I’m fascinated by our relationships, and not just with each other. With our tools, with our toys. For example, you have a relationship with your cell phone, and your toaster oven, and your car. They may be amicable, they may be turbulent, they may be true love, these relationships.
Netflix, iTunes, TiVo, Wii… they are our friends, are they not?
I’m saying that when we have a position on something, and even subtle feelings toward something, and an attitude in thinking about or discussing it, this is a relationship. You don’t like the second washing machine in your building’s laundry room? Boom. Relationship.
"Not having" a relationship is also a way of being in relationship. Like that annoying co-worker that you avoid engaging and try to ignore, hoping they’ll just disappear as co-workers sometimes do? Or your father, who abandoned your mother when you were a baby, who’s “dead” to you? Boom. Relationships.
We also have relationships with abstract concepts – intangibles, memories, circumstances.
What does/did your father do for a living? You have (or had) a relationship with his livelihood, separate from your relationship with him. Were you allowed to have an opinion about his job? How did it affect you?
Where did you grow up? What was your relationship with that place? That home? Were you allowed to have an opinion? Do you have an opinion now about it?
What was your most embarrassing high school moment, and how do you feel about remembering it? How do you feel about Christmas? Disneyland? NASCAR?
It’s all relationships. There’s no escape. We’re “relational beings,” as the social scientists say.
As such, “Do you believe in God?” is, I believe, a terribly irrelevant question.
Because whether you do or don’t believe, you have a relationship with the creative force that is responsible for your existence. Whether you conceive it as concrete or abstract, as having volition or as just a long string of coincidental circumstances, it exists, and you have a relationship with it.
Saying you don’t believe in it, is a relationship. Saying you only believe in one particular form of it, is a relationship. Refusing to say, to yourself or anyone else, or otherwise pretending the issue doesn’t exist, is a relationship.
(I have a relationship with the question of whether or not to capitalize the word “god,” but that’s another column.)(Oo, should I have capitalized it there? Suddenly I'm in an Eddie Izzard routine...)
I say all this not to raise your ire or give you reason to be smug. I say this because it is practical.
Many psychological issues can be effectively discussed and addressed in the context of your relationship with the creative force, however you conceive or don't conceive it. I'll call it Life. What is your relationship with Life?
This, my friends, is a relevant question.
What is your relationship with Life? Do you wish it were different? Do you feel powerless to direct its course? Do you resent the demands of keeping your body fed, watered and walked? Are there not enough hours in the day? Is it unfair that you have to make big choices, like staying single or committing to this one imperfect person, earning a paycheck or pursuing your real passion, having children or wandering the planet with a backpack?
Fear about these kinds of questions creates anxiety.
Anger about these kinds of questions creates depression.
And a vast majority of psychological issues have their roots in one or the other.
If this doesn't apply to you, if you are 100% anxiety- and depression-free and have a deep, loving connection with Life and all its idiosyncrasies, congratulations. You're not normal.
For the rest of us, there's room for improvement and I recommend some work on healing your relationship with Life. Therapists live for this particular task, but we aren’t the only answer. There’s reading, meditating, walking in nature, music, poetry, art, skiing, dancing, playing with animals… There’s no right or wrong, only what works. Do what works for you, as often as possible, and I'd bet money you and Life will be better friends.
Besides, it's way more fun than dry, abstract debates about divine existence.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
You’re Normal, and, There’s No Such Thing as Normal
There is no such thing as normal. Despite the mathematicians’ pretty-pretty diagrams and the statistical fact that our likes, dislikes and other traits tend to fall neatly into bell curves, we are each individual human beings with unpredictable and paradoxical characteristics.
That said, this column is all about being normal.
This is because the process of socialization – the primary task of parenting, a staggering and truly thankless task – is about making us as normal as possible. Socialization is a process of oppression. We are taught – conditioned, in fact – to deny our own instincts, desires, knowledge and impulses in order to function in the civilized world. In the process, we develop a core self with flexibility of identity, the ability to connect with others, and a healthy sense of guilt and shame, without which we’d all be sociopaths. It’s a necessary evil.
I know there are many parents out there who are trying to avoid or circumvent the process of socialization. You know who I’m talking about. They don’t correct their kids. They don’t give their kids structure, because they don’t want to “limit” them. They believe they are raising independent thinking, counterculture little sprouts of hope that life doesn’t have to be so oppressive. I can understand that desire.
The bummer is, these parents are actually raising overly sensitive, magical thinking people who will likely suffer crippling anxiety their whole adult life, because without boundaries, structure and limits (and respectable authority figures who consistently enforce them), kids don’t feel safe in the world. Then they grow into people who don’t feel safe in the world, and people who don’t feel safe in the world have painfully overactive nervous systems that make it tough to hold down jobs. They grow into people who say things like, “I just want to be normal,” which is code for, “I want a break from this incessant anxiety and the sense that everything is harder than it should be.” Poor little sprouts.
So, that’s the trade-off: proper socialization, or the inability to function relatively easily in civilized society. Since you’re reading this, chances are that you were, at least somewhat, properly socialized. Sorry about that. But there’s hope!
Even though proper socialization comes with baggage, Thoughts on Baggage Handling is here to help. This column will offer insight and support for your normalcy, and sardonic acknowledgement when you’re lucky enough not to fall under the bell curve on that particular piece of baggage. Win-win!
Our first carry-on is self-destructive behavior. Not epic, drug-addict kind of self-destructive behavior – I mean normal stuff: drinking, smoking, eating fast food, staying up too late, calling that guy, calling that girl, breaking up with that guy, breaking up with that girl… We all have our favorites. There is a self-destruct button up in the corner of each of our inner consoles, and sometimes, without knowing why, we’ve just gotta push it.
If you don’t have that problem, if you’re wholly lined up with only treating your body as a temple and never beating yourself up, congratulations. You’re not normal.
As for the rest of us, we were deeply imbued with a strong (though arbitrary) sense of order and balance in the universe. Good things should happen when you’re “good,” and bad things should happen when you’re “bad.”
Self-destructive behavior often amounts to a rather sweet, childlike attempt to restore order. Something has gone off – either we have “been bad” and escaped punishment, or we’ve gotten good things when we didn’t do anything in particular to “earn” them.
Unfortunately, the psychological wiring is pretty tight, and it’s also fused with our sense of order and safety, so honestly, attempting to rewire it may be more trouble than it’s worth. It may shake your foundations and make life pretty freaky for a while. If it’s worth it, there are lots of therapists out there standing by, ready to help. Otherwise, give yourself a break. Having a burger from a wrapper every now and then won’t kill you.
That said, this column is all about being normal.
This is because the process of socialization – the primary task of parenting, a staggering and truly thankless task – is about making us as normal as possible. Socialization is a process of oppression. We are taught – conditioned, in fact – to deny our own instincts, desires, knowledge and impulses in order to function in the civilized world. In the process, we develop a core self with flexibility of identity, the ability to connect with others, and a healthy sense of guilt and shame, without which we’d all be sociopaths. It’s a necessary evil.
I know there are many parents out there who are trying to avoid or circumvent the process of socialization. You know who I’m talking about. They don’t correct their kids. They don’t give their kids structure, because they don’t want to “limit” them. They believe they are raising independent thinking, counterculture little sprouts of hope that life doesn’t have to be so oppressive. I can understand that desire.
The bummer is, these parents are actually raising overly sensitive, magical thinking people who will likely suffer crippling anxiety their whole adult life, because without boundaries, structure and limits (and respectable authority figures who consistently enforce them), kids don’t feel safe in the world. Then they grow into people who don’t feel safe in the world, and people who don’t feel safe in the world have painfully overactive nervous systems that make it tough to hold down jobs. They grow into people who say things like, “I just want to be normal,” which is code for, “I want a break from this incessant anxiety and the sense that everything is harder than it should be.” Poor little sprouts.
So, that’s the trade-off: proper socialization, or the inability to function relatively easily in civilized society. Since you’re reading this, chances are that you were, at least somewhat, properly socialized. Sorry about that. But there’s hope!
Even though proper socialization comes with baggage, Thoughts on Baggage Handling is here to help. This column will offer insight and support for your normalcy, and sardonic acknowledgement when you’re lucky enough not to fall under the bell curve on that particular piece of baggage. Win-win!
Our first carry-on is self-destructive behavior. Not epic, drug-addict kind of self-destructive behavior – I mean normal stuff: drinking, smoking, eating fast food, staying up too late, calling that guy, calling that girl, breaking up with that guy, breaking up with that girl… We all have our favorites. There is a self-destruct button up in the corner of each of our inner consoles, and sometimes, without knowing why, we’ve just gotta push it.
If you don’t have that problem, if you’re wholly lined up with only treating your body as a temple and never beating yourself up, congratulations. You’re not normal.
As for the rest of us, we were deeply imbued with a strong (though arbitrary) sense of order and balance in the universe. Good things should happen when you’re “good,” and bad things should happen when you’re “bad.”
Self-destructive behavior often amounts to a rather sweet, childlike attempt to restore order. Something has gone off – either we have “been bad” and escaped punishment, or we’ve gotten good things when we didn’t do anything in particular to “earn” them.
Unfortunately, the psychological wiring is pretty tight, and it’s also fused with our sense of order and safety, so honestly, attempting to rewire it may be more trouble than it’s worth. It may shake your foundations and make life pretty freaky for a while. If it’s worth it, there are lots of therapists out there standing by, ready to help. Otherwise, give yourself a break. Having a burger from a wrapper every now and then won’t kill you.
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