In 1905 or so, someone wrote a book on the so-called Psychopathology of Everyday Life. He wrote of slips of the tongue, equally curious slips of the pen. The author was less than 50, then, but he wrote of lapses in the memory system ... the forgetting of names, of events and of the misremembering of childhood events. False Memory Syndrome was the rage in the 1990's but had already been the focus of this doctor from Vienna, as was the common witnessing of superstition-based behaviors. We still think nothing of the professional athlete or the adoring fan that "needs to wear" special socks or a charmed hat in order for success to be imaginable for "their side.".
Nothing about these curious or pathological behaviors has changed and, still, it occurs to me that by the time we reach Medicare eligibility we have seen and experienced and survived everyday occurrences which have required a degree of dignity and fortitude that is -- if nothing else -- heartening and indicative of a certain -- again the same word comes up -- dignity to the manner in which we live our lives.
Among those with whom I have had the opportunity to learn of their earlier lives are such folk who manage to wake up each morning in spite of histories of the types of interferences that would make any tree grow bent so as to appear near falling at any moment. The metaphor, I suppose, relates to a Willow Tree that leans, apparently whose 60 foot splendor is poised to fall on my office in any storm ... though it has remained standing in that position for many years.
Whether the abuse was from experiencing war as a combatant, civilian casualty, refugee or camp-detainee ... whether the abuse occurred in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood .... whether it was physical, psychological or sexual (as in "both") .... the distortions of growth may appear in a variety of types and subtypes, but I'm moved to address but one of these solutions to having been whacked by the World ... and, by the way, it is my sense that no one makes it to the age of three without taking their share of such blows. Those reading this, as youngsters were likely exposed to the poetic character sketches of Edwin Arlington Robinson ... folk like Richard Cory and Miniver Cheevey who suffered in life and grew-twisted into suicides or alcoholics. If you haven't read Robinson's poesy , I recommend it.
In any case, I'm thinking this morning of those individuals -- of that "type" -- who live by the principle: "Do unto others as has been done unto you." Victims who become acting-out perpetrators. The molested who grow into molesters. The bullied who finds their way into a life of bullying. But what I want to point out is the existence of two subtypes ... let me call them the Active and the Passive.
It was but a few days ago that a kidnapper and molester, after accepting a plea agreement which included a life sentence in jail, argued that he was no monster but a kind musician and good Soul who became addicted to masturbation and pornography after being abused, himself, as a child. And while it's hard to feel sorry for him and, arguably, a blessing that he will be separated from civil society or that civil society will be safely separated from him, I could not help myself from feeling sad for this man who destroyed the lives of many, including his own. Subsequent to abuse, there develops a sort of cleavage in the personality ... with one part separated off from the abuse that appears strong and dominates another part that remains the destroyed or absent victim.
This cleavage ... this splitting ... is well-portrayed in a film about two brothers growing up with an alcoholic step-father (Red Flyer is the name of the film, I think) ... one who is beaten and one spared. In the story, the beaten one escapes by flying away in his Red Flyer wagon rigged for flight in the sky ... never to be seen, again ... to be heard from years later by postcard. The other son appears to grow normally to adulthood, fatherhood, and success. Interestingly, it is not until the end that the Writer-Director drops a hint that there was, in reality, only one child. Indeed, in the rambling apology offered by Ariel Castro, we hear both parts of this split ... the boastful man who talks of his accomplishments, including his making of a harmonious family from the three youngsters whom he held hostage for a decade ... And then there was the tearful victim who was molested, himself, in childhood.
The Passive type is quite different. Instead of becoming an Active "in-kind" abuser of others, this one is forever accusing others of abusing them. These are the victims who malign those near and dear to them and are not infrequently envious of both the near and the far. They are forever comparing theit own victim-hood and pain with that of others.
"No one has suffered like me."
"How could you know what it's like for me?"
Each time someone points out some instance of their unkind behavior, the Other is seen as attacking and being gratuitously nasty or mean-spirited.
"How could you say that to me knowing the ways I've suffered."
Given a choice? I would cavort with neither the Active type who becomes the "perp" or the Passive type who can only see themselves in that role.
And I cannot say whether or not by the Last Quarter my fellow journey-folk have typically found that spot where they recognize that, indeed, no one has attained maturity without their share of scrapes and bruises.
(Oy! rereading this was not cotton candy and a walk in the park! ... Sorry!)
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