Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116
People with alexithymia typically display a lack of imaginative thought, have difficulty distinguishing between emotions and bodily sensations, and engage in logical externally oriented thought. Individuals with high levels of alexithymia are usually aware of their emotional arousal; however, they have difficulty differentiating emotions and verbalizing them.
John S. Ogrodniczuk et al., The American Journal of Psychotherapy
Self-sacrifice? But it is precisely the self that cannot and must not be sacrificed.
Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
Lester thrusts his face directly into a steaming hot shower. ANGLE from outside the shower: Lester’s naked body is silhouetted through the fogged-up glass door. It becomes apparent he is masturbating. Lester (amused): „Look at me, jerking off in the shower. (then) This will be the high point of my day. It’s all downhill from here…“
Lester Burnham, American Beauty
The Webster Merriam Dictionary defines Alexithymia as „the inability to identify and express or describe one’s feelings“.
From my own inner work and my continued work as a Transformation Coach — specifically with men— I recognise that this is a very common phenomenon. In contrast to many of the female clients who work with me, men often seem to have great difficulty in ascertaining what they are feeling, how feelings impact them, and how best to deal with them.
In this week’s Gestalt Training session with Dr Allen Berger and Roger Andes, this inability to identify what is going on within, and the resulting „acting out“ were major topics.
A case was described whereby a struggling client — a very successful man by all the criteria of our society; self-made millionaire, respected in the community, handsome, fit & healthy, seemingly intact family life, vibrant social network, etc. — was having difficulties in his „empty nest“ marriage because he felt that his wife was not displaying sufficient willingness to have sex with him whenever he (apparently often) wanted.
„Oh boy! „, I thought, „this is not new to me.“
Thinking back to my VIP (Very Important Patrick) days, when I was proud of the fact that my average working week surpassed sixty hours, when, as an executive in a multi-national corporation, I racked up many hundred thousand air miles, it was clear to me that I, too, had fallen prey to the „sacrifice indulge syndrome“. My sacrifice, offered on the alter of establishing financial security for my young family, was of a transactional nature.
I’ll do this so that, in return, I’ll get that. And the „that“, in my case, also included „sex on demand“, regardless of how my wife (now ex-wife) was feeling at any given moment. This seems to be a common trait among men.
In fact, those of us who grew up in families characterised by addiction, dysfunction, and chaos, graduated in manipulation from the best available universities. Because such families do not exhibit healthy norms such as clear communication, drawing healthy boundaries, and engaging in conflict in a constructive manner, manipulation becomes the main currency of human interaction.
Like the fish who, when asked by a passerby: „How’s the water? “ simply shrugged and replied: „What water?“, we remain completely unaware of our manipulative modus operandi until it is pointed out to us.
There is a passage in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous (first published in 1938) which addresses this issue. Describing an example of self-will running riot, it says: Each person is like an actor who wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the lights, the ballet, the scenery, and the rest of the players in his own way.
If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people would do as he wished, the show would be great . Everybody, including himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous. He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and self–sacrificing.
On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical, selfish, and dishonest. But , as with most humans, he is more likely to have varied traits.
What usually happens? The show doesn’t come off very well. He begins to think life doesn’t treat him right. He decides to exert himself more. He becomes, on the next occasion, still more demanding or gracious, as the case may be. Still the play does not suit him. Admitting he may be somewhat at fault, he is sure that other people are more to blame. He becomes angry, indignant, self–pitying.
Angry, indignant, self–pitying: These adjectives aptly describe the client being discussed in our supervision session. But he can’t yet see this. He believes that he has made considerable sacrifices in life „for the love of his family“ and that it is only natural that his wishes, his desires, in this case his lust, be indulged without question.
Well, that’s not going to work out very well, is it? The things he has been doing for his family are, in themselves not „bad things“. The trouble is that he has been doing them for all the wrong reasons. He has developed a sense of entitlement. His body language exudes: „You owe me!“
In my own case, — and here I have to chuckle when looking back — when I came into the rooms of recovery, I sat around waiting for my reward, figuring that I had done my part in quitting the drugs — including alcohol — and expecting to be benighted by a life of happiness and success in return. Thankfully, the folks around me had patience and a robust sense of humour, consistently encouraging me to „keep coming back!“
As Dr Allen Berger pointed out in our discussion on Saturday, the best way to kill sexual desire is to demand sex. Nobody is going to engage in sex that is not worth having.
In fact, even having successfully browbeaten his wife into having sex, the man was not actually having sex with her, but rather with his „reflected sense of self“. He may, even, have simply been letting off steam, like Lester Burnham in that wonderful movie scene.
In our formative — especially preverbal —years, our sense of self is what we pick up in the responses which come from those around us. If these are predominantly loving, we experience ourselves as loving, as worthy. If , however, they are oftentimes dismissive, we seek the cause within ourselves and begin to view ourselves as not good enough, as unworthy of love.
This is a perfectly natural stage in the unfolding of life. A time comes, however, in the healthy development of all children when we undergo an important shift. We, ourselves, take over the responsibility for our sense of self, independent of how others respond to us. This shift usually begins in earnest during our teen years.
In unhealthy family settings, however, it may take much longer or never happen at all. Many adults live in a mode of emotional dependencies which constricts their life in many important ways. We do not develop a sense of agency and healthy independence. Our sense of worth remains dependent on things working out well for us, of people liking us, of a benign set of life circumstances.
In such scenarios we are living on thin ice. Things do not always turn out well. It is not natural for everybody to like us. Life throws up challenges which can be very painful such as ill health, divorces, the death of loved ones, and, of course, our own final departure from this incarnation.
Only a person with a healthy sense of self, the True Self, can navigate life on life’s terms and continue to heal, grow, and thrive in the process.
In the words of ACA — a Twelve Step Fellowship for people wishing to recover from the experience of growing up in dysfunctional families, which emerged from AA and AlAnon in the late 1970’s — such dysfunctional families are characterised by the manta: „Don’t talk, don’t trust, don’t feel!“
Here we will look at the latter element. We learn not to feel because feeling was so painful for the growing child. Whatever it was we were feeling — the pain of abandonment, unworthiness, of being a burden to our parents, of actual abuse, etc. — was too much to bear. Seen in this light, the ensuing alexithymia saved our lives.
As is so often the case, however, the life jacket which saved me at age five is the same one that suffocates me at age twenty-five, forty-five, or sixty-five.
As Rokelle Lerner writes in her beautiful „Affirmations for the Inner Child“: While I was growing up my parents did not express their feelings in clear and responsible ways. I learned to hide or mislabel my emotions. I felt anger when I was scared and sadness when I was angry.
In recovery, I am learning to express my feelings honestly. If I am angry with a friend, I express my feelings with an angry tone of voice. I describe their behaviour and my feelings without blaming. If I am angry with someone I do not trust, I express my feelings privately. If I am sad, I may phone a friend and ask for comfort or I may play sad music and cry as long as I need to. If I am happy, I may smile broadly or laugh aloud. Today, I will feel my true feelings and express them appropriately.
Our inability to feel is encouraged by our society which confuses beliefs and feelings. „Neglected“, for example, is not a feeling. It is a belief, beneath which we may find feelings such as sadness, rage, or shame.
Since we never learned the language of feelings in our family of origin, we may have to wait for desperation and/or good fortune to move us towards a second adult education opportunity. The rooms of Twelve Step recovery coupled with on-going psychotherapy have been my training ground in this respect.
If we are, as adults, still caught up in trying to manage other people in an effort to manage — to make tolerable — our reflected sense of self, sex becomes an act of mere performance or validation rather than a possible source of true giving, of joy, and pure intimacy.
A man who has made it to sixty and, like the fish, replies „What water?“ has a long road of recovery ahead. It encompasses identifying his perception disorder, dropping the attempt to control others in the service of maintaining the False Self, and stepping into responsibility for his sense of self, the True Self.
This involves ipso facto a return to the body (we have been living in our heads for decades), and an awakening of the heart — Latin „cor“, the seat of courage — the courage to relinquish the comfort zone which not only diminishes our comfort but extracts a very high price for our continued bondage therein.
The way to discovering our feeling is through befriending and getting to know our body. „Where do you feel this right now?“ „Can you describe how that feels in your body?“ These are questions which come up repeatedly in my coaching sessions.
Furthermore, all manner of self-care behaviours are essential for the process to successfully unfold. A sound sleep pattern, daily exercise in the fresh air, wholesome, healthy food, Mental Fitness practice and meditation, a supportive network of family, friends, fellows, and, as needed, professional help — these all contribute to the re-membering of our bodies as we heal and grow.
In my own case, it was the fear of any feelings which kept me numb for so long. The image I carried around for decades was that of an enormity of feelings dammed up like a reservoir in the mountains. My fear was that if I went anywhere near it or, God forbid, poked a finger in the dam, it would all come crashing down and obliterate me.
The irony of the fact that I was getting obliterated every weekend — while „partying“ (work hard, play hard!) — was lost on me.
Recovery has taught me that feelings are simply feelings. They are important input for discerning the next step and deserve my attention. However, they often do not line up with reality. Even today, I sometimes feel unsafe, existentially threatened, though when I look at the reality of the present moment, it is obvious that I am safe, truly safe, here and now. This is an example of the phenomenon of „living in the echo chamber of my childhood“.
A combination of Emotional Sobriety and Mental Fitness enables me to be present in the present moment with all the feelings, thoughts, and emotions which are part of the Human Condition, without reacting impulsively to every stimulus that comes my way. I can now live a „response-able“ life, a life rich beyond my wildest dreams.
