of the events. When the two stories are brought together,
some astounding truths about relationships suddenly come to light-as
you will realize once we have read the two stories. The first version
is Glen's.
When Becky and
I got married, I discovered she was just about perfect. In fact,
that was her one fault-her perfection. She was determined to do
every "supposed to" she had ever heard. She could not
rest, enjoy life, and be easy until every one of those "supposed
to's" got done, and she couldn't let her husband rest either.
It was clear to me that she would be more happy and less frustrated
if she weren't always preoccupied with her lengthy list of "supposed
to's."
The longest
part of this list concerned Christmas and the elaborate preparations
required to make it perfect in every way. In Becky's mind, you could
not give a gift unless you made it yourself . . . from scratch.
To buy a gift was thoughtless. It didn't show you really cared.
I cooperated with this policy before our brothers and sisters got
married and we all started having children. But pretty soon there
were dozens of presents to make. Initially, we would begin in October;
later we started in September, then August-then even June! The black
hole called Christmas was widening and swallowing up the entire
year.
Nor could we
buy Christmas cards like other people did. We had to make them-
dress the kids up in shepherds' costumes, with the littlest one
as baby Jesus, gather hay or straw for the manger, and take a picture
for the card. I'm the fellow who scavenged the countryside around
Providence, Rhode Island, every year looking for straw or hay in
October. And once we got the card printed, we couldn't just sign
it and send it. After all, we hadn't contacted all those people
in a year. We had to write a letter on each card. Many nights I
stayed up, my head bobbing sleepily over the desk, composing personal
letters by my own hand to folks I could sometimes barely remember.
But what bothered
me most was Becky's saying, "I'm the only one who cares about
Christmas. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't do anything nice."
Then we started
exchanging gifts with other families. Don't ask me what got into
us. The other families would give a book or some jam or a box of
cookies. We made raspberry yogurt, with raspberries we had grown
ourselves in the summer and frozen, or granola loaded with chopped
dried fruit, which we had also produced ourselves. (Berries, apricots,
and prunes are supposed to taste different when they're homegrown.)
And of course we couldn't just take the stuff to people's houses.
We had to sing carols on the doorstep. In parts. That meant rehearsals.
Some of our children have toured the world in choirs; some, nearly
monotone, hate to sing. On the doorstep one child or another would
get stepped on or pushed out of his or her turn to ring the bell,
so there would be hassle up to the last second, and then we'd display
our smiling lips to hide the hard, sidelong glances that kept everyone
in line. It took many cold nights for our irascible little band
to finish spreading Christmas cheer.
Don't get me
wrong. There was nothing about any of this that wasn't first- class.
But as we'd sit in the kitchen helping the children decorate the
bottles or boxes for the food we would deliver, or glare at each
other on somebody's doorstep, I would think that here we were, night
after night, doing all the peripherals, the showy stuff, the trappings
of Christmas, without any of the spirit of Christmas, which was
what my wife said this was all for. We'd be exhausted and grumbling,
I'd think of what this was costing me professionally, and Becky
would complain that she was the only one who cared about Christmas.
She'd say, "I feel like I'm dragging everyone through Christmas.
If it wasn't for me, no one would ever get a present ready or even
think about making Christmas nice." More than once I'd lie
in bed, too tired and irritated to sleep, mentally composing a Pulitzer-prize-caliber
short story entitled "The Woman Who Destroyed Christmas."
When Glen told
this story to a group unfamiliar with the idea of self- betrayal,
he received much sympathy, especially from the men. Many were quick
to say what Glen and/or Becky should have done. "Glen should
have put his foot down." "They should have negotiated
a compromise-this much time on Christmas and no more." But
once people learn about self-betrayal, they can see the self- absorption
and self-justification in stories like Glen's. They can see the
accusation in his way of nursing his victimhood. They know that
the other side of the story must be very different.
Becky's Story
How would you have responded had you been Becky? What would
it have been like living with a man who believed your aspirations
for the family were ruining his life?
Several years
after the Christmastime conflicts came to an end-we will learn later
in this book how this happened-Glen asked Becky to write her recollections
of them. For anyone who takes Glen's side when they hear his story,
hers comes as a jolting revelation.
When we were
first married I had looked forward to building traditions that would
hold our family together, and Christmas was the best opportunity
to do that. Since the essence of Christmas was sharing something
of oneself, making gifts was important, especially because in those
days we didn't have much money. Because Glen did things like that
before we were married, I had every reason to think he would share
this commitment. But then I discovered that he was content to postpone
what had to be done for Christmas. He didn't seem to want to put
himself into it. He was clearly anxious to get the preparations
over with; his work seemed to matter to him more than the family.
He was willing to dash out at the last minute and buy things that
weren't meaningful. That was the very opposite of the meaning of
Christmas.
It's not that
I would have minded buying gifts, if they could have been picked
out thoughtfully so they would be meaningful to the people we gave
them to; I would have felt fine about that. But we couldn't afford
nice gifts, so in order to give people presents that would show
we really cared, we needed to make them. So here I was trying to
economize, and Glen was oblivious to that. He was willing to spend
the money foolishly. It's really hard to try to create meaningful
family experiences when the person who is supposed to be your partner
is reluctant about the whole endeavor, and when he does participate
he does so with obvious resentment. I could see the enthusiasm drain
out of Glen whenever there was something about Christmas that needed
to be done.
Well, I decided
if I went ahead and got Christmas started early he would get into
the spirit of the thing and want to be involved himself. But that
didn't seem to work; the more I did, the more he was willing to
let me do. The projects he was in charge of, like making the Christmas
cards, would get postponed and in many cases not done at all. And
when they were done I could see he resented the time it took. His
heart just wasn't in it, that's all.
So you can see
my predicament. In order to keep it all from being put off to the
last minute, I would start talking about Christmas early, trying
to get him involved in planning, but each year he seemed to want
to do less, so I'd try even harder to start earlier to get the plans
made so I'd have more time to do it myself, and more opportunity
to try to get him interested and involved. And it also frustrated
me because I really didn't want to be badgering him about what he
was supposed to do, and I didn't want to be the heavy all the time,
but it seemed that if I didn't pressure him he wouldn't get involved
at all.
Cooperative
Conflict
If you heard Glen and Becky tell their stories separately, you
might think the two of them were scarcely living in the same world.
How can two people experience the same events so differently? The
answer to this question lies in the fact that the two stories complement
one another; they are two halves of a single whole.
To see this,
think first about their respective individual assessments of the
problem. What did Glen think the problem was? That he and
Becky didn't have enough time or energy to get everything done?
That they hadn't gone into this Christmas thing with a sufficiently
clear understanding? (Should they have entered into some sort of
prenuptial agreement?)
Anyone who thinks
this is how Glen thought of the problem won't have paid careful
attention to his story. If in those early years you had asked Glen
to identify the problem, he wouldn't have hesitated. He would have
said: "Becky. Becky is the problem. I married a fanatic. She
must have been born with an extra Christmas chromosome. Her relentless
demands are making normal family life impossible."
Now ask yourself:
How would Becky have answered the same question? How would she
have described the problem? She wouldn't have hesitated either:
"Glen's the problem. From the way he treated me and other people
when we were dating, I expected someone completely different, someone
more committed to our home life. He's not invested in our family
projects. His mind is somewhere else half the time. He undermines
everything. I don't think he has any Christmas spirit at all."
Glen thought
Becky was the problem, and she thought he was the problem. Each
blamed the other for the Christmas troubles between them.
Next question:
If Glen had had the power to make it happen, what would have been
his ideal solution to the problem? In his fantasies, what did he
wish for?
Had you asked
him this question at the time, he would have said his ideal solution
was for Becky to change. Become reasonable. Relax her demands. And
similarly for Becky: In her fantasies Glen needed to change. Wake
up to the needs of the family. Put his heart into the family projects.
The ideal solution
for each of them was to have the other change.
But because
these ideal solutions were based on blame, they could never have
worked. To see why this must be so, let us ask this question: Did
Glen and Becky ever try to implement their respective solutions?
Did they ever try to get each other to change? You bet they did-occasionally
by directly voicing their complaints, but more often by subtle innuendoes
in what they said or by huffing and puffing about to show how burdened
they felt. Each had his or her own style of conveying the message:
"You are really making things difficult for me, and you need
to stop!"
Did either of
these two people appreciate the other's accusing efforts to get
him or her to change? Did either ever say, "Oh, thank you very
much for pointing out these shortcomings to me. Why did it take
me so long to see that this is what you wanted? I'll put my heart
into doing just what you suggest!" Was this the reaction?
Not on your
life. Very few of us would have reacted this way. Instead we take
offense when we are accused. We feel attacked. We dig in and defend
ourselves. A six-year-old was causing a ruckus in the supermarket,
pulling cans off the shelf, climbing in and out of the cart, and
demanding candy. In exasperation her mother gripped the little girl
by the shoulders and harshly told her, "Sit down!" "Okay,"
the daughter responded, "I'll be sitting down on the outside,
but I'll be standing up on the inside!" As a wise person once
said, "Criticism produces results 180 degrees opposite what
was intended." Trying to "fix" the other person almost
always backfires.
Since Glen
couldn't have his ideal solution, how did he deal with his
problem? He coped. He fought to maintain some balance and sanity
in the family. In spite of the pressures, he strove valiantly to
keep up at work. He said he distinctly recalls the sensation, when
staying up one night to write personal letters on greeting cards,
of carrying on "in a plucky spirit." That was the best
way he could think of to deal with the difficulties he was sure
Becky was causing.
In fact, if
someone had told Glen at the time that Becky blamed all the Christmas
problems on his refusal to throw greater effort into Christmas,
he would not have denied it. He would have said, "Sure, I hold
back-I have to, because of her excessive demands. It's the only
way to put on the brakes. If I didn't we would have Christmas for
breakfast, lunch, and dinner 365 days a year."
In Glen's
mind, he had to hold back-otherwise Christmas would have
taken over their lives!
And how did
Becky try to solve her problem? She tried in every way she could
think of to overcome or compensate for Glen's resistance so the
family could enjoy memorable Christmases. "I would start talking
about Christmas early, trying to . . . get Glen interested and involved."
She coped by making plans for everything that might need doing so
nothing would slip, and by following up with hints and suggestions
designed to keep him on task. What else could she do with a partner
who chronically dragged his feet?
Indeed, had
someone told her Glen's opinion about the cause of all their Christmas
difficulties, Becky wouldn't have denied that she pressured him.
Remember her words: "I really didn't want to be badgering him
about what he was supposed to do, but it seemed that if I didn't
pressure him he wouldn't get involved at all." So what was
the reason for keeping all that pressure on? Glen was holding back!
That was why she pushed him so.
In her mind,
she had to pressure him-otherwise he wouldn't do anything
at all!
So while Glen
was holding back because of Becky's pressures, Becky was pressuring
him because he was holding back.
Glen's solution
to the problem was the very problem Becky was trying to solve.
And Becky's solution to the problem was the very problem Glen
was trying to solve.
Glen's solution
= Becky's problem
Becky's solution
= Glen's problem
He said he hated
her -pressure--but his attitude and behavior created her need to
pressure Glen; it was her solution to the family's problems.
And she said she hated his holding back-but her attitude and behavior
created his need to hold back; it was his solution to the
family's problems.
Each of them
struggled to protect the family from dangers he or she blamed on
the other, dangers that in fact they both were helping to create.
Blame Provokes
Blame
Glen feared that if he did not continue doing what he was doing,
things would get even worse, and Becky feared the same. This is
always the case with mutually accusing self-betrayers. Both are
certain that what they are doing is necessary to keep the undesirable
behavior of the other from getting completely out of hand. Both
believe their accusations are restraining the undesirable behavior
of the other and that therefore they are saving the situation. But
in fact they are doing exactly the opposite!
This formula
can be represented as a cycle in which each party's response feeds
the other's, round and round. The cycle escalates over time. The
more Becky pressured Glen, the more reason he had to insist that
other projects besides Christmas needed his attention. And the more
he did this, the more panicked she became about getting everything
done in time for the holidays. In one way, this collaboration resembles
a self-accelerating machine that automatically opens its throttle
as it increases its speed. The faster it goes, the faster it makes
itself go-until it breaks apart.
Becky and Glen
collaborated in each other's behavior. He was her accomplice, and
she was his. Because of the dynamics of the cycle, a court of moral
law would have convicted him as well as her for driving the family
to extremes and would have convicted her as well as him for sabotaging
the family projects. Neither of them acted by themselves. They helped
each other do what they each said they hated.
To me, this
cycle is utterly amazing. How could a circumstance be more curious
or more potentially tragic? Here are two people in love with one
another, speaking to each other without rancor, striving to do good
as they see it, and yet, by every effort to make things better,
actually making them worse. Each sought to save the family from
the destructive influence of the other, and the more they did this
the more the cycle escalated.
It was this
cycle of mutual blame, not the number of Christmas projects, that
endangered the family. By participating in this cycle, Glen and
Becky polarized each other and poisoned the family atmosphere.
We have seen
that our accusations give those we accuse good reason to do the
very thing we are blaming them for. This fact has a most astounding
implication: Generally speaking, we share responsibility for
the way we are treated. If we want to know what impact we are
having on others, we need only to examine their responses to us.
I am not speaking about the treatment we receive from someone who
appears in our life suddenly, out of the blue, like a criminal burglarizing
our house or a tyrant who devastates our lives by oppressive edicts
and armed force. I am talking about the treatment we get from people
we live or work with day to day. In general, the more closely we
are involved with someone, the more the principle applies. To
see ourselves, we need only to look at others' reaction to us.
So it is our
attitude and feeling toward others that gives them provocation and
excuse for doing what we are blaming them for. This principle can
be expressed in this brief maxim: Seeing other people as the
problem is the problem!
A Name for
the Pattern
In spite of the fact that nothing is more commonplace, we have
no adequate word in our language for the cyclical pattern just described,
just as we have no adequate word for getting stuck. What shall we
call it?
Others have
noticed aspects of the pattern and have invented names that seem
to work. One of these names is vicious circles. Other names
are dance and spiral and games people play.
In some but certainly not all respects the pattern resembles codependency.
Psychiatrists sometimes have used the term deviation-amplifying
feedback.
Like R. D. Laing
and Howard Stein, I prefer the term collusion (although what
they mean by this term differs significantly from what I mean-in
their theories, for example, collusion does not grow out of self-betrayal)
. When used for this purpose, the word collusion is
metaphorical. In the literal sense of collusion, the parties
involved are perfectly aware of the mischief they are up to, perhaps
communicating by secret signals. Though the individuals participating
in the collusion pattern I have described have no such awareness,
they appear to, and that's why I like the name collusion.
They push each other's buttons so unerringly that they seem, like
literal colluders, to be acting on a prearranged plan-as if they
had agreed, "Look, you give me an excuse for my misbehavior
by misbehaving toward me, and I'll do the same for you."
But of course
they have no such plan; they do not aim deliberately to provoke
each other. And in the next section, we will see that it is the
readiness of each to take offense that turns whatever the other
does into a "direct hit" and the other person into an
unerringly accurate offender.
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