The Truth. Neil StraussЧитать онлайн книгу.
way to recognize when you’re stuck in your own story is whenever you feel less than or better than others.
You can examine this chart …
| Wounded Child (emotionally 0– 5) | Adapted Adolescent (emotionally 6–18) | Functional Adult (emotionally mature) |
| Worthless | Arrogant | Esteemed from Within |
| Extremely Vulnerable | Invulnerable | Healthy Boundaries |
| Extremely Needy | Needless | Communicates Needs |
| Feels Bad / Naughty | Feels Blameless / Perfect | Honest and Self-Aware |
| Out of Control | Hypercontrolling | Flexible and Moderate |
| Fears Abandonment | Fears Suffocation | Interdependent |
| Seeks Attention | Seeks Intensity | Lives in Integrity and Harmony |
| Idealizes Caretakers/Partners | Disillusioned by Caretakers/Partners | In Reality About Caretakers/Partners |
Then ask yourself: In a given week, do you exhibit any of the wounded child or adolescent behaviors here? If so, you may have either gotten stuck somewhere along the way in your emotional or behavioral development, or certain situations are causing you to revert to those ages.
Any time you overreact to something—by shutting down, losing your temper, sulking, feeling hopeless, freaking out, disassociating, or any of numerous other dysfunctional behaviors—it’s typically because an old wound has been triggered. And you’re regressing to the childhood or adolescent state that corresponds to that feeling.
Note that the wounded child tends to directly internalize the messages that caretakers give; the adapted adolescent tends to react against them.
However, not everyone reacts to the same trauma in the same way …
And children are born with different predispositions and resiliencies. So if you remain loyal to people who abuse and mistreat you, that’s called trauma bonding.
If you only feel normal if you’re doing something extreme or high-risk, that’s trauma arousal.
If you’ve developed intense self-loathing, you’ve got trauma shame.
If you find chemical, mental, or technological ways to numb yourself and your feelings, that’s trauma blocking.
And it goes on and on. One pattern of trauma; many different possible responses to it. We’ve only scratched the surface. But at least you know the model we’re working with here.
It’s not about blaming but understanding …
In summary, we each spend our adult lives running on a unique operating system that took some eighteen years to program and is full of distinct bugs and viruses. And when we put together all these different theories of attachment, developmental immaturity, post-traumatic stress, and internal family systems, they make up a body of knowledge that allows us to run a virus scan on ourselves and, at any point, to look at our behaviors, our thoughts, and our feelings, and figure out where they come from.
That’s the easy part. The tough part is to quarantine the virus, and to recognize the false self and restore the true self. Because it isn’t until we start developing an honest, compassionate, and functional relationship with ourselves that we can begin to experience a healthy, loving relationship with others.
“And that,” Lorraine concludes, “is what chair work is all about.”
At the Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous meeting that night, Carrie plops down on the sofa next to me, her bare arm resting gently against mine. I move my arm away. This is the new me.
“I can’t believe that bitch still won’t let you talk to me,” she says.
“It’s for your own safety. I’m too dangerous for women.”
Charles, who’s sitting across from me, makes a slashing motion over his neck. He’s right. Even that little is too much. I leave the room, return a few moments later, and sit somewhere else. Although it seems like a sensible thing to do and respectful of Ingrid, this kind of distant, uninterested behavior is probably only going to make Carrie like me more. This is, until she hears my check-in.
“I broke my contract Sunday morning,” I confess when my turn comes. “I feel weird saying this in front of everyone, but I masturbated. I just woke up in a certain condition and couldn’t help myself.”
The words ring in my head: “I couldn’t help myself.” That sounds exactly like something an addict would say. To reassure myself, I ask if anyone else has masturbated.
There’s total silence and then one hand sheepishly rises. “I have,” Calvin whispers.
Suddenly, I’m the most out-of-control sex addict in the room. Calvin was probably masturbating about his picnic. “I realized afterward,” I continue, “that I was masturbating because I was terrified of my girlfriend coming to visit. However, it turned out to be incredible having her here, and it made me want to take my recovery more seriously and become a better person.”
As we walk out of the lounge after the meeting, Charles falls into step with me. “Let me give you some advice so you don’t break your contract again,” he says. “Believe, behave, become: Believe in you and Ingrid. Behave for Ingrid. Become a nuclear family.”
It’s good advice. The three steps.
“If you ever decide to admit you’re powerless over your addiction, you can look me up in L.A. when you leave,” he continues magnanimously. “I can get you into a private therapy group with one of the best CSATs in L.A.”
Evidently I said the right thing in today’s meeting. I decide to ask him how he relapsed, since he shared the details of his story with the group before I arrived. “I was in New Zealand, where prostitution is legal,” he answers. His voice is melancholy, yet despite himself, a guilty smile creeps across his face. Joan calls this euphoric recall. “And I ended up going to this place where they had a menu of services and had a threesome with two very attractive women for four hundred and fifty dollars.”
We stand silently at the edge of the dormitory for a moment, both dialing up the visual, a crack of desire appearing in Charles’s austerity. “And that was bad,” I say. “Very bad.”
“Yeah, very bad.”
That night, I dream that Ingrid and I are in a hotel room in Las Vegas with a priest we’re paying by the hour.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the priest says.
As soon as the words leave his lips, a cold shroud of fear envelops me. Something irreversible has taken place in just seconds and I’m overcome with regret because I know I can’t reciprocate what Ingrid feels. I wake up with a sense of doom hanging over my head.
Charles’s words ring in my head: “Become a nuclear family.”
What’s so great about a nuclear family? I wonder, before I can stop myself. All the word nuclear makes me feel is a fear of annihilation.
Chicago, Twenty-Three Years Earlier
Ring. Ring.
Hello.
Is Todd there?
It’s a girl calling for my younger brother. They always call for him. Never for me.
No, he’s out.
This is Rachel.
Hey.
I’m with Julia and we were calling to invite him over. We’re having a special