234. consanguinity

“When people experience trauma, they feel bad; children, in particular, think they are bad when they feel bad. Chronic bottom-up dysregulation and distress lead to negative identifications, beliefs, and judgments about ourselves.”
—L. Heller and A. LaPierre, “Healing Developmental Trauma.”

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Unlike previous years, at least since I became an atheist, Christmas this year wasn’t the depressive shit show that it has is. Usually, I lock myself away, alone, hating the entire world for being so festive. I did decide against being with my family for the holidays, choosing instead to spend it with friends and family of friends.

One of my early anxieties about therapy was the fear that it would dislodge all of the toxic dark matter packed into my subconscious. Worse, that I’d end up in a psychiatric hospital. Thankfully, that hasn’t happened. Yet these anxieties have been present even when working with my current therapist, although I’m finding that it doesn’t need to be that way.

The past few days I’ve been getting back into Healing Developmental Trauma, the book I referenced in a blog post a few weeks ago, taking it in slowly and thinking. A lot of what I’ve been reading has triggered various memories and feelings—good, but unsettling.

“To regulate the nervous system, it is more effective to work consistently with the organized “adult” aspects of the self in order to integrate the disorganized, regressed “child” aspects.” (22)

So I’m learning to live more in the present instead of the past, and to listen more to my body through things like yoga and mindfulness. I’m currently in the chapter on the Connection Survival Style. Right away I was hit with this opening paragraph:

“As a result of the earliest trauma, individuals with the Connection Survival Style have disconnected from their bodies, from themselves, and from relationship… To manage the pain of early trauma, some individuals disconnect from their bodies and live in their minds… when asked what they are feeling in their body, [they] find the question challenging, anxiety producing, and often impossible to answer.” (37)

I ran into the latter part of this description a month or two ago at yoga when my teacher asked at the beginning of class what we’re feeling in our physical and emotional bodies. Admittedly, this was before I’d had any coffee so it was already hard enough to think, but so often I turn up a complete blank when asking myself this question: “What are you feeling?”

According to Heller, the compromised core expression for this survival style is: “I am… I have a right to be.” He also lists some of the associated “shame-based identifications”:

• Terrified and inadequate
• Shame at existing
• Feeling like they never fit in
• Feeling like they are always on the outside looking in
• Burden on others

A real-world example of this was two Sundays ago when my car broke down. The average quote from a few shops within the free AAA towing range was $350. Aside from borrowing a car to get to band practice, I’ve been mostly homebound for the last two weeks.

You could insert a joke about men never asking for help, but in my case there is a great deal of anxiety in doing so, or in feeling needy. When I was subsisting largely on unemployment last year while job searching, I felt incredibly embarrassed and humiliated. I didn’t want to see anyone for fear that they’d ask what I did for a living.

This also meant that for the past two weeks I haven’t been to yoga, which has been a huge stress-reliever for me, both in the exercise and in the community. I didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride there as I live about twenty-five minutes south of the studio, didn’t want to be a burden on anyone (I almost wrote “unnecessary burden” just now), and didn’t want anyone looking at me as a failure because I couldn’t afford to fix my car.

But the truth is, I don’t feel worthy of help, that it’s selfish to ask, that there are others more deserving, that I’m less if I require assistance. It was a shock when people actually showed up to help me move in May, or to my birthday party… hell, whenever people are excited to see me! These feelings run deep into the core of how I see myself as a person.

Heller goes on in this chapter to describe some of the behavioral characteristics of this type (I’ll list just a few that particularly describe me):

• Use interpersonal distancing as a substitute for adequate boundaries.
• Withdraw in emotionally disturbing situations.
• Tend to relate in an intellectual rather than a feeling manner.
• Seldom aware that they are out of touch with their bodies.
• Feel like a frightened child in an adult world; do not know how to deal with or appropriately manipulate their environment.
• Strong need to control self, environment, and other people.

I have a distinct memory from around age eleven or twelve of being in the car with my family, and for whatever reason feeling disappointed and angry with my dad, and deciding that from that moment on I would renounce love entirely; that it was intellectually inferior; that it was inconvenient and messy; that enlightened persons shouldn’t need any form of love.

[Insert Nibelung steel strikes here.]

Not sure why I had that reaction, but it’s defined my relationship style: my tendency to withdraw when feeling overwhelmed or stressed, to avoid people, to live in my head, and to feel overwhelmed in social situations.

“Because of their inadequate sense of self, they often try to anchor themselves in their roles as scientist, judge, doctor, father, mother, etc. When functioning in a role, they feel comfortable and they know what the rules are; being outside a specific role can feel frightening… They tend to withdraw or break contact in emotionally disturbing or stressful situations.” (39)

 

202. schizoid

Today, the Pink Agendist posted “Are you living with a covert schizoid?”

It’s important to put a crowbar of separation between “schizoid” and “schizophrenic” at the outset. These two have nothing to do with each other.

Both words are derived from the Greek word skhizein, to split. In the case of the schizophrenic, the split is from reality (psychosis). With the schizoid, it’s a split from the human world itself.

By nature, I’m introverted. As a child, I was off by myself, playing on my own or spending hours writing in my bedroom closet. (Yes, the irony.) I’ve learned coping mechanisms, but still prefer solitude or the quiet company of a few friends.

My dislike for human contact and company emerged around age 13 or 14, likely a reaction to the emergence of my homosexual feelings. These feelings were uncomfortable as they were forbidden by the teachings of my religion. Rather than differentiate, I reacted against all human contact. Survival mechanisms can be fucked up.

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition (DSM-IV) describes the “schizoid personality disorder” thus:

A pervasive pattern of detachment from social relationships and a restricted range of expression of emotions in interpersonal settings, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by four (or more) of the following:

(1) neither desires nor enjoys close relationships, including being part of a family
(2) almost always chooses solitary activities
(3) has little, if any, interest in having sexual experiences with another person
(4) takes pleasure in few, if any, activities
(5) lacks close friends or confidants other than first-degree relatives
(6) appears indifferent to the praise or criticism of others
(7) shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affectivity

(Way to pathologize normal human differences, APA.)

Wikipedia says this about the signs and symptoms of SPD:

Their communication with other people may be indifferent and concise at times (i.e. Meowing instead of speaking English). Because of their lack of meaningful communication with other people, those who are diagnosed with SPD are not able to develop accurate images of how well they get along with others.

Such images are believed to be important for a person’s self-awareness and ability to assess the impact of their own actions in social situations… It is not people as such that they want to avoid, but emotions both negative and positive, emotional intimacy, and self disclosure.

As I read all of this, I’m considering my indifference to my family; my lack of interest in most activities; my highly select group of friends and ambivalence to acquaintances; my inability to hold meaningful conversations without getting stuck or feeling tongue-tied, with anxiety over not knowing what to say; and my choice of career paths that require hours of solitude—writing, and composition.

It’s likely that all of this is related to Religious Trauma Syndrome. One theory about the cause of SPD is an “unloving, neglectful, or excessively perfectionistic” homelife and upbringing. This is somewhat true of my own childhood. Mind you, I never want to give the impression that my childhood was abusive, cold, or unhappy. My parents loved me and my sisters very much, and I have many fond memories from then.

But, by virtue of our fundamentalist Christian beliefs, my childhood was also highly judgmental. I was held to exacting standards, with virtually every aspect of my life subject to criticism and condemnation. It wasn’t just my parents who disapproved if I failed to meet expectations. It was God, who would determine whether I spent eternity in Heaven or Hell.

Pink Agendist quotes excerpts from a website, www.schizoid.info, which has this to say:

Schizoids are usually very intelligent and self-sufficient. They are intensely private people with acute interpersonal boundaries… They are deeply sensitive to intrusiveness, dependency, insincerity, and emotional behaviour. Despite their self-sufficiency, they require connection just like any other human being, and intense loneliness often compels them to reach out for some kind of relationship. This dichotomy leads to an ‘in and out’ pattern of him being in the relationship and pulling out of it, which is confusing and hurtful for the other party.

My previous ex-boyfriend often complained that I was overly withdrawn, that I spent more time on the computer or mobile devices than with him. There were problems in that relationship, and I wasn’t entirely committed, but it’s that way with most relationships for me, romantic or otherwise. Eventually, I need to withdraw and be alone. I feel like a jerk for doing it, but the alternative is exhaustion and shutting down.

Wikipedia mentions one schizoid “subtype”: the “secret schizoid.” (Ooh, la la!)

Many fundamentally schizoid individuals present with an engaging, interactive personality style that contradicts the observable characteristic emphasized by the DSM-IV and ICD-10 definitions of the schizoid personality. [These individuals] present themselves as socially available, interested, engaged and involved in interacting yet remain emotionally withdrawn and sequestered within the safety of the internal world.

I’ve wondered if my introversion and inability to connect was symptomatic of borderline personality disorder, or Asperger’s. I often feel the face I present to the world is an artificial one, having little to do with what I think and feel. I model my behavior and responses based on what I observe in others, but not really understanding the motivations behind what I see. My own therapist has described me as warm and engaging, but it feels like she’s just praising my act.

A simple action like getting a haircut requires intense preparation to overcome fear of what the stylist and I will talk about. It’s not unlike preparing to go on-stage—must remember my lines. Dating advice like going to new places to meet guys is virtually unthinkable. My trouble with job searching is not so much aversion to work as it is dealing with other people.

I write this, not to make excuses, but to explain—why I’d rather not go to gay bars with friends; why you won’t see me for days, or weeks; why I still sometimes flinch when touched.

That’s all.