Coyote Blues

by Karen F. Williams

  Two more classes and this summer course in personality disorders would be over. She’d been a clinical social worker and psychotherapist for more than twelve years now, but it was her first time to instruct a course at Smith College. The idea of teaching had never held much appeal. She preferred treating people to teaching others how to do it. But Dr. Margaret Spencer, better known as Peggy—her former professor and now colleague with whom she shared a private practice—had finally persuaded her to be an adjunct. Riley had to admit she’d truly enjoyed the experience.

  She picked up a blue marker and drew an upside-down triangle. “This is the Karpman Triangle, better known as the drama triangle. You might want to copy it in your notebooks.”

  At the top left corner, she wrote rescuer, at the right she wrote persecutor, and the bottom point she labeled victim. She put the marker down and tapped each one with a finger. “Victim, rescuer, persecutor. They aren’t people. They’re roles that people play.”

  Riley turned back to the class. “We can use the drama triangle to analyze the interpersonal dynamics of couples, families, social groups, even organizations. But to keep it simple, let’s think of two people in a dysfunctional relationship.”

  “Been there, done that,” mumbled Kyle, the lanky kid with a mop of unruly hair.

  The class laughed, and Riley turned to him with a smile. “Well, Kyle, many of us have. The important thing is to recognize an unhealthy relationship for what it is and either break the cycle or hightail it out of there. Many people don’t. Whether out of love, guilt, or lack of self-confidence, they get trapped in the game—an endless head game—and the drama triangle becomes a way of life.”

  Riley walked down the center aisle to the back of the classroom and faced the board with her students. With no one behind her, she reached into the collar of her polo shirt and gave herself a good scratch. She’d gotten a haircut this morning, and her neck and back were itchy. Most of the year she kept her hair a little longer, but come summer she preferred it short. It was better for swimming and for traipsing through the woods with her coyotes.

  “Okay,” she said, straightening her collar and returning her attention to the whiteboard. “Imagine the triangle as a game board for two players. Each player will assume a primary role when the game begins, but both can move around the board to any of these three positions. The persecutor’s motto—and you should write this down, too—is it’s all your fault. The victim’s motto is poor me. And the rescuer’s motto is I can help you.”

  “Oh my God,” Madison said. “That’s so me. The rescuer. I’m the one everybody comes to for advice.”

  “Well, considering rescuers often enter the helping professions, it’s safe to assume that everyone in this room, myself included, is adept at assuming this role.”

  Riley laughed at all the nervous faces. “Relax. It doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. Where would we be without people helping other people and communities, saving lives, rescuing animals, protecting the environment? Rescuers make the world a better place…as long as they’re acting out of love and compassion and not personal gain. It’s the same with victims. Some people really are victims, yet others pretend to be in order to manipulate and take advantage of others. And as you’ll learn, rescuers and victims have an uncanny ability to sniff each other out.”

  Riley folded her arms and thoughtfully regarded their puzzled faces as she made her way back to the front of the classroom. “Let’s create a quick scenario to demonstrate how the drama triangle might play out in a less than healthy romantic relationship.” She checked her watch. “Or maybe not. We’re out of time, guys.”

  “Aw, go ahead,” a student in the back called out.

  “Yeah, Professor Dawson, show us,” another student said.

  “Okay. I have a few extra minutes. If anyone needs to leave, feel free,” Usually, by the end of a two-hour class, they were all starting to check their phones. But no one moved today.

  Riley looked around the room. “All right, since Madison is a self-identified caretaker, we’ll give her the role of rescuer. And since it sounds like Kyle has been unlucky in love, we’ll make him the victim. But keep in mind that Kyle could easily be a woman, or Madison a guy, because same-sex couples get caught up in drama triangles as much as straight couples do.

  “So let’s say Kyle and Madison meet at a party. There’s an immediate attraction. Kyle asks her for a date, and as you can see, he’s way too cute to resist. He’s thirty, with a degree in English lit, and works part-time in a bookstore while he writes his first novel. He shares an apartment with three other guys because he can’t afford to live alone, but says it’s impossible to write because of the constant noise. He also mentions that his parents don’t support his creative ambitions. They think he should make better career choices.”

  “Uh-oh,” Madison groaned.

  “Uh-oh is right.” Riley laughed. “But she falls for him. He’s a great guy really, and once she reads the first two chapters of his book, she decides he’s a talented writer. After a few months she invites him to move in with her. This will give him the quiet space he needs to finish his book, and she’s okay with paying the bills. After all, once he gets published, they’ll both reap the rewards, right? But more and more, Madison comes home from work to find Kyle on the couch gaming, watching television. The sink is full of dishes, the garbage hasn’t been taken out, and he’s not doing much writing.”

  Kyle slumped in his seat. “Oh, man. You’ve been talking to my mother.”

  Everyone laughed, but Madison frowned. “Kyle, I am so not ever going out with you.”

  “So what happens now?” Riley asked. “After the first year Madison, the rescuer, starts to feel burdened. She’s getting tired of carrying the load and putting her own needs aside. She’d really love to buy those awesome boots she’s been wanting…those tickets to the upcoming Coldplay and Foo Fighters concerts…and she’d like to sign up for that watercolor painting class. But she can’t afford to. It occurs to her that Kyle is very much like her last two boyfriends—none of them could stand on their own two feet—and she questions her choice in partners. Secretly, she thinks Kyle isn’t cut out to be a writer and begins to gently nudge him to pick up more hours at the bookstore. She even suggests that he take a few education courses and consider becoming a high school English teacher. That way he’d make a decent living and have summers off to write. But Kyle isn’t looking for suggestions.”

  Riley opened her arms to the class. “Don’t we all know someone who constantly complains about their life but rejects any solutions and advice you offer?” Sounds of hushed agreement filled the room. “So one night after a hard day at work, Madison finally blows up and jumps over to the role of persecutor. ‘You don’t appreciate me, Kyle. All I do is work and cook and clean while you sit around doing nothing. Face it. That book you’re never gonna finish is nothing but an excuse not to get a real job. Maybe your parents are right. You need to put on your big-boy pants and grow the hell up!”

  “Ouch,” Kyle said. “That hurts.”

  “Of course it does.” Riley agreed. “And now he counterattacks. ‘You expect me to sit and write just because you want me to? I have to be inspired, and it’s hard to find inspiration with you trying to control my life all the time.”

  Riley walked over to her desk, pushed her messenger bag aside, and sat up on it. “So what do we have now?”

  “Two persecutors in a fighting match?” someone called out.

  “Yep. Those are the couples we hate to be around—the ones that make us uncomfortable because they’re always accusing and blaming each other for something.”

  “Oh, man,” Kyle groaned. “That’s my aunt and uncle at family dinners. All they do is bicker, from the time they walk in until the time they leave.”

  Judging from the hushed whispers and laughter, everyone in the room had relatives like that. Except for Riley, who had none. Her biological family was unknown, and her adoptive family was a faraway memory
. The closest thing she had to relatives were the three people who’d saved and accepted her into their family: Peggy, Peggy’s wife Barbara, and Barbara’s gay brother, Tom. They were all she had—them and the coyotes that shared her property, and sometimes her couch.

  “So, yes,” she said. “Now we have two persecutors. But Madison can’t stay in this role for long. She’s a fixer, not a fighter. Conflict makes her uncomfortable. It’s easier for her to contain her feelings than to honestly express them and risk rejection. But Kyle’s accusations make her feel misunderstood, unappreciated. She begins to cry and…what position does she move to in the drama triangle?”

  The class was quiet for a minute, and then Madison spoke up. “Victim?”

  “Yep. We all have a right to feel sorry for ourselves sometimes. A good cry can be cathartic, but Madison can’t stay in that role either. It’s not comfortable for her. She’s too competent and action-oriented to sit around feeling helpless. ‘I didn’t mean what I said,’ she tells Kyle. ‘I do believe in you. It’s just that I worry about our money situation. And work has been stressing me out. But I have no right to take it out on you. I’m sorry I’m not being the person you need me to be. I feel awful that I make you lose your inspiration. That’s the last thing I want to do.’” Riley looked at her students and waited. “Now what happens?”

  Josh raised his hand. “He moves from persecutor to rescuer?”

  Riley nodded. “For a hot minute he does. But Kyle’s no more a rescuer than Madison is a victim. He can’t rescue himself, let alone someone else. He apologizes, praises her, promises that he’ll do more to help around the house. He says he’ll start looking around for a manager’s position at another bookstore, or even register for those education courses she suggested because—here comes the bad news—his store isn’t doing well. ‘They’re cutting my hours. I just found out yesterday but didn’t know how to tell you,’ he says. ‘I’m so depressed. I just can’t catch a break. My life sucks.’”

  Madison gave a knowing smirk. “So Kyle’s already sliding back down to the ‘poor me’ role of victim.”

  “And now with Kyle back in his preferred role, Madison happily returns to her primary role of rescuer. She tells him not to worry, reassures him that everything will be okay…that she’ll pick up some overtime…that losing hours at work will give him more time to write. Kyle loves this idea. He swears that if he can’t finish his novel in a few months, he’ll put it aside and consider going into teaching. They kiss and make up. Peace returns to the land. Except nothing changes, and the cycle begins again.”

  “I feel sorry for me,” Madison said.

  “I’d leave his ass if I were you,” the student sitting behind her said.

  Snickers filled the room, and Riley grinned. “I know, I know…we’re all wondering why the heck Madison stays with this guy, right? She deserves someone who’s on par with her, someone as invested in building a future as she is. But don’t be fooled by the rescuer. In fact, she might even be fooling herself.”

  Riley slid off the desk and began walking back and forth in front of the class. “Madison can leave the relationship any time she wants, but she stays because…?”

  Josh raised his hand. “Because they’re codependent.”

  “Well, yes. Madison depends on Kyle to depend on her. But why? How is it that the rescuer, a seemingly competent and independent young woman, is dependent on the victim?”

  There was silence, and when no one responded, Riley answered her own question. “Because his dependence gives her power over the relationship. As long as Kyle needs her, he won’t leave her. Her self-esteem is tied to him depending on her.”

  Riley stopped pacing and looked at the class. “Rescuers often begin honing their skills in childhood. Many grow up in homes in which an atmosphere of helplessness prevails. There may be financial or marital problems, addiction, a sick or disabled family member, even a significant death from which the family hasn’t recovered. Whatever the issues, parents mean well but are too self-absorbed to focus on the needs of their children. And so that one child, like Madison in our scenario, learns early on that suppressing her own needs in favor of meeting the family’s needs is a way to be appreciated, acknowledged. She adapts by being well behaved, making herself useful, taking on responsibilities, and in doing so she becomes an emotional support for a parent or sibling. She finds that rescuing others gives her a sense of importance, of power and control, and earns her the praise and attention she desperately craves.”

  “Like the child of an alcoholic?” a student asked.

  “The parentified child…that would be an extreme example. But yes, exactly. Of course, things could go the other way with a different type of kid. If Madison weren’t so obedient and caring, if she’d been born with a more stubborn and independent streak, she might resent her parents’ emotional unavailability and become oppositional-defiant instead—the type of kid who acts out, challenges authority, gets into trouble in school because negative attention is better than no attention.”

  Riley walked back and forth again. “Here’s the problem, though. As she moves into adolescence and adulthood, it doesn’t occur to Madison that someone might like her for her. She makes friends and socially connects with people by offering to help them. It’s all she knows. So she initiates relationships by tapping into the needs of others. Unconsciously she gravitates toward victims, uses her skills to ingratiate herself, take charge, and rescue them.”

  Josh raised his hand. “Does that make Madison an enabler?”

  “It does. But here’s the catch. When we enable someone, we give them permission to fail.” Riley looked around the room. “And really, Kyle needs to fail, because he hasn’t yet developed the coping skills needed to tolerate the demands and pressures of adulthood. Basically, he’s scared to death of being a grown-up.”

  Kyle scrunched his face. “But Madison wants him to succeed.”

  “She does. On a conscious level. She really is tired of carrying the burden, of making personal sacrifices. But remember, her self-worth is tied to being needed. So what’s the unconscious conflict here?”

  A student in the back spoke up. “That if Kyle either finishes and publishes his book, or finds a fulltime job, he won’t need her anymore?”

  “That’s right.” Riley shrugged. “Who knows? If he becomes self-supporting, he might leave her. By enabling him, by giving him permission to fail, she keeps him dependent on her. And that secures her place in the relationship.”

  “Then it’s more about her fears than her happiness?” Josh asked.

  Riley nodded. “Madison and Kyle may be very different people, but they do have one thing in common. What can neither bring themselves to do?”

  The class was quiet for too long, and then Madison took a chance. “Take responsibility?”

  “Bingo!” Madison was sharp. She would make an awesome therapist one day. She was Peggy’s student, too, and they’d already discussed offering her an internship in the fall.

  Riley walked up to Madison’s desk. “The Madison in our scenario would be quite offended to hear you say this, because she sees herself as taking all the responsibility for the relationship, right? But what isn’t she taking responsibility for?”

  “Um…” Madison hesitated, seemingly unsure of herself now that the professor was standing over her desk. “For her own happiness? Her authentic self, maybe?”

  “The authentic self!” Riley winked her approval and smiled at the others. “Does everyone know the authentic self?” Most shook their heads or looked down. “Tell them, Madison.”

  “It’s basically like…who you are at your core?”

  “That’s right.” Riley turned and went back to her desk. “Your authentic self is who you are in your heart of hearts…the deepest and truest you. It’s your well of potential, the place where all your interests, talents, intuition, and wisdom gather. The place where your dreams and desires collect and cry out to be realized. Nothing is more regrettable, and ultimat
ely tragic, than unrealized potential…suppression of the authentic self. It’s what brings many otherwise healthy people into therapy.”

  Riley looked at her watch. She needed to stop by Peggy’s office, grab some lunch, then make the hour’s drive back to their office in Great Barrington for her three o’clock client. “Okay, guys. My authentic self needs to get out of here.”

  “Quick question,” Kyle said. “What does a healthy relationship look like? Is it a triangle, too?”

  “You can look up the compassion triangle. And the Darwinian triangle. As I said earlier, you’ll explore these when you study transactional analysis and other social models of communication. Personally, though, I think a healthy relationship looks more like a line…a two-way line that allows for flexibility, honest communication, and mutual support, so that loving partners can, at the same time, take responsibility for the relationship, for each other, and for the individual expression of their authentic selves.”

  Madison was chewing on the end of her pen, looking rather perplexed. “I still don’t understand how narcissists fit the victim role. From what we’ve read about narcissistic personality disorder, it seems like they’d all be persecutors in the drama triangle.”

  “Oh, they are! They’re all persecutors,” Riley said as she began stuffing papers into her messenger bag. “But they’re masterful at slithering around the triangle, typically posing as rescuers and victims in order to seduce and suck us in.” She threw her bag over her shoulder as her students stood to leave. “Add a severe narcissist to the mix—especially one whose personality borders on antisocial—and you’ll see how fast the drama triangle can turn into a dangerous and sometimes deadly game for two.”

  * * *

  Riley made her way through Lily Hall to Peggy’s office. It still felt strange to be back on campus after all these years, and even stranger to see Peggy in the same office she’d visited as a student. Her name was on the door: DR. MARGARET SPENCER. It was halfway open, and the sight of her working at the computer made Riley smile.