Learning what one is and is not by Dr Elizabeth McCardell, M. Couns., PhD
A boy was born thirty or fifty or one hundred years ago to a woman who
had lost her parents in tragic circumstances. This little boy was very much
loved, but his mother would not leave him alone, always checking on him,
checking to see if he was alright, checking to see if he was hungry or thirsty,
or in pain, or whether something was missing – a toy perhaps, or a blanket –
checking that everything in his life was in order. The little boy did not know
privacy, nor even the concept of privacy, for himself or anybody else. His
mother came into his room all the time, checking on him, asking questions,
demanding the “truth” as she saw it, and he felt compelled to please her. He
saw that she was angry, but didn’t know why. The little boy never knew what he was, and what he was not,
nor did he know what his mother was and what she was not, and where other
people and he began and ended. In
essence he did not grow into a self identifiable to himself, and himself alone.
It took many years to realize the notion of privacy, and it came a cost.
He got into trouble, but, interestingly, although not surprisingly, he became,
from that point, very jealous of his own space. Obsessively so. Everything in
his place had to be kept clean and untainted by the lingering presence of another
person, his clothes had to be washed after visiting other people, his furniture
had to be taken outside and scrubbed down if anyone else had touched it; his
place was his place. Still, though, his mother came and entered his place,
still telling him what to do, to think, to eat. His life outside his mother’s
presence was indeterminate and a bit chaotic, because he still didn’t really
know who he was. He was getting older, but still trapped in that purgatory of
undifferentiation.
A girl, born twenty or sixty or two hundred years ago to a woman who was
dislocated from her family by war, thrown out of sync with usual ordinary
things, develops severe asthma and needs, according to her parents, constant
monitoring. She was never left alone. All the little girl knew was struggling
to breath. The more she struggled, the tighter the parental vigilance and
control of her life. Literally, there was no air to breathe.
smothersmothersmothersmothersmother
It is critical that children find their own feet. For sure, support and
security is essential, indeed critical for human and animal development.
Without security and support a little infant does not develop confidence to
venture out into the world without intense anxiety. This is the principle of
attachment theory as described by John Bowlby (1907-1990). Security and
support, and low levels of caregiver anxiety, where a crying infant is attended
to straight away, gives the little one a sense that it is safe to simply be him
or herself, in process of self differentiation. The process of self
differentiation (learning what one is and
is not responsible for) is in turn, the development of emotional
intelligence.
Depression, anxiety, certain psychosomatic disorders, and obsessive
compulsive disorders are associated with not being able to determine the
boundary between oneself and others, as well as knowing that the mind of others
cannot be completely known and is not one’s own, though an empathy with them is
possible. In these conditions, ambiguity is not tolerated and conclusions about
things is fitted, far too quickly, into a familiar account of things, even
though a non-differentiated state is an ambiguous one. The familiar account of
things can be the stories of family, culture, and personal experience that has
become ingrained, and offers some sense of security. For example, the person who says, “I can’t have a normal
relationship because I am always rejected,” stymies themselves right from the
word go by the story they have. “I will be rejected because I am always
rejected.” But, really, maybe it
isn’t so.
When we develop a capacity to look at our circumstances by gathering and
discriminating and weighing up other explanations for what we have hitherto
assumed to be true, we can begin to untangle assumptions about our world and
work out where we individually stand on matters concerning ourselves.
Untangling our accounts of things as we know them, is part of the process of increasing
emotional intelligence and lowering our propensity for depressive illness. Such
a process also loosens us from our past.
Learning what one is and is not is the basis of discovering our
uniqueness and celebrating it. Learning what one is and is not is a work that
continues throughout life. Mothers and sons and daughters, of whatever age can
engage in developing this knowledge, for what used to be a condition of the
past doesn’t need to continue to be a condition of the present. Nothing is set
in stone. This is where therapy
becomes very useful indeed. I am, and you are.
