Empathy vs. Sympathy vs. File Not Found

When we say we want a partner to demonstrate empathy, is perhaps what we really mean  sympathy?

From Dictionary.com

em·pa·thy

1.  the intellectual identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, or attitudes of another.
2.  the imaginative ascribing to an object, as a natural object or work of art, feelings or attitudes present in oneself. By means of empathy, a great painting becomes a mirror of the self.

sym·pa·thy

1.  harmony of agreement in feeling, as between persons or on the part of one person with respect to another.
2.  the harmony of feeling naturally existing between persons of like tastes or opinion of congenial dispositions.
3. the fact or power of sharing the feelings of another, especially in sorrow or trouble; fellow feeling, compassion, or commiseration.
4.  sympathies
    a.  feelings or impulses of compassion.
    b.  feelings of favor, support or loyalty: It's hard to tell where your sympathies lie.
5.  favorable or approving accord; favor or approval: He viewed the plan with sympathy and publicly backed it.

The point has been made by some of my friends battling OCPD is that it's not that they necessarily lack empathy (though sometimes they do). In fact, when someone they love is hurting, they are often all knotted up inside, hurting with and for their partner, but often, none of that shows on the outside.

Spock (Photo credit: Tram Painter)

(Others do state they feel little to nothing for others inside. Mr. Spock is their role model; they take pride in working off a pure logic, no emotions model of behavior.)

It's not really fair to expect another person to be a mind-reader and to know what we need, especially if we know or suspect s/he has trouble "connecting" with emotions, let alone ours.  One spouse shared that when she is sick with a cold or the flu, what she wants is to be periodically checked on, for her partner to offer to bring her water or juice or soup or tissue. Her husband wants to be left the hell alone, just let him go to bed, close the door, and don't bother him.

So, until they actually discussed this, they were each irritating the hell out of one another. The wife felt unloved and neglected, the husband annoyed by her solicitousness.  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" is an excellent rule of thumb, but sometimes it requires some fine-tuning.

Sometimes the hugs need to be coached.

 

I became very good at "coaching my hugs," communicating my needs to my (now) ex. After kissing him hello and expressing how glad I was to see him, I might specifically say to him, "I had a really miserable day at work today.  Can I bend your ear for 15 minutes and just vent? I don't need solutions, just to let off steam. And a big hug afterwards, maybe a back rub."  What I would receive might be:

a.  "Sure, can I make you a drink first while you change out of your work clothes?"* Followed by decent listening, and a hug - sometimes good, sometimes Sheldon-style. (But never, ever the back rub. Back rubs are icky.)
b.  "You think you had a hard day? Listen to this..."
c.  Allowed to begin, but interrupted five minutes into my rant by his work horror stories
d.  Interrupted by advice, "I can't believe you put up with that! You should just tell that client to stick it up their ass..."
e.  "Well, my day didn't start off very well, either, because somebody forgot to wash her cereal bowl, like I have time to clean up after other people all day long."

 *the "change out of one's work clothes" issue was a big deal to him - the idea of relaxing and eating dinner before changing clothes was unthinkable.  Now that I'm on my own, sometimes I change, and sometimes I don't, and if I spill food on my work clothes, I... wash them. What a concept!

Empathy (software) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don't think the problem, in b-d, above, was that he wasn't feeling empathy - clearly, he was emotionally connecting with my "hard day at work" meme.  But instead of giving me the sympathy and support I had asked for, he often springboarded into his own head and his own needs.

On a side note, what he never, ever initiated was negotiation:

a.  "Honey, I am hungry and grouchy - can we postpone your rant till after dinner when I can listen better?"
b.  "Yes, but can we flip a coin, winner goes first, loser goes second? Because I need to vent about my day, too."

In other posts, I've talked about the all-or-nothing, black-or-white nature of disordered thinking, how the idea that people could meet in the middle and both could get their needs met, was something he could only grasp in theory, not in practice. Either it was my way or his way, rarely our way.


One issue that has repeatedly surfaced is lack of support for partners or children of (many, not all) OCPD'rs in a health crisis emergency situation, and not simply because of differing expectations. When I was ill, or experiencing some health scares, my ex refused to come with me to my doctor's appointment, though I invited him and told him it would be extremely helpful to me.

One of my sweet friend Sid's last blog posts included this:

I had a medical procedure, and my doctor scheduled a follow-up appointment on a Thursday. A Thursday where my sister and her family would be visiting my parents' one hour south of where I live.

As I'm often wont to do, I decided to shove "all of my crap into one bag" and go into work that day, go to my follow-up appointment, take Friday off, and hop on the train to visit with my family for the weekend.

First, I look at train schedules. I have two options: Amtrak which goes straight through but the train station is a slight drive south of my folks' home, or Metrolink which is closer to their home but I'd have to change trains.

No decision: Amtrak.

Greg felt differently, however.

G:  You are SO selfish! Now your parents have to go out of their way to get you!

S:  They won't mind.

G: And Metrolink is a few dollars cheaper!

S:  Yes it is.  Could you give me a ride to the station after my doctor's appointment?

G:  Absolutely not. Not if you're taking Amtrak. So selfish, Sid.

This went on for several hours, for a train ride he wasn't taking.

In preparation for the appointment, Greg often reminds me to ask such-and-such of the doctor. I usually ask the questions and share the answers with him, but I never seem to ask it right, or enough, etc. Big point of contention for him almost every time.

S:  If you do take me to the train, you could first GO to the doctor's appointment with me and ask your questions in person. That way you'll know what was asked and exactly what the doctor said without my watering anything down.

G:  No way. NO ONE goes to their partner's doctors appointment. That's crazy.

S:  I don't know. I've seen it happen quite often, but if you're not comfortable... Just trying to get you the information first hand, Dear.

G:  I'll make a list of questions for you to ask the doctor.

S:   No thank you. If you want to control the questions you can do it in person, Sweetheart.

When I refused his question list, Greg refused to assist.  I just planned on taking a cab instead.  Must less agita.

Condensing, a bit: Another friend drove her to the train station. The porters assisted her onto and off of the train (and she ended up vomiting green bile while on the train).

But when I got off the train my mom saw a skeleton, my sister thought I was dead, and apparently I talked in circles that entire first night.

After eating that first meal, my family could see my face fill out a bit within an hour or two.

That weekend with my family, I ate, I slept, and just hung out with loved ones, feeling very safe and accepted.

Unbeknownst to me, my doctor had seen a chemical imbalance between my sodium and potassium in my bloodwork.  Sis talked to a nurse friend of hers who said that my circular discussions were consistent with that condition.

Monday, I returned to Burbank, but instead of beginning a battery of tests at appointments all week, I would admit myself to the hospital for the tests, have a sodium IV round-the-clock, and go through a diet modification and education.

When she got out of the hospital after the tests, Sid was still so weak she could barely walk even short distances. She looked like a Somalian famine victim, except for the red hair and freckles. The "support" she received from Greg while in the hospital was so draining, physically and emotionally, that she asked him to not to come back for the rest of her time there. Two months later, she was dead.  While Sidney was an adult woman, who could and should have taken better care of herself, I also believe that with a more sympathetic and supportive partner, she might still be alive.

I believe that in Sid's situation, in my similar experiences, in those of other people who have shared stories of a denial/refusal to help a loved one during a health crisis - it's not that the OCPD'r doesn't have empathy, doesn't care. So if we think we could have a better result, if only they had more empathy - maybe we're going in the wrong direction. Maybe they already have gobs of empathy, crippling amounts of empathy, but they need training/help in sympathy.

I posed this question on the free forums site: We all know (I hope) that if your spouse tells you, "Honey, I think I broke a bone; will you please drive me to the emergency room?" that The Right Thing to do is get the car keys and not argue - am I right?

Here was one reply, from someone with an OCPD spouse and mother, who suspects perhaps a bit of OCPDness in herself:

I see it as denial or deliberate self-delusion based on caring too much, rather than caring too little. My mental model of it (Note the term mental model - I'm not saying that it's an accurate reflection of anyone's thinking) is:

- It's the OCPDer's job to discover, implement, and enforce all of the rules that keep the universe spinning and keep anything bad from ever, ever happening.

- Something bad happened.

These two things are incompatible. They lead to a choice between two equally intolerable conclusions:

- Bad stuff just happens sometimes, with no way to prevent it, or

- The OCPDer committed an error in performing his job to ensure that nothing bad ever happens.

We know that the first is true. The OCPDer may logically know the same thing. But emotionally, no. To accept that is, I think, to undermine the whole underpinning for OCPD. It would be an instantaneous cure. That's not going to happen.

And the second is equally intolerable. If the OCPDer can make mistakes re: things that are desperately important, like their spouse, then the whole protective structure that they've built around themselves is utterly worthless.

So it's necessary to go on to less logical but more palatable explanations. Some possible explanations that I can see are:

- Nothing bad has actually happened; the event is just an ordinary everyday thing.

- The bad thing is not the OCPDer's fault, it's the fault of the person that it happened to.

- The OCPDer doesn't actually care about the person. Look at them, after all, how imperfect and annoying they are.

Another interesting reply to the question: We all know (I hope) that if your spouse tells you, "Honey, I think I broke a bone; will you please drive me to the emergency room?" that The Right Thing to do is get the car keys and not argue - am I right? came from someone diagnosed with and struggling with this disorder:

Yes, you're right. But you're right in a language the OCPDr, at least in my experience, doesn't grasp in practice. Intellectually, in theory, in fantasy, sure. But in taking action? That alien, otherness that I often speak of - this is the heart of it.

What happens in these situations is a system breakdown, "file not found," from what I can tell. The rest - any action the OCPD'r does actually take - is fallout, dysfunctional, nonfunctional, whatever. Shame, frustration, fear, become defensiveness, anger, blame.

Empathy & compassion flow on impulse, a word more often associated with things like fun and spontaneity. But when you think about situations calling for empathy, some being illnesses, accidents, emergencies, these are unmapped territories that a person acts on with impulse, to caretake, to help, to allow the other to heal and feel better, without concern for doing it right. I'm not talking morally here, I'm talking protocol, even where and when protocol simply doesn't apply. We impose the word moral here sometimes in regard to the OCPDr but as I have before, I disagree with that. OCPD'rs work with plans and maps and protocol, those sorts of sanctioned "right" ways. But no two situations like these are alike, even if an illness repeats, or some detail may be similar, there are so many x factors that each one is completely unknown and uncharted. There's literally no conduit for the empathy to flow from.

Now, if a situation does repeat closely enough, or I've observed someone else taking the exact same action that's called for - I may do fine. If my brain detects a match, inside what happens is "aha, I know this one. I can do this one." Break a second bone a week later and I'll drive you to the ER without hesitation, so long as there's a clean & clear view of action to be taken.

sympathy doll (Photo credit: brendaj)

So, IMO, it's not that those with this disorder lack empathy - but they lack sympathy. They can't express what they feel in a way that is helpful to you. Much like a computer given a command it doesn't recognize, you'll get: File Not Found.  Maybe the average person doesn't need a script, doesn't need to be coached in the appropriate length of a hug, or not to argue with a partner who needs a ride to the hospital or a train station, but those with this and similar disorders do.

To expect them to "exceed their programming limitations" in times of crisis is akin to expecting your bird to start catching mice.


The problem is that when you as the partner are experiencing the heart attack, broken bone, or life-threatening illness, you may not have the time or patience to clearly and calmly help your partner or parent through their meltdown over your health crisis.

Your thoughts?

Too Perfect Tuesdays - Chap 6 - Fear of Dependency &Keeping A Distance

Image via WikipediaThis post continues with Fear of Dependency and Keeping A Distance from Chapter Six.

This series looks at a small snippet of The book on the Perfectionist Personality, aka The Obsessive Compulsive disordered Personality, aka OCPD, each week. Please follow along, leave your comments, engage more on the FaceBook website... whatever your heart calls you to do.

Too Perfect, When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by Allan E. Mallinger, M.D. and Jeanette DeWyze was published by Random House in 1992.  If you believe you are dealing with OCPD or someone who is "Too Perfect," whether that's you or a loved one, please buy a copy of the book and read it for additional insights that will not all be covered in these excerpts.

FEAR OF DEPENDENCY

Besides the fear of exposure and the fear of trusting, intimacy poses another threat.  The closer you get to someone, the more you come to need him or her.  And this in itself unnerves many obsessives.

<snip> But there's another aspect to dependency that also bothers most obsessives.  Dependency requires some sacrifice of autonomy, some loss of control over one's life.  <snip>

In other words, dependency, like trust, creates vulnerability.  Moreover, the obsessive's all-or-nothing thinking magnifies the threat perceived in any amount of dependency:  What if it were to lead to more and more dependency? <snip>

Keeping A Distance

To protect themselves from the vulnerability of intimacy, many obsessives shy away from it in a variety of ways.  For one thing, they tend to give other people as much physical space as possible.  <snip>

A few have told me they feel trapped or smothered if their mates sleep too close to them.  One patient said she wasn't totally comfortable when her husband hugged her.  <snip>  For some, the aversion to being touched is so strong it may cause them to shun physical therapists or doctors.  Obviously, anxiety about physical closeness also can seriously impair one's fulfillment in sexual relationships.

Many obsessives do participate eagerly in the mechanics of sex, but avoid an emotional connection during physical intimacy.  <snip>

***

The idea that we - as human beings - can be totally independent of others and still survive is a LIE. 

First off, we didn't. However indifferent, sporadic, and abusive their care of us might have been, somebody fed, clothed, and sheltered us when we were infants and small children.  There are several myths/stories of children raised with only those bare necessities - and no more - who died as a result.

"foster-mothers and nurses to suckle and bathe and wash the children, but in no ways to prattle or speak with them; for he would have learnt whether they would speak the Hebrew language (which had been the first), or Greek, or Latin, or Arabic, or perchance the tongue of their parents of whom they had been born. But he laboured in vain, for the children could not live without clappings of the hands, and gestures, and gladness of countenance, and blandishments."

There is horrifying evidence now of the majority (if not all) children who languished in Romanian orphanages bearing long-term medical, mental, and emotional problems.

I just finished reading Jean Auel's The Land of the Painted Caves.  While fictional, the work is extensively researched and checked as to probable social interactions among peoples in hunter-gatherer societies, based both on archaeological finds, and on anthropological research among modern hunter-gatherer societies.  No man is an island.  Most people in a primitive culture have at least rudimentary general skills at recognizing edible foods, hunting, fishing, garment and shelter-making, but if a clan-group is to survive, all must work together.  Skills are traded; a large fish that is caught is shared with others who contribute roots and vegetables.

Modern man is even more dependent on others.  If you're reading this on a computer, I'm positive you didn't manufacture it yourself from minerals you personally mined from the earth using only your hands and your flint digging tools.  I'm almost as certain you're not generating your own electricity.

The Amish and other agricultural societies who live by choice without electricity and "modern inconveniences," are very much centered around not just the family, but the community. Barn-raisings, church functions - again, everyone helps one another.

Even if you choose to live solo in a shack, Unabomber hermit style, you're going to use money (bank accounts, or currency printed/minted by somebody else) to buy materials (hammers, nails, saws) to build said shack.  You might transport to your shack how-to books (written and printed by others) on how to catch fish, tan hides, and build latrines.

And didn't somebody, somewhere along the way, teach you to read?

So, give it up with the delusion "I can get along fine without other people."

You may choose not to have a partner, or children, or to socialize with your co-workers.  You may cut yourself off from family (often with good reason).  You may fight with your neighbors and not have any friends.  You may decide that, because you have OCPD or bipolar disorder or chronic bad breath or whatever your excuse is, it is just too damn much work to get along with others, to make small talk or to risk asking for help or admitting vulnerability.

This is not a sign of strength, but of weakness.  It is as weak to be unable to stand being with other people as it is to be unable to spend a few hours of solitude.

As healthy human beings, we must learn to be INTERdependent upon one another. To help others, to ask for help when we need it.

In the beginning, my ex was quite physically demonstrative.  He brushed my hair, for hours.  Massaged lotion into my feet.  Held hands, lots of touching and kissing, but not cloyingly so.  Later, as his OCPD tendencies worsened, the affectionate touching evaporated.  He barely touched me - except when he wanted to have sex.  He wouldn't allow me to give him a back massage - and outright refused to give me one, even when I begged because I was in pain.

Being kept physically and emotionally at a distance, and then used as a periodic sexual outlet does not build closeness.

Your thoughts?

Hurt People... Hurt People

I came across this video on Single Dad Laughing.

Get tissues - you'll need 'em.

This 14 year-old kid's pain is so raw it not only made me cry, I felt a huge, aching hole in my middle.

In the aftermath of this video, which Jonah eventually posted on his FaceBook page went viral (over 7 million hits), what's been going on?

First off, Jonah is doing okay.  He's still in contact with his friends who moved on to high school he's made a lot of new friends at middle school.  His parents now know that he is gay, and love him anyway.  He's made a couple more videos that show a happy, goofy, normal kid.

And some other videos have surfaced, made prior to the "What's Goin On" video, some that show him making fun of kids with learning disabilities, and others, and there have been accusations that the whole video was a fake.

I watched it again.  Cried some more.  The range of emotions displayed by this kid, as he made this video... well, if it's fake, this 14 year old kid is a better actor than Meryl Streep.  I believe, as he recorded it, Jonah was truly scared and hurting.

Does that rule out the possibility of him being (for the most part) okay now?  Or that he might have not just been bullied, but been a bully himself in the past? Of course not.  People - especially teenagers - can be anywhere on a whole roller-coaster of emotions.  If we're 500 feet high now, and ground level two seconds later, doesn't mean we've gotten off the roller-coaster.

When we think of bullies, emotional abusers, victims, bystanders and the (rare but not unknown) heroes in the abstract, we tend to put them into neat little boxes.  Everybody has to fit into one category, and there can be no cross-over.

Yet... that's not the way life works.  In real life, there is cross-over.

One of my friends is fond of saying, "Hurt people... hurt people."  That is, oftentimes people who are themselves hurting or bullied will find someone else to pick on.  There's a long-standing cultural meme where the boss yells at the employee, who comes home and yells at her  spouse, who yells at the kid, who kicks the dog.

One of the things that makes an abuser so hard to leave is that those of us in such a relationship often witness their pain.  We know they are genuinely hurting.  We imagine, if we could only find the key, say the right thing, do the right thing, then they wouldn't feel so hurt, and they wouldn't feel the need to hurt us.  We make excuses for them, because even if everybody else says, "He's an abusive a$$hole - why don't you LEAVE?" we are the only ones who "get" that small, hurting part inside them.  Which is part of why they are so desperate to keep and control us.

Yet that doesn't work.  Repeat after me, "I cannot control others.  I can only control my own actions."  (And those only imperfectly, but that's another post.)

First, we must make certain we are not perpetuating the chain of emotional violence.  Regardless of who is mistreating us, we don't have the right to call people names, or seek to make them feel bad about themselves.  Get help, if necessary, but STOP being a bully.

Second - don't passively enable bullying as a bystander.

Third - don't put up with physical or emotional abuse.  Whether that's walking into another room, going away for the night, or leaving for good, make it clear that we won't put up with it.

This can be difficult if you are a minor.  And emotional abuse is not, "Johnny, if you don't clean your room, you'll be grounded," when the floor is ankle deep in dirty clothing and empty soft drink bottles.  Yet, even if the floor is that bad, "Johnny, you're a disgusting pig and I wish I'd never had you," is unjustified.  If you're a minor, talk to a counselor at school and work out strategies for how to cope with a parent who may be emotionally abusive.

If you're an adult, and not disabled, take back the power.  Yes, you may have bills and kids and 1001 excuses, but you don't have to stay and put up with such behavior.  You may choose to stay, at this time, or for many more weeks/months/years. but if so, know it is your choice.

Only you know if/when it is right to leave.  But know this: verbal and emotional abuse is never okay.  Not from a kid who might also be a victim of bullying; not from a boss, not from a parent, not from a partner.  There is no excuse for physical or emotional abuse.

Related articles

• Gay Teen's Viral Video Prompts Support, Outrage... And A Little Update (mediaite.com)
• Jonah's Video Still Echoing Across The World (queerlandia.com)
• Bullied Teen Jonah Mowry Speaks, Responds To Claims His Video Was Fake! (perezhilton.com)
• Spotting the Signs of Emotional Abuse (everydayhealth.com)
• It Starts with One: On Bullying and Bad Memories (alwayscoffee.wordpress.com)
• Just Get Over It (ekahileo.wordpress.com)
• Bully Prevention (safenetwork.org)
• RFW - Fearful Heart Ghosts of Lovers Past - Virginia & Matt (writinginflow.blogspot.com)
• It's Just A Flesh Wound (Or Is It?) (perfectlyawfulusa.blogspot.com)

Have you been bullied? Or bullied others, in the past?

Please share, below.

Too Perfect Tuesdays - Chap 3 - Rising Above Perfectionism Perfectly Human & Overcoming the Fear of Embarrassment

This post continues with Rising Above Perfection: PERFECTLY HUMAN & OVERCOMING THE FEAR OF EMBARRASSMENT, from Chapter Three.

This series will look at a small snippet of The book on the Perfectionist Personality, aka The Obsessive Compulsive disordered Personality, aka OCPD, each week. Please follow along, leave your comments, engage more on the FaceBook website... whatever your heart calls you to do.

Too Perfect, When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by Allan E. Mallinger, M.D. and Jeanette DeWyze was published by Random House in 1992.  If you believe you are dealing with OCPD or someone who is "Too Perfect," whether that's you or a loved one, please buy a copy of the book and read it for additional insights that will not all be covered in these excerpts.

Rising Above Perfectionism

The ultimate irony - and tragedy of perfectionism is that it simply doesn't work.  It's supposed to earn you rave reviews and exempt you from criticism.  Instead it damages both your work and your relationships, and puts you under an unrelenting pressure.  If you've concluded that your perfectionism is hurting you, you can make changes.

PERFECTLY HUMAN

Part of the Perfectionist's Credo is the notion that other people won't like you as well if you make a mistake, or you don't know things, or you allow your faults to show through.  In fact, the opposite is true.  Your need to be right all the time often repels friends and associates.

Nobody will ever feel empathy for you, love you, or enjoy being close to you simply because you are right or because you hardly ever make mistakes.  <snip>

And the next time you're wrong about something, just admit it.  Don't explain why you made the mistake.  Don't show how anyone would have made that mistake under the circumstances.  Don't insist that your answer actually was correct but was misunderstood.

Just confess, "I was wrong about that."  Then start counting the people who shrink away from you. I'm exaggerating, of course.  But when you start letting your fallibility show, when you let go of your need to know everything and to show how smart you are, you'll feel a burden being lifted.  You'll feel more relaxed.  It will be easier to smile.  You'll be free!  And these changes will occur the very first time you suppress your perfectionistic need to be infallible.

OVERCOMING THE FEAR OF EMBARRASSMENT

If you find yourself shrinking from certain activities because you dread being embarrassed, ask yourself two questions: Are your social fears and inhibitions preventing you from reaching your full potential or enjoying life?  And are you willing to endure a certain amount of anxiety to overcome the problem?

<snip> For example, if you dread giving oral presentations, start by asking questions as an audience member.  Don't wait until you have something brilliant to say.  Say anything.  <snip>

Follow the same gradual approach in other frightening situations.  Take classes that force you to perform in front of others.  Join walking groups,  Give parties.  Tell yourself that it won't be awful if your nervousness shows, or if you make a silly blunder.  When these things do happen, and they will, refuse to allow yourself to feel humiliated.  Concentrate on the fact that these missteps make you more attractive, not less so.  You come through as a genuine, vulnerable human being.  People can connect with you.

***

I wanted to show the karaoke clip from My Best Friend's wedding, but all the ones that had been posted online have been removed, per Sony.  If you've seen it, forgive me for the short explanation.

Julianne (portrayed by Julia Roberts) has decided to recapture the love of her best friend, who's engaged to marry Kimmy (Cameron Diaz).  She finds out that Kimmy, who has a terrible singing voice, also has a horrible fear of singing in public and exposing this.  So Julianne maneuvers the group to a karaoke place and pressures Kimmy to get onstage and sing, figuring that either a terrible performance, or an emotional meltdown will destroy Michael's (Dermot Mulroney) respect and admiration for this girl.

Kimmy is, in fact, woefully bad.  Bring-on-the-howling-dogs bad.  But Julianne's plan backfires, because Michael (Dermot Mulroney) finds Kimberly's courage and willingness to look bad in front of a crowded room just one more reason to love her.

Okay, this is Hollywood.  And I'm not suggesting that all the bad singers out there (you know who you are!) start crowding karaoke bars.  (Please don't!)  But I can testify that similar things have happened in my own life.  Whenever I have gone out on a limb in some way, I get more admiration and approval than if I'd just hung back and taken the safe route.  

Take writing.  Besides this blog, I've completed a couple of novels, and am working on another one.  I sent umpteen queries (70+) and pages before getting an agent.  (And I've gotten dozens more rejections via said agent, but still.)  I plan to be, I expect to be, a published writer in the not too distant future.  But even if that never happens, I know I'm a lot further along that goal than somebody who writes and secretes her writing in a box on the closet shelf, even if she's twenty times better a writer than I am.  Because I was willing to take that chance.

You'll always miss 100% of the shots you don't take.
~Wayne Gretzky

I'm also trying to tone down my own tendency towards Know-It-All-Ism.  Yes, I'm a fairly intelligent woman, and I've learned a lot at the School of Hard Knocks.  There's still more that I don't know, than I do.  Maybe I can win some respect, and admiration for being a Know-It-All, but love?  Close connection with other flawed human beings?  Not happening.

Nobody will ever feel empathy for you, love you, or enjoy being close to you simply because you are right or because you hardly ever make mistakes.  That phrase should be embroidered on a pillow or perhaps tattooed on my forehead, backwards, so I can see it every morning when I look in the mirror.

So many times I watched my OCPD ex launch into Know-It-All mode and begin lecturing our friends and family, seeing their eyes glaze over, seeing him ignore all their efforts to change the subjects.    My heart would ache, because I could see how very badly he wanted the admiration and approval of others - and how what he was doing had the exact opposite effect.  I felt horribly embarrassed and sad for him.  (Which, of course, is textbook co-dependence on my part - I should not have "imported" embarrassment or sadness on behalf of another person.  I'm workin' on it.)

There's only one Mr. Know-It-All people really appreciate.



Let me recommend, if you're a perfectionist yourself, another way of fighting your lions.

Have you ever gone out on a limb, and been glad you did?  

Please share, in the comments, below.

The Largest Hoard Begins With But A Single Piece of Crap



from My Mother-in-Law is Still Sitting Between Us.
used by permission
Please go visit for more insights (& pics) on hoarding

I didn't live in a Hoarding House, capital letters. 

I did live in a hoarding house, in progress.  I refused to live in a Hoarding House, but I could see the writing on the wall =  the boxes stacked in the garage.  Creeping into the computer room.  The non-functional TV on the floor of the bedroom.

When people (who've never dealt with hoarders) see news stories or hear about it, their reactions are usually, "I would never let it get so bad," they say.  "I would put my foot down."  They're not  meaning to be self-righteous, but they don't "get" how tightly those with a hoarding problem cling to their crap.  The few experts in the field have a very, very hard time trying to therapize hoarders to break the habit.

It's a very real mental disorder, although many hoarders live seemingly normal lives outside their homes or hoarding areas (some actually hoard in their cars, too.)

The Wheelchair

photo by Medical Products Direct

My OCPD ex devoted his life to caring for his elderly parents' lives in their last few years.  He bathed his mother and changed her diapers.  He spoonfed both parents as necessary.  When his father developed circulation problems, my ex did physical therapy with him, rubbed his legs, not giving up until the man regained partial mobility.  Ex's aunt loaned a wheelchair during this time, which had been used by her late husband.  Later, when ex's parents began their final decline, it was in constant use, especially for his father.  Shortly after his father died (at 96), ex b-f put the wheelchair in the garage.

This occurred in the first few months of our dating, when I was unaware of his OCPD.  Mostly, he seemed "normal" (honeymoon/courting stage) and I chalked up any quirky behavior as due to his loss and grief.  I truly thought him a hero, and in many ways, he was.

About two months after the father's funeral (the mother predeceased the father by about 4 months,) the elderly aunt came by while I was present.  The idea was to have the aunt sort through her deceased sister's clothing, prior to them being donated/sold, to see if she wanted anything. 

During the visit, she requested the return of her wheelchair.  Ex explained that it had been in the garage, and was currently all dusty and cobwebby, to please let him clean it up and return it to her at a future date.  Although it did occur to me that perhaps ex associated the wheelchair with his father, and had some trouble letting ago, I thought the clean-up excuse was not wholly unreasonable.

When he and I moved in together, over a year later... the wheelchair went from sitting in the garage of the parents' home, to sitting in the carport of our home.  Okay.  He'd had a lot on his plate, so it wasn't a priority, but surely within a few months, after we were settled in, we could clean it up, and make the trip (about 30 miles) to have a visit with the aunt and return the wheelchair.  No biggie.  So I assumed.

Shortly, as his OCPD behaviors flared out of control, the wheelchair became the least of my worries.  Still, I would make periodic attempts to get it returned, as it continued to sit in the carport, taking up valuable space, gathering more cobwebs, becoming more and more pitted with rust.

I tried reasoning, arguing, guilt, anger.  I tried mentioning it once a month; I tried not mentioning it for an entire year.  I tried bringing it up one year, early in May, as a suggestion for something we could do over the Memorial Day weekend; we could clean up the wheelchair, visit his aunt, and still have plenty of time for all the "normal" weekend activities that kept him so worried/busy (read, churning).

He wouldn't budge.  He didn't have time to clean it up; it had been used when his aunt bought it so it wasn't worth much anyway, and he was the one who'd put all the work into fixing it, so it wasn't like he was depriving her of something with much monetary value; it wasn't any of my business; what if he needed a wheelchair, didn't I know that he wasn't feeling very well?  However many times I brought it up, he had an excuse answer for why it simply wasn't possible at that time.

In retrospect, it's a classic example of how OCPD can become deeply conflicted when two imperatives collide.  On the one hand, the moral side - he verbally agreed with me that when somebody loans you something, you return it in as good or better shape as when you borrowed it.  And you always return what you've borrowed, even if it's a dog-chewed pencil with the lead missing.

Especially when the lender has asked for it back.  Returning something that belongs to someone else is the Right Thing To Do - and OCPD is all about always doing the Right Thing.

But then, there's Demand Resistance plus the OCPD hoarding compulsion.  (Note: It appears that in the upcoming DSM-V, hoarding will not be included as part of the diagnostic criteria for OCPD, but as its own illness.  While it's true that not all hoarders have OCPD, and not all of those with OCPD hoard, many do.  Of those with OCPD who don't hoard, many are the mirror opposite - they have a compulsive need to throw everything away.)

Hoarding, for some, seems to be tied to procrastination  (better not to do something at all, unless 100% convinced it can be done Right.)  To fear of catastrophe/future need. (What if I throw this away and need it later?)

Photo via The Concert T-shirt Etiquette Guide

Then there's the attachment most people have, to some degree, to inanimate objects.  Most of us have an old teddy bear or a favorite T-shirt, that has no practical use but we can't bear to throw away.  It's not the scrap of fabric, itself, but the memories that we don't want to let go.  When we look at that T-shirt, we are once again 18 years old, in a pack of friends screaming our lungs out for Dio or Black Sabbath or New Kids on the Block.

I can totally sympathize that perhaps in some subconscious way, ex b-f felt that the wheelchair = his father.  That it was really, really hard to let it go.  I did have a problem that, after nearly six years living together, seven years after his father's death, he still could not bring himself to return his elderly aunt's property.

Or, to get rid of a lot of other old things that were making our lives together worse, not better, and which, like the wheelchair, continued to gather cobwebs and were slowly rusting into the ground.

I wish I could tell you what the answer is.  In the end, I was not willing to live in a growing hoard.  Faced with the choice - get help, so he could understand why it was so difficult for him to let go of these things, or watch me walk out the door - he choose the hoard over me.  Despite the verbal and emotional abuse, despite so much that was terrible in our relationship, I would have been willing to stay and help him work on it, if only he had been willing to see a therapist and work on his issues.

He wasn't.

Now he has lost me, and his aunt passed away earlier this month, so he won't have to return the wheelchair. 

Somehow, I don't think he is any happier.

Do you have a hoarding story?

Do you keep, perhaps, too many items with sentimental value?

Too Perfect Tuesdays - Chap. 2 Control Strategies Can Conflict

Too many good food choices?
photo from Food Recipes 123

This post continues with Control Strategies Can Conflict and Failure of The Myth, from Chapter Two.

This series will look at a small snippet of The book on the Perfectionist Personality, aka The Obsessive Compulsive disordered Personality, aka OCPD, each week. Please follow along, leave your comments, engage more on the FaceBook website... whatever your heart calls you to do.

Too Perfect, When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by Allan E. Mallinger, M.D. and Jeanette DeWyze was published by Random House in 1992.  If you believe you are dealing with OCPD or someone who is "Too Perfect," whether that's you or a loved one, please buy a copy of the book and read it for additional insights that will not all be covered in these excerpts.

CONTROL STRATEGIES CAN CONFLICT

We've seen how the obsessive's need for control extends into three main areas: control of self, others, and impersonal events. Although I have discussed each separately, these aspects of control often commingle.  Sometimes they conflict.

Jennifer, for instance, recounted this sequence of events.  She was a perfectionist with strong opinions about everything from what dish detergent worked best to which clothing designers offered the best best.  So when she and a group of friends were deciding where to go for dinner, Jennifer knew immediately in her own mind which was the best choice.  She refrained, however, from explicitly trying to persuade the group to go there.  "I didn't want the whole decision to be on my shoulders," she said.  (In the next chapters we'll take a close look at how perfectionism provokes such fear of decision-making.) Instead she insisted that the choice made no difference to her.  The more the group discussed other possibilities, however, the more Jennifer inwardly chafed.  Almost in spite of herself, she began to try unobtrusively to influence the decision toward her preference, casually mentioning a few advantages of the spot, noting a drawback to one of the alternatives.  And yet almost the moment the group did select her preference, Jennifer found herself regretting she had ever said anything that might have tipped the scales in the decision.  All the way to the restaurant she worried: about whether the same chef was working there; whether everyone in the group would like this type of food; whether the service would be too slow,  Later, when one of her companions voiced a minor complaint about his meals, the comment deeply upset her.  She had assumed total responsibility over the whole experience, as if it were under her control to make everything work out well.

<snip> Her desire to control the group's behavior directly (by picking the restaurant outright) conflicted with her fear that her choice might turn out to be less than perfect, and thus lower her friends' opinion of her.  When she nonetheless subtly nudged them into selecting her choice, she began to worry (as if that might prevent the worst from happening) and to voice some of her concerns in a display of self-protective pessimism.

FAILURE OF THE MYTH

A whole host of experiences stand ready to contradict the Myth of Control, pointing out to obsessives that in fact they can't always completely control themselves, others, and life's impersonal events.  They will feel some irrepressible emotions and see their self-discipline lapse at times.  Despite their best efforts, someone at some time is bound to disapprove of them.  And despite all their precautions and all their attempts to mollify the Scorekeeper, obsessives, like anyone else, are almost certain to get sick, hurt themselves, or suffer financial reverses now and then.

***

Gee, boys and girls, can we say passive-aggressive? Ex-boyfriend would do this - refuse to state a preference, maintain that it didn't matter to him at all, and then, when I'd say, okay, we'll go with the green one (or whatever), throw a hissy-fit because he didn't want the green one.  This crazymaking game of "guess what I want" where they don't give you a clue, yet get very, very upset if you guess wrong, is exhausting.

And yet, in all fairness, I have to say I've done this myself sometimes.  (Probably more than sometimes, I'm sure I've done it more than I was aware of.)  I'm working on this so when there is a group choice, and it does matter to me, not being afraid to speak up and say, "I prefer this," or "I'd rather not that."  Pushy?  Outspoken?  I can live with that, rather than being passive-aggressively manipulative.

Back to the restaurant scenario - let's say I tell my friends, I want to eat at Restaurant X.  Let's say we go there and it is the absolute worst restaurant experience ever in the history of meals: the service is bad; the food is cold and inedible; and it's overpriced.

So what?  I would probably make a joke about it, that obviously I was on some really, really good (or bad) drugs when I'd been there before, we'd all laugh it off, and it would become an "in" joke: "Do you all remember when we went to The Worst Restaurant on Earth?"  If I went to a bad restaurant, or watched a movie I didn't care for, or tried to read a book that I couldn't get into on a friend's recommendation, I wouldn't think less of the friend.  I'd just think, wow, our tastes were not alike in this particular instance.

Have experienced this kind of mix of behaviors, either in yourself 

or that you've seen in someone else?

Share in the comments, please.

Death of an Assclown

In case you're wondering, assclown is a marvelous word coined by the marvelous Natalie Lue who writes Baggage Reclaim.  Because calling a certain type of man a "player" or a "ladies' man" or a "Don Juan" is giving a sleazeball entirely too much undeserved respect and dignity.


Photo by :mrMark: at Flickr
(just a regular, not an AssClown)

"You know he’s an assclown when he liberally presses The Reset Button – He possesses a ‘special’ ability to reset the relationship to whatever point that he feels most comfortable with, which is effectively like erasing the past. This is how he breezes his way back into various exes lives, disappearing for long enough and then bamboozling his way back in and trying to force out the memory of his misdemeanours. You’ll either remember them but be so fricking relieved to have him back and feel like you’ve ‘won’ that you go along with his ‘brainwash’ or you’ll try to reason with him and explain your point of view about past events and he reacts negatively, effectively teaching you (see below with passive aggression) that if you ‘remember’, he’ll be offski or difficult to deal with." (from "How to Spot An Assclown")

So, I have this cousin who belongs in the Assclown Hall of Fame.

Well, had this cousin.  Because I just got the news he died of cancer, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

Cancer is an ugly way to die for anybody.  I've been given to understand that Cousin D had reconciled with his estranged children, and had actually remarried Wife #1 (more on that, below) last February.  My aunt, his mother, is understandably grieving, as any mother would.

I did not hear if his two brothers or his sister, my cousins, are planning to attend the funeral, or if they were even on speaking terms in recent years.

Photo by NickPiggott at Flickr

So why is Cousin D an assclown?  Marriage #1 - I'm slightly unclear on the details, whether his wife was still pregnant with offspring #3, or whether offspring #3 was an infant.  What I do know, according to family legend, is Cousin D went out one day to pick up some milk for the family... and never came home.  Dead?  Wandering somewhere with amnesia?  Abducted by aliens?

Nope, as his worried family found out some years later, Cousin D was perfectly safe and healthy.  He had to get back in touch in order to get a divorce from Wife #1, in order to marry Wife #2, with whom he'd run away while playing milkman.

At such time, Aunt and Uncle were relieved to find their Baby Boy was alive... Wife #1 was, understandably, more than a trifle miffed; his offspring were angry (and hurt,) and his brothers, Cousins A & B were furious.  Declared Cousin D a total assclown, and demanded Aunt & Uncle choose whether to have contact with them, or with dishonorable Cousin D.  His sister, Cousin C, played neutral party as much as possible.

Eventually, for whatever reason, Cousin D's marriage #2 did not work out (could it have been him?)  But he married again, a lovely woman with two children of her own.  I met them all, briefly, when he brought them to our old hometown for a semi-family reunion.  Cousins A & B did not attend, but Cousin D's oldest son came to the house and everybody made nice.

Cut to: several years later.  Cousin D abandons Wife #3, but this time, no divorce, because, Surprise!  He's still married to Wife #2, he was never legally married to Wife #3 at all.  (See why he belongs in the Assclown Hall of Fame?)  Why they didn't put him in jail as a bigamist, I truly don't know.

Now, this guy was my cousin by blood, but we'd never been emotionally close.  He was about 15 years older than me, and we probably never exchanged more than 100 words during our entire lives. 

Apparently he exerted some magical, seductive power over women which I never saw, because despite the absolutely abominable way he treated her, Not-Quite-Wife #3 continued to pine after him for quite some time, asking me and others in the family how he was doing, if we could explain his thought processes (uh, no!) and so on. 


Photo from Willy D on Flickr


We're still FaceBook friends, and I wonder how she's taking the news, which my oldest sis, who'd gotten The Call from our Aunt, thus had all the info, was planning to break to her over the phone.  Sis and I agreed that, legal wife or not, #3 deserved to be informed, via an old-fashioned phone call.  Having lived as his wife for 10+ years, sending her a message on FB seemed... wrong.

And, as mentioned above, he and Wife #1 remarried last year (presumably after he did secure a legal divorce from Wife #2)

The mind boggles, truly it does.  I don't get it, why Cousin D (he wasn't bad looking, but he was no George Clooney)  had all these women ready to lay their lives at his feet, how he could treat them all so horribly and still sleep at night. 

I don't get them.  As badly as he behaved, as much as he cheated and lied and they watched him screw other women over, Cousin D's wives could still accept it and tell themselves, "Yes, but he's different with me," or, "It's different this time, he's changed."

And then, I look back at so many of my own romantic relationships, including the last one, and realize I've done the same kind of thing, accepted the intolerable, made excuses, told myself a man wouldn't treat me the way he treated the other women in his past. Or that he wouldn't treat me again the way he just had.  I, too, was a Queen of Doublethink and Denial.  <rolling my eyes and sighing at my younger self.>

Hopefully, this time I've changed.

And I don't get how I'm supposed to feel about Cousin D's death.  I'm kind of sad for those who loved him, I guess.  I know that in his later years, Cousin D did do quite a bit for his elderly parents, especially caring for his mother after his father died.  I know that cancer is a cruel beast (don't know what kind he had, but none of them are pretty) and the suffering he must have gone through may have been a bit of karmic payback.

And, if his children and (some of) his wives can forgive him, who am I to hold a grudge on their behalf?

Still, there's a piece of me that simply isn't sorry at all he's dead.  That thinks the planet would be a much better place if all Assclowns were gone from it, like, yesterday. 

Have you ever experienced a death, either of a former lover or family member, that left you with very mixed feelings?  Please click a Reaction or share in the comments (as much as you feel comfortable doing.)

What Was I Thinking?

I was recently validated as not being the only woman on the planet looking back on a relationship (or, alas, more than one relationship) and asking myself, What Was I Thinking?

They've got stories from 58 women asking themselves the same question.  So, I'm not the only slow learner.

I'm sure, if you asked a bunch of gay women, gay men, or straight men, they'd have similar "light bulb moment" stories about their girlfriends, boyfriends, and ex-spouses. 

Unfortunately, sometimes we turn the bulb out again.

From the Intro:

What Was I Thinking? is a collection of personal essays written by women describing that moment in a relationship when, no matter how much you think it should work or want it to work or need it to work, it becomes clear to you that it's not going to work.

The really hit me - too much of the time we focus on exactly that: "I think it should work" and "I want it to work" and "I need it to work" and we don't want to pay attention to: Hello?  It's not working.  They say you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, but we get wrapped up in trying to help somebody else overcome their problems and live up to their potential.  Maybe our partner doesn't want to be a silk purse.

...this is not necessarily the moment of the actual breakup.  Rather, these stories describe the instant when logic, common sense, and simple self-interest triumph over the human need to be loved - or, at least, the need to be in a relationship.  The relationship may not last beyond lunch, or it may linger for weeks or even longer.  But inside, you know: He's going to be an ex.

Trying to remember when the first time I knew with OCPD ex b-f it was not going to work out.  There were so many, many moments, and I just kept overruling my common sense and gut instincts.  Was it the time he started in with the Shower Rules?  The jealous spazz attacks about my boss and co-workers?  The way he would come in to "touch base" with me (aka, constant interruptions) whenever I was trying to write?

I just kept telling myself, with enough time and love and patience, I would be able to make it work.  I was an idealist.


They cleaned this up just a smidge for the broadcast version.  The written version describes the guy as being built, not like a 16 oz can of beer, but like two 16 oz cans of beer, stacked on top of each other.  <wincing yet?>

I dated a guy like that for a while, and concocted an excuse to break up, because, well, sex wasn't fun because of his can-cans.  (Or big banana, take your pick.)  Couldn't think of  a tactful way to tell him that, though.

I'm having fun reading the stories and watching the video clips.  Apparently Nicole Hollander (cartoonist, Sylvia) was once married to somebody with OCPD - seems he felt she deliberately ruined his soup by making it with noodles that were the wrong width.

Aiiieee!

Well, I'm glad they rediscovered this holiday, and I'll definitely be celebrating.

Have you had a "Come To Your Senses" moment?

What triggered it for you?