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Bonds
that Make Us Free, Part 30: Pride Usually Has Something to Do with
It
by C.
Terry Warner
Editors'
Note: If you haven't been reading this book serialization, you should!
We think it is one of the most important books to be published in
a long time. All of the excerpts are in Meridian's archives (see
right sash).
Our relapses
are often connected with pride, which is self-absorption differently
described. After having gained a foretaste of a sweeter kind of
life—a life in which we've treated others more considerately
and had them respond more considerately to us—we might begin
to congratulate ourselves a little. That's pride. Or, as we saw
in the preceding section, we might become impatient with others
if they don't respond considerately. That's pride, too, because
we feel superior. Or we might think that because our feelings are
less troubled and we're doing better with people, it's safe to indulge
some of our former self-absorbed desires. We think we're not vulnerable
anymore to our former selfishness and hardness toward others. This
too is a case of pride.
Learning how
and why this happens can help us both avoid slippages and recover
from them.
The following
illustration comes from a man I'll call Richard. His experience
with the material of this book had affected his life deeply, so
much so that he spent a good deal of time sharing it with other
people. From my contacts with him I can attest that he does not
exaggerate in describing an idyllic time during which troubling
desires and impulses temporarily disappeared.
Once I went
for three and a half months without ever being rude to my wife
and children. I could walk into a room where my children were
quarreling and my wife was tearing her hair out, and I wouldn't
have to fight down any sense of inconvenience or irritation. I
was simply able to handle the situation. I seemed to be able to
soothe hurt feelings and break up squabbles very easily.
I could tell
it was coming to an end when I started keeping track. One day,
about three months into it, I thought, "Hey, the last time
I felt any irritation at all was way back at Christmas, and here
it is March. I'm really onto something here. I'm going to have
to keep this up." That was a sure sign that the end was near.
About two
weeks later I was upstairs in the bedroom, reading an important
book related to my efforts to share with people my newfound way
of life. My wife, Joanne, was downstairs doing the dishes. My
daughters were in the bathtub. Kevin, my son, who was three years
old or so at the time, had been bathed and was in his pajamas
and was ready for bed. Suddenly I heard a lot of squealing and
laughter coming from the bathroom. Kevin had returned to the bathroom
in his pajamas and the girls were pouring water on him. Everybody
was having a great time. Kevin wanted to climb into the tub with
his pajamas on.
I heard all
this commotion, but I kept reading. About ten minutes later the
squeals of laughter turned to cries of discomfort. Kevin was soaking
wet and starting to get cold. The girls didn't know when to stop.
If it was fun to pour water on his head once, then it was going
to be fun a thousand times. I felt for a moment that I ought to
go check, but then I thought, "What's Joanne doing? She's
downstairs in the kitchen, and I'm reading an important book.
What's the matter with her? Can't she tell something's wrong?
Why doesn't she take care of this?"
I started
to feel irritated and then got mad. Right then and there the three
and a half months came to an end. Everyone in the bathtub was
crying. I went storming into the bathroom and yelled, "Kevin,
get out of this room. You should know better than to come in here
when your sisters are taking a bath!" Then I told the girls
to get out of the bathtub. "Get your nightgowns on and clean
up this bathroom and go to bed!"
Sadie, who
was about two, looked up at me and said, "No!" I knew
how to handle that! I picked her up by one arm and whapped her
bottom and said, "Now do it!" She started bawling and
ran off. The girls hurried to get their pajamas on and I took
care of Kevin. All the while I was thinking about my wife, "She
never even came upstairs. She's still down there doing the dishes."
After I put Kevin into bed I gave the girls their orders: "Now
get into your beds and be sure to say your prayers!"
It was at
around 6:30. I slammed the door and stormed down the hall. When
I opened up my book again and stared at the pages, all I could
see clearly was that I had just blown everything.
Richard delayed
jumping up to take care of the bathroom rumpus and, sure enough,
he again began to feel swamped by many of his old feelings and habits
of response. How interesting! A man lapses into self-betrayal and
immediately his insecurities and self-absorption return. And pride
returns with them. Why?
As soon as he
hesitated to do as he felt he should, Richard thought about the
importance of the book he was reading (a book, after all, that helps
people become more healthy emotionally and get along better!) and
of his need to take time to read it. Perhaps he sensed the significant
role he might play in people's lives, teaching them the things he
was studying. He was also aware of his calm effectiveness with his
family of late and of doing more than his part at home and of the
respect that was owed him for that. So the fracas his children were
causing in the bathtub disrupted the Important Man Doing His Important
Work! We might think his pride came first and kept him from doing
what he sensed was right. No, the moment at which he betrayed himself
was the choice point; if it hadn't been for this self-betrayal,
he would not have begun to worry about his image and insist on his
own importance.
Reflect for
a moment about the connection between self-betrayal and pride. In
self-betrayal, we inevitably seek to impress—if not others,
then at least ourselves—because there is simply no way to
display ourselves as worthy and acceptable, except by means of producing
evidence of at least deserving such emblems. We cannot do it just
by being who we are. We have got to make a show of ourselves, to
bolster up a fantasy image of ourselves, and this requires having
something to show—some evidence of how worthwhile we are. In
a self-betraying condition, how we present ourselves unavoidably
becomes the focus of our concern, and we mistakenly confuse it with
how we really are.
We can use just
about anything as evidence of our acceptability or importance, or
at least as evidence that we deserve to be accepted and important.
For example, we can use our appearance, manners, or hard work (think
of Ethan loading the car and preparing the family meals). Or our
knowledge or possessions (the college man in Part
10). Or our prowess or talents, social position, or style of
leadership (Jenny's approach to parenting and Eli's unwillingness
to suffer fools kindly). Richard's chosen emblems of acceptability
and importance were the type of book he was reading and the work
he was doing and also what these implied about him—the kind
of person he was, his sense of presiding over his household with
a sovereign calm, and his swift, deft dispensation of justice when
trouble arose.
"The Bigger
Box"
Attachment to
such evidence, which is pride, may keep us from looking honestly
at ourselves in the first place, but often it doesn't. At that stage,
before we have experienced a change of heart, we tend in our introspective
moments to focus on how we have treated others, rather than on the
fact that we are insecurely worried about our image. But the moment
we start to slip after having experienced such a change, pride often
becomes the main issue. We are concerned with what there is about
our character, rather than merely about our actions, that keeps
us from staying on course. We wonder, for instance, why possessions
or power or property or reputation mean more to us than doing the
right thing. Our failure to maintain our gains has shifted our concern
from the kinds of things we have done to the kinds of people
we are.
Think about
Victoria, the woman who fell back into her controlling ways when
her son Rusty started to show some progress with his problems. Her
change of heart came when she realized how insensitive she had been
in several specific relationships within her own family. But after
her relapse, she examined herself even more thoroughly. And she
could see how controlled she was by her attachment to her self-image
as omnicompetent and unappreciated. Previously, she had tended to
question her feelings and actions toward particular people. "Why
don't I listen to Rusty more?" But now, with the relapse, she
questioned the complex life-concerns out of which these feelings
and actions seemed to spring. "Why am I this way?" she
asked herself. "Why do I always have to be right?" In
other words, "Why am I so proud that I have to make sure every
success is my success? Why can't I ever let other people be the
ones who are in the right and get the credit?"
We can never
completely put an end to any localized collusion as long as pride
remains. One reason is that it indicates that we haven't yet abandoned
all our self-betraying ways. But further, as Richard's story shows,
pride sets us up for further self-betrayal. Richard's pride made
him hypersensitive, ready to be offended by almost anything done
by the very people from whom he had taken no offense for three and
a half months. The children's rowdiness and his wife's insensitivity
to his wants showed a disrespect for his image of himself as the
Important Man Doing His Important Work, and this he could not tolerate.
(These things would have amounted to nothing at all had he been
more concerned about his family than about himself.) The matter
of pride must be considered especially relevant to relapse because
pride makes further offense-taking inevitable.
For this reason
we may call the larger framework of pride, with its attachment to
self-image, "the bigger box." When our person-to-person
collusions lock us into little boxes, we are anxious to secure evidence
of our justifiability and acceptability—evidence which our
subculture will recognize. Hence the term "bigger box"
aptly describes the pride with which we cling to this evidence.
Merely patching
up our localized, strained relationships only takes us out of a
little box, not the bigger box in which it is encased. Escaping
our immediate cell, we're still locked up in the larger prison.
If we crave the promise that attends an initial change of heart,
we must be prepared to deal with the issue of self-image, or pride.
As long as we stay true to the light and do not slip, the issue
will not raise itself. But few of us never slip. Therefore it will
be helpful to address the issue of safeguarding our change of heart
from the corrosive effects of pride.
SAFEGUARDING
OUR CHANGE OF HEART
The moment we
betray ourselves after experiencing a change of heart, we become
insecure again and find ourselves once more hungering for acceptance
and approval. In that condition we are liable to minimize others'
interests in favor of maintaining our self-image. This puts us on
the slippery slope into full-scale relapse.
The very first
appearance of this self-absorbed need for approval ought to be taken
as a warning that the draft we are about to drink is poisonous.
As with the first appearance of a violent emotion or attitude, it
helps immeasurably to act quickly. We may need to stand sentry against
these intrusions as long as we live, but the stricter we are with
ourselves, the less agitating and invasive our proud impulses will
become.
We touched earlier
upon the role of deliberate action, effort, and determination—in
short, willpower—in attaining a change of heart. At this point
we need to say something about its role in maintaining that change.
We have already learned that although no amount of effort can cause
our heart to soften to the truth or keep it soft, effort can
prepare us to be softened. It is equally true that effort can
play an indispensable role in aborting a relapse.
Happily, Richard's
story of relapse ended with this kind of effort.
I went downstairs,
knowing what had happened and what it was going to take to make
it right. When I talked to my wife I said, "You know what
I've got to do?" And she said, "Yes, I know." So
I went back upstairs and into the bedroom. We have a rule in our
house with the children that when you fight with each other you
have to go to your room together and stay there until you can
hug and kiss and say, "I'm sorry" and "I love you."
You have to be able to forgive each other first. Then you can
come out of your room.
So there were
my daughters, all crying in their beds. I said, "Do you know
what, girls? We have a rule in this house, but I've never obeyed
that rule myself. When I've been angry at you I've never gone
to your room with you and stayed there until we could forgive
each other. I think that's wrong. So I'm going to stay in this
room until you'll forgive me." Immediately they hopped out
of their beds and were over on my lap kissing me, and we made
friends.
Well, I learned
a lot of lessons from that. But the one that sticks with me the
most, because I'm a father, is that it's a father's job to repent
first. That's what it means to me to be a father—to be the
first one to repent and heal the relationship. My children were
anxious and willing to forgive and be friends with me. But I had
to start it.
It seems to
me that that's the way relationships are healed. It's no more
complicated than that. It may take longer in some cases, but there
isn't much more to it than simply yielding your heart to what
you know is the truth and saying, "I'm sorry."
The contention
with his children shocked Richard into acknowledging his pride.
What happened then sums up my recommendations about safeguarding
our change of heart: Having glimpsed his fault, Richard made himself
seek forgiveness—as quickly as possible. He spit the poison
out.
It is by willpower
that we strive to pay close attention to the telltale signs of self-betrayal
and pride. It is by willpower that we refuse to allow ourselves
to minimize them. And it is by willpower that we act as quickly,
as boldly as we can, the very instant that pride, anxiety, or the
sense of victimhood makes even the faintest appearance.
But willpower
cannot supply the truth, nor is it our receptivity to the truth.
Willpower plays its role by taking quick, vigorous, and resolute
action to reject enticements to slip back into moral darkness and
to keep our attention riveted on the light.
In the next
section we will consider what to do when we slip up in our efforts
to safeguard our change of heart....
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