Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Great Mental Disconnect

Spent some time reading this article about Paul Haggis leaving Scientology.  As with my last post that concerned religion, I am not going to discuss the merits of the religion, but some of the other issues the article brought forth.

One of the things that Haggis talked about was how he would feel bad and like nothing was changing, or very little was, but he still kept acting like everything was fine.  From the article:

Since resigning, Haggis had been wondering why it took him so long to leave. In an e-mail exchange, I noted that higher-level Scientologists are supposed to be free of neuroses and allergies, and resistant to the common cold. “Dianetics” also promises heightened powers of intelligence and perception. Haggis had told me that he fell far short of this goal. “Did you feel it was your fault?” I asked. Haggis responded that, because the auditing took place over a number of years, it was easy to believe that he might actually be smarter and wiser because of it, just as that might be true after years of therapy. “It is all so subjective, how is one supposed to know?” he wrote. “How does it feel to be smarter today than you were two months ago? . . . But yes, I always felt false.”

He noted that a Scientologist hearing this would feel, with some justification, that he had misled his auditors about his progress. But, after hundreds of hours of auditing sessions, he said, “I remember feeling I just wanted it over. I felt it wasn’t working, and figured that could be my fault, but did not want the hours of ‘repair auditing’ that they would tell me I needed to fix it. So I just went along, to my shame. I did what was easy . . . without asking them, or myself, any hard questions." PROFILES, “THE APOSTATE,” THE NEW YORKER, FEBRUARY 14, 2011, P. 84

The core issue here is how he knew this wasn't working, that the thing he was supposed to be experiencing wasn't happening, but he went on along with the program, pretending that it did.  This struck a chord with me because it's something I've done myself and have watched others do over the years.

Humans have a lot of frustrations in life, but one of the key ones seems to be the disconnect between what should be working and what really is.  What Haggis described about his own experiences with religion and enlightenment is something many people go through. People commit to a faith, they start a diet or an AA program, they read self-help books . . . so so many things that seem to work for other people, but somehow don't work for them. There is a lot of failure and shame that grows from this.

And maybe that's why so many of us lie about it.  We pretend to be making progress, when, really, we're just completely confused and have no idea what is happening. We watch others and see the whatever program working for them, and we start to wonder one of three things.

  1. Is there something I am missing here? Was there a step we didn't get or a pattern that someone else grasp hold of that we somehow didn't catch.

    The danger in this idea is that we begin to desperately try and play catch up. We often wear ourselves out with participating in whatever activities our program has going for it. Often we will find ourselves pouring money or time we really can't afford to lose into activities, hoping this will make it happen.

    When I was trying to learn to knit for the first time, I bought some needles and set out to knit.  I could crochet, so surely this couldn't be that hard.  It didn't work at all.  So I started buying more things. I bought How To books and more needles (I think with the idea that the ones I had wouldn't work for me), I even bought more yarn (I can't even remember the logic behind that one). But even with all of the new and nifty things, I still couldn't knit.

    It wasn't until I sat down, with the promise to myself that I WOULD LEARN THIS and studied an online guide, a knitting for dumbies, and and I think a couple of other things all at once, that I finally understood the process.

    In the end I realized that it wasn't the money or the time spent in frustration that got me to understand this, it was calming myself down and having the concentration to actually process what I was supposed to do.
  2. Is there something just wrong with me that I can't make this work?

    Often if we make this assumption, we begin to question our own abilities for self improvement.  Instead of blaming the program, we assume that all failure rests in us.

    The danger with this is that it can lead vulnerable people into an even worse headspace. We begin to feel that failing is all we can do. We look at those around us who seem to be making this program work for them and wonder why we are doomed to never achieve what they have found.

    I think the best personal example I can give here is my weight issues.  Like most fat people, I've spent almost my whole life on a diet of some sort.  Probably MOST diets, really.  I try them, I fall off of them, I think I'm a failure, I eat more, and then I usually decide I am doomed to never be healthy and go back to eating whatever I want.

    One of my active goals in therapy right now has to do with breaking this pattern. I think one of the most important statements I ever made was when I finally stopped babbling about my weight loss goals and admitted that I didn't think I really COULD lose weight.  My therapist seemed pleased with this and told me that I could, but it was going to take some time for me to realize this.  And I still haven't. It's some big magical thing that will never happen to me right now.  But I have faith that our next series of sessions will help me to change that thinking.
  3. This seems to be working for everyone else, but are they faking it?

    The danger in this is basic and rather primal distrust. If everyone else is faking, then everyone else is lying . . . to themselves, and to us.  While a healthy level of skepticism is always a good thing, in terms of any process where we are trying to better our lives, having no one to trust makes this very difficult. We find ourselves closed off to everyone else in the program.  After a while, we lose all reason for even wanting to continue.

    When I was in grad school, I took a class over advanced educational theories.  Several of us had time to burn between classes and we'd sit out in the lounge and talk.  As the class progressed, I noticed that we stopped talking. We would withdraw from each other, even though we still sat in the same places.  We would read quietly or . . . well, okay, I think I would doodle or read comic books.

    I knew I was maybe a little in over my head in the class. It was theory I'd never dealt with before and I was having some trouble understanding it. I self-identify as a smart person, so this was pissing me off. It was also really making me resent these other people, who I suspected didn't understand this any better than I did, but pretended like they did, the losers!

    One night though, one of the other women sat down in her usual place and looked at the rest of us, "Okay, look," she said. "I have read chapter 17 three times now. I have no idea what this person is talking about."

    It was so freeing! I had no idea either! No one did!

    We started working through the chapter, picking it apart piece by piece, and finally grasped the whole theory.  Afterward, we discussed our distance and frustrations.  Actually, we basically all did this rapid fire confession of it. We were so relieved by the fact that everyone else was as confused as we were. 
We hate, we LOATHE to admit that we don't understand things, that we don't get it, that it isn't working for us.  We will go through such great lengths to fake out the process, to hide our fears and confusion, to make it look like we know what is going on.

Let me tell you though, admitting to failure and idiocy? It can be quite freeing.  Accepting the fact that you have no earthly clue what is happening?  This is very liberating. We risk so much embarrassment in admitting our failings and mistakes, but it is so worth admitting to.

One of the most powerful quotes I ever read was this:

“Each of us has the right and the responsibility to asses the road which lie ahead and those over which we have traveled, and if the feature road looms ominous or unpromising, and the road back uninviting-inviting, then we need to gather our resolve and carrying only the necessary baggage, step off that road into another direction. If the new choice is also unpalatable, without embarrassment, we must be ready to change that one as well.” - Maya Angelou 

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