IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE

Photo of George Bailey's Despair from "It's A Wonderful Life" 1946

If You Can Live For Yourself

Life isn’t so wonderful when you sacrifice yourself for other people.  Of course, friends are essential; and I certainly don’t disagree with George Bailey’s guardian angel, Clarence Odbody, that  “no man is a failure who has friends”. But, friends can’t be everything. And, this isn’t 1946. Our culture supports things like individuation and a certain degree of selfishness when it comes to making choices about how to live your life. But, if you are even a little like George Bailey - that doesn’t always come easily.

This year, I found myself watching “It’s A Wonderful Life” with my analyst’s eye. Granted, I’ve watched this movie countless times and, I’m sure like many of you, got swept up in the compellingly simple message that a happy life isn’t about monetary riches but about the people in it; those we touch and who touch us. But, this time I was very clear. I wouldn’t want to be George Bailey. Nor would I help any of my patients to become like him.

No question – George is an admirable person.  He cares deeply and, as far back as childhood, has an unusual sensitivity to the feelings of others.  This is a wonderful thing. But, this quality also has its downside. If someone else needs something, George all too quickly gives up his plans and goals – his college education, his desire to strike out into his own life; even his honeymoon.

If we look at the movie closely (and not from its heart-warming, but idealized ending), things get worse and worse for George. He gets poorer - not to mention terribly depressed. No one can continually put aside everything they want, and expect to be happy. The frustration, anger, or hopelessness will build up; no matter how loving you might be.

Why would this happen? Why would you, or someone else, put other people consistently first, like George Bailey does? Is it because its been expected of you, or you’ve been told you are selfish (or worse) if you don’t? Maybe you feel you are doing something terribly wrong if you even think about saying, ‘No’.  Or, perhaps, you have to say, “Yes” – out of conviction that, if you don’t, you won’t be loved. That someone will be angry with you. And, never want to see you again.

What are the lessons in “It’s A Wonderful Life”? Sometimes others come first – and sometimes they can’t.  Strike a reasonable balance. You can’t be a happy, satisfied, optimistic person if you don’t think of yourself a good part of the time.

Clarence was right to show George what life would be without him; but I’d like to look at this in a slightly different way. George was absent from his own life – and he was worse off because of it. What he really needed to do – was to show up for himself. Don’t be too much like George Bailey; caring, yes. But not self-sacrificing. Just because your friends will step in, in a crisis – doesn’t mean that that’s enough.

DOES SIBLING RIVALRY EVER END?

Photo from  familymatters.net 2010

And Now It’s The Holidays . . .

In the 2006 film, 'The Holiday', Graham (Jude Law) is serving hot chocolate to his daughters, Sophie and Olivia. Sophie, the oldest, complains: “She has more marshmallows than me.”  Graham, the daddy, responds: “No, she doesn’t. You each have 5”. Turning to Amanda (Cameron Diaz), a grown woman, Graham quips: “You have 5 too.” Can it be that even grownups have sibling rivalry?

The question is – do sibling jealousies ever end? And, can they be a prototype for all rivalries in later life; even interfering with getting what you really want? Who would know better than Freud? Not only because he was the father of psychology and psychoanalysis. But, mostly because he was the oldest of eight children - all born in just ten years. 

Here’s what Freud said: “A child who has been put into second place by the birth of a brother or sister and who is now for the first time almost isolated from his mother, does not easily forgive her this loss of place . . .” 

There is no doubt that Freud understood the feeling of being pushed aside by a competitor. It happened to him year after year. Jealous feelings come up every day of the year – and not just for oldest children. The holidays, though, are a time when rivalry can run wild. Yes - even if you are an adult. 

Sound irrational? It’s not. There are plenty of old feelings lurking in those secret corners of your mind. Who gets the best present? Where do Mom or Dad spend more time?  You get the idea. If, early in life, you’ve felt pushed aside by a brother or sister, or two or three . . . the holidays certainly can bring painful reminders. Isn’t it all too easy to find ‘evidence’ that you are, or aren’t, the most special one? 

What happens to those feelings of jealousy and competition? Do you tell yourself, “That’s in the past”? Or, like many people – perhaps your early feelings of sibling rivalry may not be conscious. Yet, very likely they are still interfering with your life today - substituted by other people and different situations.  Situations involving things like love - job recognition - or how much money you make . . .

Does it seem like someone else always gets chosen over you? Do you have to go after what you want full force? Pushing competitors aside? Believing - if you don’t think of yourself, no one else will?  Or, do you quickly back out of the competition altogether; feeling no one will want you anyway? Do you feel like Sisyphus? Starting from scratch again and again. Because every time you try to get what you need – something (or someone) gets in the way. 

It might be hard to believe – but if the pickings seem too slim, maybe you are looking in the wrong place. Unknowingly repeating all too familiar situations from the past. Sometimes others do get more marshmallows. But, it doesn't mean they are better than you. Try to remember this: Although it might not have been this way in the past – there really is enough to go around. Make it your New Year’s resolution to open your mind to new possibilities.

SPEAKING OUT

Photo From Blog Post on Feronia Project Website 3/29/12

Hostile Act?  Or Not? 

I don’t agree with Joan Didion. It just doesn’t sit well with me that saying “This is what I think” is always an act of hostility. As much as I admire Didion for how she writes, I don’t think what she says about being a writer is true. Of course, she has a right to see things her own way. I even find her point of view interesting. And, I definitely thought about it. But, am I a bully for saying, “No. I see it my way. I hope you will, too”?

Here’s what Didion says: “In many ways the act of writing is the act of saying I, of imposing oneself upon other people, of saying listen to me, see it my way, change your mind. It’s an aggressive, even a hostile act.  You can disguise its aggressiveness all you want . . . but there’s no getting around the fact that setting words on paper is the tactic of a secret bully, an invasion, an imposition of the writer’s sensibility on the reader’s most private space.” (From, “Why I Write”, The Writer on Her Work, 1980, p. 17-18)   

Yes. Putting your thoughts out there and expecting to be heard is an act of aggression. But, is aggression the same as hostility?  What’s wrong with saying – listen to me, this is my idea, this is how I feel? Am I being hostile for disagreeing - and writing about it? Or do I simply have a different point of view? Is all aggression the same? I don’t think so.  

Let’s look at how Didion uses her aggression. Her strong point of view is clearly stated.  She owns it.  She doesn’t attack.  She simply says what she thinks.  She wants us to listen, to take her ideas seriously.  Yet, we aren’t forced to agree or change our minds. And, in putting her thoughts on the page – she leaves room for us to think, to react; to do what we want to with her words.

What Joan Didion offers – is an example of healthy aggression: the kind that registers, “I have a right to how I think. A right to exist.” Healthy aggression isn’t cruel. It presents an essential ‘I – ness’; a solidarity with yourself that is crucial for being real - for claiming what is yours.

It’s true. Some people do misuse their aggression for purposes of ridicule and control. That type of aggression is hostile. But, there’s a big difference between insultingly abusive verbal attacks – and saying what you think. Wanting someone to see it your way doesn’t make you a bully (as long as you don’t deny their equal right to an opinion of their own). We all want to be understood.  

So, I respectfully disagree with Joan Didion. But, I offer my opinion. No more. No less. My intention, as a writer and blogger, is not to overthrow anyone’s thoughts. If my words speak to something in you, spark your curiosity, or make you think - I have done my job. If you disagree, I’ll listen. It’s reasonable to say: “This is what I think.” Even – “this is what I want.” In fact, to be successful and happy – saying both is absolutely necessary. 

THE BOOK OF MORMON

Broadway Cast Performing 'Turn It Off' 2012

Turn Off Your Feelings Or Go To ‘Spooky Mormon Hell’? 

Matt Stone, Trey Parker, and Robert Lopez are truly the masters of irreverent farce. ‘The Book of Mormon’ is about as funny as it gets.  But, it is also - in the cleverly honest ways comedy has – a show that puts quite serious matters right ‘in your face’. And one serious matter is this: “Turning Off” your feelings isn’t funny. 

In my last post, on the Academy Award winning movie ‘The Artist’, I talked about feelings that are silenced by mocking internal voices that say “Don’t be a fool; you’ll just be hurt.” The ‘Book of Mormon’ song “Turn It Off” tells us something else that silences feelings: believing certain feelings are bad.

If you feel that way, you are living in your own version of ‘Mormon Hell’ – a place of terrible self-judgment.  To add to that hell, you probably believe other people are judging you, as well.  It’s so unbearable to feel that way – maybe you do what Elder McKinley does as he struggles with his gay feelings: “Turn It Off – like a light switch”.  Or, if that doesn’t work - “imagine that your brain is made of tiny boxes. And find the box that has that (‘curse of a feeling in it’) - and crush it!”  

More important, though, is why you have to use these methods to silence your feelings in the first place. It’s because you believe there’s something wrong with them. So wrong that a voice in your mind (not unlike the “The Spooky Mormon Hell Dream”) tells you - you are ‘worse than your own version of Ghenghis Khan, Adolph Hitler, and Jeffrey Dahmer’.  What do you do when you believe your feelings and thoughts are that bad? 

Probably you have no choice but to turn them off, dim them down, crush them, or lie to yourself about them.  Maybe there’s some truth to the idea - “it’s OK to have certain feelings if you don’t act on them”, as the song says. But, most feelings aren’t dangerous to others. Turning them off, though, is not at all good for you.  Nor is having to deny who you are to please someone else - or living up to a code of behavior that isn’t really you. Isn’t that it’s own kind of hell? 

What does it take to break free? It takes the kind of new, strong, and heartfelt belief that ‘The Book of Mormon’ ends with: There is nothing bad or sacrilegious about finding your own personal way of seeing things. Especially when it comes to defining who you are. Isn’t that what Elder McKinley needed?  Isn’t it what you (and I and everyone) need – the freedom to be openly yourself, with all of your feelings? Without the “Spooky Mormon Hell Dream” telling you – you are the worst of the worst if you do.  

THE ARTIST

George's Nightmare from 'The Artist' 2012

 

What Makes Change A Nightmare?

Change is scary to many of us. Often we don’t even know why. Surprisingly, perhaps, ‘The Artist’ is more than just a compelling homage to the silent film. ‘The Artist’ is an accurate portrayal of why change can be frightening for some; and, for others, like George Valentin, an absolute nightmare. What is it that makes change so frightening?

George’s terrifying dream tells us quite a lot. After George turns away from the Talkies, from Al Zimmer, from his future, and from change, he has this dream:  Everything in his dressing room makes a shattering sound. George is petrified. Mouthing: ‘What the hell?’ into the mirror - he has no voice. He is the only silent thing in the room. Mouths hovering above are talking and laughing - at him. George doesn’t yell for help.

George is used to living in a silent world. Not only the world of silent movies, but also of his feelings. We can see why in his dream. Voices inside his mind mock him if he even thinks about needing help. To George - needing help; needing people; opening up and talking about feelings – is humiliating.  Some of you, I’m sure, feel the same way. It isn’t easy to be open; to risk saying how you really feel. Voices in your mind, too, might tell you ‘it’s crazy’, ‘don’t make a fool of yourself’, ‘you’ll just be hurt’ – or something like that.

What happens if those voices get louder and louder when you even think of wanting someone, or something else?  Does a warning flash in your mind - ‘Keep those needs quiet’ - like the ‘See No Evil’, ‘Hear No Evil’, ‘Speak No Evil’ monkeys that appear at just those moments in ‘The Artist’? And, like George, do you tell yourself you’re just fine? You can take care of yourself. You don’t need anyone, really. But, it isn’t true for you – any more than it is for George.

In spite of voices that tell you otherwise, there are other feelings and needs that come right along anyway – unwanted and unexpected. Just like Peppy Miller. Who is ‘that girl’? She is everything George is afraid to let himself be - alive, open, not afraid of change, and disarmingly herself. She disturbs his protective shell. He feels something for the first time.  Can he let himself? Not so easily.

George does what many frightened people do. He runs away. He drinks. He is terrified of opening up. He expects to be hurt, and when he is, he attacks himself: “Stupid! loser!”  The voices that mock his need for help and love almost win. Especially when he discovers how much he needs Peppy.

But, something hopeful remains – like the one movie he saves (dancing with Peppy). Once George begins to see that needing help, and love, is not a weakness – he can change. And, not only does he dance again with Peppy, he talks. He no longer lives in a world of silenced feelings. Most importantly, George proves those mocking voices wrong.

GLOBUS HYSTERICUS

The Lump In Your Throat That Is Not 'Just In Your Head'… 

 Sigmund Freud by Sidney Chafetz

You feel it. You really do. The lump moves up your esophagus and stops short. Something is stuck in your throat – leaving you with frightening thoughts: ‘Is this lump blocking my airway? Will it choke me?  Do I have cancer?’  In all likelihood, your doctor will tell you there is no physical cause. Still, the lump is real.  It’s just not what you think.

That lump in your throat is known by two different medical terms: Cricopharyngeous spasm and Globus Hystericus. Some say it is “stress related”. And, it is. But, when there is no organic cause, some misinformed doctors, or friends, might pass it off as, “made up”,  “bogus” or “just in your head”. Don’t believe them.  The lump in your throat is much more complicated than that. It’s a symptom. An emotional symptom – a lump of unexpressed feeling - converted into a physical sensation.

Neuroscientists and neurologists are beginning to take seriously that these physical sensations are quite real and not imagined. (Newsweek Daily Beast, November 28, 2011) The original diagnostic name was conversion hysteria, dating back to the days of Freud and his cohorts, Charcot and Breuer; hence, the “Hystericus” in Globus Hystericus. Hysteria, in the public arena, has a bad name. It arouses visions of overly dramatized emotional reactions. Even worse – putting on a show for attention. Really, though, the basis for hysteria is something quite different: anxiety.

Yes, Globus is an anxiety reaction. But, defining something as ‘anxiety’ is a catchall phrase that says nothing about the person who is suffering. Anxiety, like Globus, is a symptom. Freud understood symptoms in an interesting way.  As a compromise between two different parts of your mind: One that wants to openly communicate a feeling. The other that says something like: ‘That’s stupid, weak, or unacceptable’– and bars the feeling from your awareness. These opposing parts have no choice but to make a deal. They ‘agree’ on a form of expression that isn’t the real thing. A symptom. The symptom conveys the feeling, but in a disguised way. So, what could that lump in your throat be trying to say? 

You all know the expression: “I have a lump in my throat” when you feel like crying and can’t. It’s, also, pretty common to choke back angry words. What, then, might be involved in the onset of Globus?   Something happens that stirs up old feelings – feelings you probably aren’t aware of. A loss is re-experienced; one that happened long ago. It could be the death of a parent; a parent leaving; feeling less favored than a sibling; or other early deprivations that made you feel unwanted or left out. The feelings of sadness and anger surrounding these old losses have been pushed aside; the loss left not fully mourned. 

When feelings have no place to go and no one to hear them, they are put in that category of  ‘unacceptable’. If they try to come out and are stopped – they get stuck. So – the lump in your throat that won’t go away, but has no medical diagnosis? Don’t let anyone, including you; write it off as ‘nothing’.  Think about what was happening before you first realized it was there. Did something make you sad?  Did you feel abandoned? Pushed aside? Angry? If you aren’t sure, and the troubling lump persists – consider seeing a therapist. You might be surprised. When therapy helps you replace the symptom with the real feelings behind it - that lump in your throat no longer has a reason to exist.