There are two ways to look at how you live your life. Both have strengths and both have drawbacks. As a psychotherapist, I always lean to the side of having more choices, but that's because of the life style I have chosen. If you have not made a conscious and deliberate choice (yet) about your style of life, then you have chosen the one with fewer choices.
The latter approach (with fewer choices) I call the "leaves on the stream" style. It is by far the most common life-style. In it we simply respond to the circumstances that present themselves, like leaves floating on a slow-moving stream. The leaves go around the obstacles with little hindrance (most of the time) and float all the way to the ocean, where they disappear into the boundless blue water. Such a person doesn't make active choices about direction, but only responds to those problems that present themselves. "Leaf" people (most of us) make temporary choices and handle problems with as little effort as possible. They become the product of the choices that fall to them, and so they are living examples of how "temporary choices" can become our lives.
Leaf people study whatever their school offers them. They get jobs and do them, some times very well. They may or may not like what they do, but doing what they might like is either not available or not possible. They cope with the problems life presents to them, doing what they need to do to keep floating. They marry, have children, grow old and die without a lot of thought as to whether there were (or are) other possibilities. In many or most cases their culture may not allow for alternatives or choice-making. Circumstances can cause people to have few or no choice, and as a result they just have to keep plugging along, trying to find as much satisfaction and pleasure in their lives as they can. There's a certain nobility in just keeping on, doing the job, handling the problems and not giving up. The world depends a great deal on such people.
I call the other style "boats on the ocean". People navigate the streams, setting courses and goals, and going there. Choices are made on the basis of how well or how poorly they fit the chosen directions. Lives are measured by how closely People approach their goals. They don't become anything "by accident". They will give up immediate pleasures and ease for the sake of long-range goals. They focus part of their energy on solving problems that have not yet occurred. Of course unexpected obstacles pop up, and they have to deal with them, but they return to their course as soon as possible.
Things change for both groups in middle age. The "leaf" style of person expects to have fewer problems and obstacles, because they expect life to get less demanding. They look forward to "taking it easy" and drifting comfortably into old age. Sometimes they are uneasy about what they "might have missed" or what might have happened "if". Sometimes they begin to feel that life has passed them by, that life has lived them and they have not lived it. They may wonder who they have become, and may have little sense of uniqueness or individuality. Sometimes their pervasive sense of aimlessness leads to boredom and tedious and depressing self-evaluation. Their battle cry is "What's it all about, anyway?" Sometimes they revert to their 20s in a futile attempt to start over, which results in the "middle-age crisis" accompanied by red sports cars and a new spouse. This only delays the inevitable.
The people in the "boat" category do very well if their goals were directions rather than specific accomplishments. Reaching a "goal" is a stopping point, and the directions as to where to proceed (if anywhere) after reaching it are not usually easy or available. Having gone as far as you can go, you may find yourself in the same situation as the "leaf" people in middle age. Having moved in your chosen direction, however, does not limit you to an arrival point.\ Directions are open-ended by their nature and not self-limiting.
It seems to me that the "boat" style has fewer built-in problems, but overall both life styles can be quite comfortable for many years. It's not the long fall that gets us, it's the sudden stop.
Sunday, June 05, 2016
Saturday, June 04, 2016
How psychoanalysis lost its way
Freud invented psychoanalysis as a way of exploring the processes of the mind. The 'analysis' part of the title refers to his hope of finding patterns in apparently random thoughts, patterns that would reveal a logic governing mental processes. It was an experimental process. It was not aimed at 'curing' anything or anyone.
The procedure was very simple. One simply said everything that came into one's mind, without censorship, editing or correction. The 'analyst' simply listened and hoped to find a logic that governed the process of human thought. Freud wanted to explore what had never been explored before. He had no real idea as to what he would find.
But as with many experimental processes, patterns could be discerned. More properly, the analyst began finding ways of putting together the processes of thought in ways that sounded logical. Freud began hypothesizing various 'causes', forces within the person that without his knowledge dictated the order and content of his thoughts. Having apparently found such patterns, he began to find more and more cognitive events that could be fit within the patterns. The old process of confirmatory bias began to operate.
When he looked at the mental processes of the depressed or dissatisfied person he found himself looking for 'causes'. What caused people to be so dissatisfied with themselves? Were they hiding secrets from themselves? If so, how could that even happen? The idea of having a secret hidden from one's own self was almost absurd. Why would we do that?
Freud began making guesses, some inspired, others not so much. A person might keep a secret from himself because it contradicted what he wanted to think of himself. For instance, a person who prided himself on his honesty might prefer to 'forget' an instance in which he was clearly dishonest. Secrets might be kept to protect the self=image or concept. Perhaps keeping secrets from oneself contributed to someone's unhappiness. So telling the truth might be a road leading to greater comfort and self-acceptance. There's still some validity in this conjecture, but comfort and self-acceptance are not the criteria for curing mental disorders, like depression and anxiety. Not having depression or inappropriate anxiety are.
At this point Freud and his increasing army of followers left the road of pure investigation and began to consider their methods potentially curative. Not a science, now. A treatment. New theories and hypotheses abounded around a wide variety of symptoms. The underlying concept was that understanding would lead to freedom and health. Now psychoanalysis was not only a treatment but a series of methods and concepts that were aimed at a 'cure' of some sort.
There is some truth in this concept, apparently. For some, it works. For some, analysis becomes an endless exploration aimed at understanding everything, but changing nothing. Knowing how and why you are harming yourself is useless without a change in behavior. But of course there is nothing in psychoanalytic thought that suggests that behavior is important. Some enthusiasts spent years and thousands of dollars in understanding themselves, with no detectable difference. A jerk who understands why he is a jerk is still a jerk until he changes how he behaves.
The procedure was very simple. One simply said everything that came into one's mind, without censorship, editing or correction. The 'analyst' simply listened and hoped to find a logic that governed the process of human thought. Freud wanted to explore what had never been explored before. He had no real idea as to what he would find.
But as with many experimental processes, patterns could be discerned. More properly, the analyst began finding ways of putting together the processes of thought in ways that sounded logical. Freud began hypothesizing various 'causes', forces within the person that without his knowledge dictated the order and content of his thoughts. Having apparently found such patterns, he began to find more and more cognitive events that could be fit within the patterns. The old process of confirmatory bias began to operate.
When he looked at the mental processes of the depressed or dissatisfied person he found himself looking for 'causes'. What caused people to be so dissatisfied with themselves? Were they hiding secrets from themselves? If so, how could that even happen? The idea of having a secret hidden from one's own self was almost absurd. Why would we do that?
Freud began making guesses, some inspired, others not so much. A person might keep a secret from himself because it contradicted what he wanted to think of himself. For instance, a person who prided himself on his honesty might prefer to 'forget' an instance in which he was clearly dishonest. Secrets might be kept to protect the self=image or concept. Perhaps keeping secrets from oneself contributed to someone's unhappiness. So telling the truth might be a road leading to greater comfort and self-acceptance. There's still some validity in this conjecture, but comfort and self-acceptance are not the criteria for curing mental disorders, like depression and anxiety. Not having depression or inappropriate anxiety are.
At this point Freud and his increasing army of followers left the road of pure investigation and began to consider their methods potentially curative. Not a science, now. A treatment. New theories and hypotheses abounded around a wide variety of symptoms. The underlying concept was that understanding would lead to freedom and health. Now psychoanalysis was not only a treatment but a series of methods and concepts that were aimed at a 'cure' of some sort.
There is some truth in this concept, apparently. For some, it works. For some, analysis becomes an endless exploration aimed at understanding everything, but changing nothing. Knowing how and why you are harming yourself is useless without a change in behavior. But of course there is nothing in psychoanalytic thought that suggests that behavior is important. Some enthusiasts spent years and thousands of dollars in understanding themselves, with no detectable difference. A jerk who understands why he is a jerk is still a jerk until he changes how he behaves.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Then or Never: Critical periods in humans
In many, if not all, animals and birds there is a critical period shortly after birth in which certain events must occur for normal growth and maturation. An early writer in this area, Konrad Lorenz, observed ducklings immediately after hatching. He discovered they would follow any object of approximately the "right" size as if it were their mother, IF the duckling was exposed to the object immediately after hatching. By the next day the critical period was closed, and such attachment (which he called "imprinting") could no longer occur. Some photos exist that show Dr. Lorenz waddling along, crouched down, with a line of ducklings toddling along after him.
Dogs and wolves have been shown to have the same pattern. If wolves are not exposed to and handled by humans within the first few days after birth, they become untameable and feral. In dogs the critical period for socialization is considerably longer, and may be as long as 12 weeks, with 8 weeks common in certain breeds of dog. (My doctoral dissertation is in this area).
In humans there is known at least one critical period for language development. If children are not talked to or cannot hear language in the first 3 or 4 years of life, they will never be able to learn to speak. (I have not looked up this period and am not sure whether the length of time I have cited is accurate.)
It has occurred to me that there may be a critical period in humans and other primates for belonging to a group or pack. We are group animals, of course. We seek out groups to which to belong. This process can be seen in children somewhere before puberty usually noticeable at age 10 and later. It becomes more and more important through the teen years. In this period groups form, whether gangs or social groups or interest groups. What group you belong to is increasingly important.
Group boundaries can be marked by clothing or location or by title. Probably other methods of marking boundaries can be found. Transgressing a boundary can be a life-threatening event. What people wear becomes extremely important, sometimes puzzling parents, but when this happens the clothing items are boundary markers, and not having the right item can mean exclusion and humiliation.
In non-human primates being excluded is a life or death issue, and we probably have some genes that dictate this level of importance to membership. It is obvious that membership is highly valued; young people have accepted "beat-downs" or group rapes as the price of belonging to a particular group.
Adolescents have committed suicide because of group exclusion or rejection. College students may accept "hazing", sometimes quite severe, as the price of belonging to a fraternity or sorority.
So the importance of belonging is clear. We all experience it to a degree. Even adults frequently find group membership highly important. What is less clear is what happens to people who don't achieve group membership during what may be a critical period for group membership.
These people are seen by other adolescents as "weirdos", "geeks", "loners" and other pejorative names. It appears to me that school shootings have been carried out entirely by loners, non-members of groups, who are filled with otherwise inexplicable rage at those who "belong". Adults who were not accepted in groups during their adolescence are not comfortable with adult groups. They rarely join clubs. In many ways they (we) don't seem to quite know how to belong. They don't get the cues, wear the right clothes, have the right behavioral signals (i.e. "manners"). The tend to be loners their entire lives. Even when they marry, their families tend to remain socially isolate.
This is particularly observable in military families, in which the teen=age children are moved several times during the critical period for belonging, i.e. the high school years. As adults they tend to stay on the outside of groups and are isolated to a degree even in their neighborhoods. They tend to think of themselves as "different", "un-social", and equivalent titles. In my opinion they will never be able to overcome their sense of isolation. In a funny sense, they (we) are feral as far as groups are concerned.
Human infants learn at a very early age (prior to 1) to mimic expressions on a parental face. This "mirroring reflex" is automatic and apparently not accompanied by a specific matching feeling. For instance, when the parent face is smiling, the infant "smiles"; when the parent frowns, so does the infant, but does not apparently feel badly. Just the expression itself is mimicked. Very specific neurons in the human brain (and in some primates) are involved. I wonder if the beginnings of social isolation are found in a failure of the parent to provide such up-close and personal contact at a critical period as yet unidentified.
Certainly some of us on the autistic spectrum have difficulty recognizing and responding appropriately to facial expressions, tones of voice, body language and the like. This makes us easily identifiable as potential social isolates. Asperger's syndrome is an example. However, intellectual understanding of social cues can help supplement or replace missing instinctual responses. We can learn what a specific expression means and practice appropriate responses, which can conceal the genuine social awkwardness that underlies it.
It puzzles me that there has been so little research in this general area, which is obviously of considerable importance to understanding normal and aberrant human development.
Dogs and wolves have been shown to have the same pattern. If wolves are not exposed to and handled by humans within the first few days after birth, they become untameable and feral. In dogs the critical period for socialization is considerably longer, and may be as long as 12 weeks, with 8 weeks common in certain breeds of dog. (My doctoral dissertation is in this area).
In humans there is known at least one critical period for language development. If children are not talked to or cannot hear language in the first 3 or 4 years of life, they will never be able to learn to speak. (I have not looked up this period and am not sure whether the length of time I have cited is accurate.)
It has occurred to me that there may be a critical period in humans and other primates for belonging to a group or pack. We are group animals, of course. We seek out groups to which to belong. This process can be seen in children somewhere before puberty usually noticeable at age 10 and later. It becomes more and more important through the teen years. In this period groups form, whether gangs or social groups or interest groups. What group you belong to is increasingly important.
Group boundaries can be marked by clothing or location or by title. Probably other methods of marking boundaries can be found. Transgressing a boundary can be a life-threatening event. What people wear becomes extremely important, sometimes puzzling parents, but when this happens the clothing items are boundary markers, and not having the right item can mean exclusion and humiliation.
In non-human primates being excluded is a life or death issue, and we probably have some genes that dictate this level of importance to membership. It is obvious that membership is highly valued; young people have accepted "beat-downs" or group rapes as the price of belonging to a particular group.
Adolescents have committed suicide because of group exclusion or rejection. College students may accept "hazing", sometimes quite severe, as the price of belonging to a fraternity or sorority.
So the importance of belonging is clear. We all experience it to a degree. Even adults frequently find group membership highly important. What is less clear is what happens to people who don't achieve group membership during what may be a critical period for group membership.
These people are seen by other adolescents as "weirdos", "geeks", "loners" and other pejorative names. It appears to me that school shootings have been carried out entirely by loners, non-members of groups, who are filled with otherwise inexplicable rage at those who "belong". Adults who were not accepted in groups during their adolescence are not comfortable with adult groups. They rarely join clubs. In many ways they (we) don't seem to quite know how to belong. They don't get the cues, wear the right clothes, have the right behavioral signals (i.e. "manners"). The tend to be loners their entire lives. Even when they marry, their families tend to remain socially isolate.
This is particularly observable in military families, in which the teen=age children are moved several times during the critical period for belonging, i.e. the high school years. As adults they tend to stay on the outside of groups and are isolated to a degree even in their neighborhoods. They tend to think of themselves as "different", "un-social", and equivalent titles. In my opinion they will never be able to overcome their sense of isolation. In a funny sense, they (we) are feral as far as groups are concerned.
Human infants learn at a very early age (prior to 1) to mimic expressions on a parental face. This "mirroring reflex" is automatic and apparently not accompanied by a specific matching feeling. For instance, when the parent face is smiling, the infant "smiles"; when the parent frowns, so does the infant, but does not apparently feel badly. Just the expression itself is mimicked. Very specific neurons in the human brain (and in some primates) are involved. I wonder if the beginnings of social isolation are found in a failure of the parent to provide such up-close and personal contact at a critical period as yet unidentified.
Certainly some of us on the autistic spectrum have difficulty recognizing and responding appropriately to facial expressions, tones of voice, body language and the like. This makes us easily identifiable as potential social isolates. Asperger's syndrome is an example. However, intellectual understanding of social cues can help supplement or replace missing instinctual responses. We can learn what a specific expression means and practice appropriate responses, which can conceal the genuine social awkwardness that underlies it.
It puzzles me that there has been so little research in this general area, which is obviously of considerable importance to understanding normal and aberrant human development.
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