Imaginary Friends: Hero Worship, Compulsivity, Equanimity

Like most any child of neglect, I was a desperately lonely little girl. Convinced I was hopelessly weird, probably of some other unidentified nonhuman species and categorically unlikeable, I peopled my world with idealized, fantasy relationships. A “hero worshipper” right off the bat, Beginning at a young age, my ever-advancing hit parade provided an endless feed of new hero figures. 

Characteristically, I was probably on a quest for the powerful and protective and loving parent I wished I had, and later a love partner. Some of those figures still languish on the old playlist after many decades, like my own little Mount Rushmore (no pun intended!). Most of them were/are men, and admittedly while being incredibly smart and brilliantly creative in some genre, had at least a streak, if not more, of unquestionable meanness. I have always wondered if one has to be at least somewhat egotistical to be truly great. As with all of us, I figure my dad was the mostly unconscious template. 

Admittedly, I have read all the biographies of Steve Jobs, an iconic example. He was perhaps a hideous parent, and I’m guessing a not-too-empathic employer, with an attachment trauma story of his own which I know only the roughest outlines of, and he changed the world. I still wish he hadn’t died. He is probably an extreme example from my parade. But truly emblematic of them all.

As we know from many famous examples in the history of neuroscience and general anatomy, when one region or body part fails or did not develop in the first place, a neighboring region, organ or body part steps in to take over the lost function. Not always certainly, but often. That was exactly what this resourceful child of neglect did to compensate for my unformed, underdeveloped or simply missing relationships and relationship abilities. So I was really never alone. My husband continues to be amused and is ever tolerant of this progression of characters that persists and even, perhaps only occasionally now, continues to grow. And it is a not unusual, mostly benign adaptation for survivors of neglect to somehow fill in the blanks with something. The trick is to be sure we stay cognizant and mindful of the difference between fantasy and reality.

Compulsivity 

As time goes on, when sexuality comes online very often for the child of neglect, this becomes a “new” locus of dysregulation. After all, trauma and neglect are all about dysregulations of arousal: hyper-arousal and hypo-arousal in the brain and body’s electrical system. Sexuality is another kind of arousal that can be both hyper, hypo or both. It can make for confusing, chaotic, out-of-control and even potentially destructive feelings and behaviors. Especially lacking quality, evidence-based and unbiased information and sex education. This is a major soap-box diatribe of mine. I believe it to be a significant contributor, besides gender-based power dynamics of course, to what we might abbreviate as the worldwide “Me Too” phenomenon. But don’t get me started…

In my case, the hormone-driven kind of arousal emerged early and intensely. Like most children of neglect with no one to ask and nowhere to turn, I did not know what to do with it. Now we have the internet, which is surely a mixed, mostly not-so-good solution. But back then, I resorted, at least at first, to fantasy which had always worked for me until then.

The child of neglect reaches for and finds adaptations or attempts at regulation for the usually distressing, uncomfortable or even tortuous dysregulations. I was no exception, and from the safety of fantasy, I ventured out a bit and discovered the elixir of alcohol by the age of 13. It was a blessed “fix” and provided me with a feedback loop of both a semblance of “calm” and the false courage to meet real people. One of my regulating mechanisms for hyper-arousal was the discovery of distance bicycling, which also brought me into a community of mostly male others. The feedback loops between alcohol and the false courage provided by alcohol and the other iterations of increasing arousal and impulses resulted in my colorful checkered past. I can mostly laugh about it now, and thankfully nothing really bad ever happened.

I am, however, painfully aware of the vast range of sexual dysregulations and difficulties that, for the most part, no one talks about.  People are ashamed, don’t know how to speak about them, or don’t know it is “OK” to either have or speak about them. Let alone to whom. Most clinicians in health and/or mental healthcare fail to inquire due to their own ignorance or shame, or perhaps morals. In many cases, if I do hear about sexual concerns at all, it is most often from an angry, distressed or frightened partner or if the individual has gotten into some kind of “trouble.”

In the 1990s, the AIDS epidemic brought some of these problems and their dangers to unavoidable light. For a long time, they were largely lethal, and thankfully in most parts of the world, that is no longer true. Certainly, my neighborhood and the park on the corner, once a famed destination for anonymous sex, is haunted by ghosts: lives lost to the AIDS crisis. 

In the early 2000s, my phone rang like a repeating alarm bell, resounding with the then diagnosis du jour of “sex addiction”, compulsive sexual behaviors that at least initially terrified and mystified individuals and couples and clinicians too. 

Although a veritable (and certainly at least partially profit-driven) industry sprung up. It took me a while to find reliable and truly scientific and worthwhile information, theoretical formulations, and treatment approaches that I could accept and attempt to utilize. Those were some hard times.

I have a strong conviction about asking and teaching healthcare and mental health practitioners to educate themselves and become fluent in speaking and inquiring about sexual matters. This means getting comfortable with using precise language out loud and without shame to model and both proffer normalcy and permission to not know or to struggle. I would wish that psychiatrists advise their patients about the possible sexual side effects and even losses that accompany some antidepressants, similarly oncologists about chemotherapy and some surgeries, Ob-Gyn’s about pregnancy. Childbirth and beyond, etc. And that we all learn about the dysregulations that may accompany childhood neglect.

The history of sex education in public schools is another interesting and decidedly political story. But that would be for another day. Suffice it to say, I have to wonder how much individual shame and agony, sexual misconduct and abuse, un-bridled and dangerous sexual and even criminal activity result in dysregulations originating with attachment trauma and neglect, and the tragic poverty of good information.

Equanimity 

My alcohol-soaked compulsivity spanned most of my 20’s. When clients ruefully lament the idealized loss of their “youth” I have to at least quietly think “good riddance!” Most of my out-of-control behavior, even if it manifested in the physical world with real live others, was not that different from the old fantasy world and lasted not much longer before evaporating, although sometimes with some humiliation and dramatic heartbreak. All of my copious journals from that decade are filled with nothing but those romance novel-like tales, and although the tattered notebooks are lined up on a back bookshelf, I have never ever cracked the covers and sometimes wonder why I have saved them – perhaps as a relic or hopeful reminder of what recovery can do! 

I have recently noticed that a number of (mostly) male survivors of neglect entering midlife (fifties and sixties) are “suddenly beset with alarm and grief about a door possibly slipping shut.” Many who have endured long sexless partnerships as they begin to consciously or unconsciously grapple with mortality worry about missing out entirely on satisfying sex. It becomes unbearable and no longer acceptable. Those who have been working on their neglect, either in couples or individual therapy or both, are gaining the voice and the courage, as well as the self-respect, to insist on creating that in their partnerships before it is too late. I am here to say that such is possible. Again, the sequelae of neglect span a wide swath, and to heal dysregulations and the intergenerational transmission of neglect is not only to better individual lives but to make the whole world better, safer and more fun!

Today’s song:

 

True Repair: Yom Kippur, Why Apology Matters, What Heals?

Next week’s Jewish High Holiday Yom Kippur brings many thoughts. My childhood memories of that day are spotty and mostly painful. Our dad being the cantor was more nervous and irritable than ever, as that was the day when he had the fullest house of the year, meaning the “once-a-year-crowd”

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