The Analyst

by Peter Stickland

  “Rubbish, I’m not buying the Narcissus story.”

  “Then I’ll try another angle. Love is a phenomena that is best known after it has been tried for many years. It may start off being a duty, something you take responsibility for, but later it becomes love. You would do better to give up the expectation that your eyes deserve so much just because you happen to be looking; better accept responsibility.”

  “It’s highly probable that I don’t always attribute love to its rightful place, but I can’t act out my life on the probability you are describing. We all have to act on feelings that rise up from deep inside, from that place where fact is unavailable, but where predispositions thrive. Where would we be if we could not respect vague intuitions, if we knew nothing of that partly-aware place where inclinations have not yet become realisations? I can’t have any real knowledge that my love is irrational, so I must allow my fantasies to express something or there’d be no reason for their existence. Maybe for a writer like me, love needs to be formed by narratives, by a process that affects imagination. Love is, after all, an essential component of the creative spirit.”

  “You are right, but with your emphasis on rejection you could be celebrating a tragedy with worthy attributes to boost your literary armoury. Maybe you need a tragedy because it energises you, because you think that such events in life are where your creative fruit flourishes. There are destructive possibilities and falsities here that could make life difficult. You must weigh up the balance.”

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re wrong. It’s more difficult than you imagine. This woman has enabled me to love; this is more of a creative condition than it is a destructive one.”

  “But where does that leave us?”

  “I’m a writer of stories and for this some leniency is due. That I ask too much is certain, but love is nothing without passion and desire. How can you prescribe what a reasonable amount of self-gratification might be?”

  “When it’s full of your egotism, then it’s unreasonable.”

  “But my love is not egotistic. I always wanted the best for her. I continually looked for ways to please her.”

  “But if the extent of your altruism is designed to charm her into loving you in the way you want to be loved, then it is egotism and not altruism.”

  “That’s fine. You are right. I give in. You win, but I am still right. In the end I don’t care that I am a man who was constantly in love with a woman who had no feelings for him. That’s my story. I can live with it. What is your story, Stefan? You haven’t even talked to me about the women you love.”

  “But you are always talking about love as if it’s only a thing that kicks off a period of enchantment. What about the kind of love we have that gets us through the years? Let me tell you about a client of mine. This man dreamt that his wife was a house and he spent all his time collecting bricks to feed that house. I didn’t know what to tell him, so I told him to wake up, make his dreams more interesting and find love in the place where he found himself. When we next met he had changed radically. He read me something. Wait a second and I’ll get it for you to read.”

  Stefan returned from his consulting room with a piece of paper and handed it to Alex. The sheet was headed,

  ‘Brain Pickings,’ an article from Maria Popova’s website. “The Price of Admission: Dan Savage on the Myth of “The One” and the Unsettling Secret of Lasting Love.”

  This was followed by a quote:-

  “There is no settling down without some settling for. There is no long-term relationship by just putting up with your partner’s flaws, you have to accept them and then pretend they aren’t there. We like to call it “paying the price of admission,” in our house.”

  The quote was followed by the man’s observations.

  According to Dan Savage, there’s no long-term relationship with someone unless we’re willing to identify the flaws we can accept and the ones we can’t and the latter have to be no greater than the fingers on one hand. He states that young people have the idea that there’s someone out there who’s perfect, called ‘the one’ but according to Mr. Savage, ‘the one’ does not exist, it’s a lie. But the beautiful part of it is it’s a lie we can successfully tell ourselves in a long-term relationship because it’s a myth that two people create together. It presumes that myths are built of lies, and that usually there’s some kernel of truth in it.

  Dan Savage says that what is beautiful about a long-term relationship, what can be transformative about it, is that the girlfriend pretends every day that her boyfriend is the lie she accepted when she first met him and he pretends that she is exactly that too. The boyfriend continues to regard her as a much better person than she actually is; even though he knows she’s not, and she does the same for him. Then, magically, they are obliged to live up to the lies they told each other and are consequently forced to be much better people than they actually are, because they expect it of each other.

  So, in a long-term relationship we can really make our lie-self come true by demanding it of our partner and be willing to do the same for them. That’s the way we become ‘the one.’ Somebody is willing to pretend we are ‘the one’ even if we’re not. No two people are perfect for each other, no two people are a hundred per cent sexually compatible, no two people are a hundred per cent emotionally compatible and no two people want the same things. If we can’t reconcile ourselves to that, we will have no relationship that lasts longer than two months.

  I sat contemplating and appreciating this stylish lie that makes everything possible and decided to read it to my wife. Afterwards she kissed me. There were tears in her eyes.

  “That’s very sweet,” Alex declared. “It’s moving. We never know when or from where a revelation arrives to greet us. Has his life really started to change?”

  “Who knows; its early days.”

  “It’s strange that you have all these theories about lasting love when you can’t seem to get love started. I think love does initiate something dynamic in us; it wakes us up.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When I see someone I’m attracted to its like waking from a dream. I rub the sleep from my eyes and wonder at the great plethora of feelings that are demanding my attention. Almost immediately, saturation occurs and I wonder how to proceed. My senses are open to any impression that happens to impinge on them without exercising any preferences; I must act intuitively; I have to be more on my toes than at any other time I can imagine. If I speak to the woman who is inspiring me, my receptivity is highly tuned and I imagine I‘m receiving the richest kind of knowledge possible. It’s not an intellectual thing, it’s an impulse. Everything that is said appears to inspire mythical thoughts. That’s how it starts. After that you just have to do your best to keep all the balls in the air.”

  “OK, you win. Getting started is different to keeping going and you are right, I know precious little of either thing.”

  “And do I also win about the primary importance of stories in our life, because if I do then I can really drop this therapy business for once and for all?”

  “The question is too big for me to answer,” Stefan replied. “You will have to teach me more about it before I am ready to take this on by myself.”

  Mythical thought

  Truth and fiction, love and therapy; they are all alike. Only those who contribute benefit.

  Four days after their meeting Stefan had an email from Alex.

  You and Kathy taught me two big lessons about relationships.

  First lesson - I always allowed myself to be dominated. I should not accept neglect, discontent and a lack of fulfilment as my fortune? It left me struggling to find my real self.

  Second lesson - I could never establish clear boundaries. Boundaries were a revelation and a revolution for me.

  Last week I happened to be in the company of Mrs X and I gave her clear boundaries. I didn’t offer the slightest hint that I desired any connection with her. The most notable result was that I d
iscovered she’s the one who feels vulnerable. She was utterly confused. I suppose she has invented herself to such a degree that her real self is way below her radar. I often suspected that she needed male attention to feel real. How was I to know that it wasn’t love I was feeling? How could I have known about her ability to insist on a game that allowed her to dominate the situation? I took up the role of friend that was assigned to me even when her flirting with others continued. I had an appalling life. I hope I am now out of the web. I’m relieved. Thank you. Now I can begin again.

  The following morning Stefan had a phone call from Alex.

  “Did you get my email? I agree with everything you said about my love for Mrs X. It was false; a fantasy. With her I had only a one track mind. But the good news is… I’ve met someone new; she’s very special. Her name is Millie.”

  Stefan, astonished at the suddenness of this new development, could only congratulate him.

  “I want you to meet her Stefan. I want your approval. There’s nothing complicated about her. She’s not sadistic, I promise you. She doesn’t want to control me on account of her being vulnerable. She makes me feel like a new man; the person I should be. I don’t get the slightest hint with her that I’ll have to make excuses for my existence or that there are a million hoops I must jump through to get her approval.”

  Alex eulogised Millie for some time and Stefan wondered when he’d be allowed to speak again. Eventually he asked Alex when he wanted to meet. “Tomorrow” was the reply. Stefan agreed and they chose a restaurant.

  At the end of that day, Stefan had a text message from Alex.

  We have to cancel tomorrow. Something has turned up, but we are giving a party at my house on Saturday. Can you come? Please do. I want you to meet all my friends.

  Stefan texted back, agreeing. On Friday night he had supper with Kathy. She asked about Mr A and Stefan spent some time relating all that had occurred between them. At first Kathy was suspicious, referring to his friendship as a dangerous game, but she warmed as Stefan described the resolutions that seemed to be occurring. He then tried, very badly, to explain the sudden appearance of the renegade in him. He admitted that he had recently found his professional role too much of a strait jacket. Kathy felt some bewilderment when he talked of eschewing all his “over-familiar self-conscious practices” and she told him that she suspected that something had thrown him off course.

  “Why are you so intent on remaining blissfully unaware of the dangers you are courting?” she asked him.

  “You don’t travel a road too different from mine” Stefan countered. “Why is my course risky and yours not?”

  “I may have incorporated an open-ended approach into my practice, but I haven’t thrown caution to the wind. I think we should talk about love, Stefan. Something tells me that love is at the bottom of this issue. Love is missing from your life because you daren’t risk it, so you are playing at risk in every other quarter.”

  Stefan was silent. This was the sneakiest and most direct entry into his private world he had ever experienced.

  “So why are you quiet, Stefan? You have always tried to boycott any talk of love, but now I’m going to give you a chance to talk about it with me.”

  “I am not aware that I have boycotted any kind of conversation,” was Stefan’s reply.

  “And are you aware that you manipulate women by making yourself unavailable. You think if you display enough disinterest it will keep women at a safe distance.”

  “I don’t manipulate women. If I don’t want someone to move too close to me, that’s my choice.”

  “But you do this to prevent any woman from expressing their feelings for you; and the sad thing is, you are desperately lonely. Just accept that some woman at some time is likely to find you attractive. Opening up to them would be a suitable kind of gamble for you rather than all this crazy risk-taking with your profession. Do you ever ask yourself why you never get started with a relationship?”

  “Yes I do. I get too nervous when someone wants to express their feelings for me.”

  “Mercy me, you’re very precious with yourself. I take it that you wouldn’t want to know my feelings for you.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you can’t expect someone to be a mirror for you - show you what’s going on in your orbit - and not allow them to express their feelings for you. It’s part of the process.”

  “But we are colleagues; we discuss professional activity, we are not two people on a date. I can talk to you about our shared practice, about awareness or mindfulness, without expressing my feelings for you. Maybe you refer too much to feelings. Have you considered that?”

  “You always turn things round so that you are the one doing the rescuing, don’t you? If you never practice feelings they remain unripe. This is where you get trapped; and if you are trapped then you have made a very small world for yourself. You are entombed in a Self that sooner or later is going to start operating out of fear. We need warm hearts, Stefan. We need warm hearts to soothe fear, to help our feelings grow into maturity. Endless therapy without feelings is only half an action, you know this as well as I do. What has got into you? You seem to fall apart when feelings are the subject of the conversation. The intimacy that arises in listening and speaking truth is only possible if we can open to the vulnerability of our own hearts. Breathing in, contacting the life that is right here, is our first step. Only when we have held ourselves with kindness, can we touch others in a vital and healing way.”

  Stefan melted at Kathy’s words. He told her of his dream about the old woman in the ballroom.

  “So keep this woman close,” Kathy told him. “She’s an inspiration. Go dancing or at least get moving.”

  Stefan didn’t know whether he felt happy, angry or sad. This was a mysterious moment for him. The feeling of friendship overwhelmed him and he listened to Kathy with admiration.

  “You can’t control life,” she told him. “Try containing a bolt of lightning or enclosing a hurricane. Dam a river and it will find new channels. Challenge the tide and it will sweep you off your feet. You have no choice; you must let it all in – the wild and the weak, your fears and your fantasies, your failures and your successes. All of this you have within you. All you need to do is approach your Self with a little more acceptance and love. The self-condemnation and self-distrust that you practice are grievous errors. The constant feelings of pain and loss and the nagging sense that you lack pleasure are signs that you do not bear enough love for your Self. Make your love of your Self the most important thing for you. Deny yourself nothing - give your Self what you need; it is the only way.”

  The pair talked well into the night. Stefan spent much of the time in a reverie. These were mythical thoughts for someone like him, someone who is so decisively armoured. Kathy kept Stefan on track and often asked him what he truly wanted. He told her everything he knew about his reasons for rejecting intimacy and confirmed to himself that he was hooked on this pattern of behaviour, just as Alex was hooked. Stefan knew about addictive behaviour; despair was often its companion. He knew he had to believe that the endless repetition he had created could be dissolved. He also knew he had constructed a narrative to live in and it was not dissimilar to the kind of narrative Alex had created.

  This latter thought sat with him as he returned home and it was still there with him when he woke next morning. He wanted to say more about the role of narrative, but he couldn’t find the words and his mind wondered back to the spirit Kathy inspired in him. This was not necessarily a good sign. It was repetitive, it was intellectualising and it was Stefan wanting to remain in control; returning to being the therapist rather than the man moving forward, facing new challenges. The thought did, however, occur to him that it would be better if he went dancing rather than sit analysing and after lunch he made his way to the park. Here, on Saturday afternoons, couples regularly gathered to dance Tango. He wondered slowly beside them, gazing at the intimacy enjoyed by the dancers. He
felt like the old woman in his dream, like a young child whose movements have yet to be practised and crafted before achieving the smooth elegance of a dancer.

  “The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it,” he told himself. “I must move with the dancers, join in the dance.” He swayed a little, his feet and legs caught the rhythm and he set his arms free. He felt as if he were now available and there was a smile on his face. Others smiled when they noticed him.

  Outside the walls

  Nobody is an expert - we all are practising.

  On Saturday evening, it was with considerable excitement that Stefan entered Alex’s house. There was no sign of Alex, but the party goers were plentiful and lively. Music played, drink flowed and the noise of animated voices and laughter filled the rooms.

  After wandering through the house and garden, Stefan asked someone if he knew where Alex was.

  “He’s not here,” came the reply. “He’s gone to Greece with his girlfriend. Typical Alex. Left piles of food and drink and the instruction for everyone to enjoy themselves.”

  Stefan wanted to ask more about Alex, but this man was intent on transporting drinks to another part of the house. Stefan enjoyed a few glasses of wine and introduced himself to various guests, but he could not develop an extended conversation with any of them. He was happy enough watching the guests, but soon he became fascinated by the way a very striking woman talked with her friends. He was captivated by the way she moved and enchanted by the prospect of speaking to her. He had no option but to gather up his courage and introduce himself.

  “Hello. How do you know Alex?” he asked.

  “I was married to him,” came her reply.

  The shock waves that hit Stefan could have knocked him over, but he willed himself to remain steady and focussed. He discovered that Greta Franklin was exceptionally easy to talk to and she was more than willing to answer questions. Stefan did everything he could to charm her and keep her entertained. More than once he told himself that he would like Greta at his side forever. It struck him as a surreal irony that he and Alex should be attracted to the same woman. Slowly as their conversation flourished, the thought occurred to Stefan that Greta could also be Alex’s obsession as well as his wife. He revealed to Greta that he had almost been Alex’s therapist and hinted at the kind of intimacies they shared during their subsequent friendship. When Greta admitted that she had an exceptionally difficult time trying to free herself from Alex’s amorous intentions, Stefan was convinced she was Mrs X.