Gossamer, Coca Cola, and all the finer things.

I imagine being in a psych’s office, and they’ll say to me

“Tell me about your mother” 

I’d say something like

“She’s deeply religious and extremely disciplined. She is often very harsh and bitingly critical, but can’t seem to understand it when people express that to her. She’s very introverted,she’s a hard worker, she is a complex, dark and terrifying person.” 

Then they’d say 

“And what about your father?” 

I’d say 

“He’s a very outgoing individual, he’s always making friends everywhere he goes, and always counting on them for favors. He’s very extroverted, he’s a hard worker, he seems to be earnest. He’s very emotional, but we’ve never had much of a relationship. He’s pathetic in a way, I feel bad for him often. Goofy guys like him shouldn’t be saddled with so much responsibility. 

Then they’d ask me 

“which one do you think you’re more like?” 

and I’d have to admit

“well doctor, I’m afraid I’m very much like the both of them.” 

Then they’d say 

“Do you think your resentment towards yourself and your anger towards your parents may be related?” 

And I’d respond

“Yes I considered that a few months ago, I wrote a blog entry about it actually.” 

This isn’t the proper response though. The correct response would be to let a look of shock and realization flash over my face for just a second, and then act like I’m trying to hide it and doing a poor job at it. Then I’d unfocus my eyes and stare past the doctor, as if I’m lost in thought. The psych would notice this of course, and feel a sense of satisfaction, they’d opened my eyes to something. Something pretty straightforward and simple to them perhaps, but for the uneducated mind of their client, must seem like a grand revelation. 

They can’t blame their client of course, this is why they get paid the big bucks, this is what they got their degree for. Then they’d feel good and satisfied, which would motivate them to engage even more, and actually start to do their job. Maybe then that would lead to some novel revelations, from which I the client would actually benefit from. Then both parties would be walking away feeling pretty good about themselves. The psych feeling good about themselves for how smart and good at their job they are, and me feeling good about myself for how smart and effective I am at steering people into being useful for me. 

Or maybe not! Maybe it wouldn’t go that way at all, maybe I’m just projecting my own insecurities onto the situation. Maybe the psych would clock my little performance and just make a note of it. Maybe they’d play along and toy with me a bit, which I’d also notice and then, this paranoia croissant would start to unfold. Layer after infinite layer. The eternal game of it all. 

There are correct things to say or do. Proper outputs for specific inputs and vice versa  when interacting with psychologists, or bosses, teachers, loved ones, etc. Put on this face, adopt this cadence of speech, adjust the voice and body language etc etc. Input, output. Being aware of it doesn’t make you immune to it either, you show me the color red and I will suddenly be thirsty for a coca cola. It’s like clockwork! There are only so many variations in output for a specific input. 

Input: [signal any sort of interest or care in a person during conversation] 

Output:[ They will start to tell you a story] 

[variation A]: Something they did, saw, liked, heard of, are annoyed by, are interested in, is involving their social network, etc. 

[variation B]: Negative response - signal they’re not interested in communicating, don’t like you, expletive outburst, etc. 

It may seem like a lot but after a while it seems really quite limited, then it becomes boring, or annoying, or even (worst case scenario) exhausting. It is, in effect, a very simple game everyone has been trapped into.The difficulty lies in being able to tolerate the rules once you are aware of them, and to continue offering the right inputs and outputs until you die. I’ve felt like an exasperated child on the playground for the better part of two decades now. I don’t want to play anymore, I want to go home, and I want to just sleep for a while, I’m exhausted and I miss my mother. 

It is too much to be involved in the game, I can’t stand it. It’s so frustrating and exhausting and painful and I am far too fragile for it. 

The melodrama of it all, eh?