A Meditation On Intransigence and Change

neurotic

Neurotic means you're afflicted by neurosis, a word that has been in use since the 1700s to describe mental, emotional, or physical reactions that are drastic and irrational. At its root, a neurotic behavior is an automatic, unconscious effort to manage deep anxiety.

A Story

Larry - not his real name - gently kidded a coworker - let's call him Sam - for his accidental appropriation and use of an item belonging to another person. The following day, Sam approached Ted. "I was teased a lot as a kid, and when someone teases me I get really upset." Ted responded, "That's a long time to be holding on to such pain." "I'm seventy," replied Sam. "I won't be changing anytime soon." Was Sam saying he is too old to change? Was Sam saying he doesn't want to let go of that hurt? If the latter, what then?

Ted could not have known with certainty that Sam had wounds that had festered over decades. Ted's intent was not malicious. His intent was benign to those who witnessed the interaction. A friendly hassle. Given Sam's response, coloured by an unwillingness to change and no small amount of a woe-is-me attitude, one might conclude that: 1) Sam is comfortable with his wounds; and 2) Sam's unresolved hurt adversely colours his judgement. Is it reasonable to suggest that Sam's predisposition skewed his perception and unnecessarily magnified Ted's intent? Should Ted respond further? How can Ted serve Sam's needs? Are Sam's needs reasonable?

Ted is a easy going person who is perhaps too accessible to those with an axe to grind. He has his own lessons to learn regarding necessary boundaries that prevent ill-mannered and unbalanced individuals from taking advantage of him and calling into question his intent. Did Sam sense Ted's vulnerabilities and, in effect, gaslight Ted?

People spend a lifetime becoming the person they are. It is pitiable that Sam has concluded he is incapable of change.

For a sincere Catholic, the spiritual path requires at least the willingness to practice openness to change for the betterment of one's attitudes and actions, and - when things go sideways - a willingness to visit the confessional and repent. Is a Catholic thinking like a Catholic when he habitually closes himself off to the graces he sorely needs to reorient himself to holiness in Christ?

God's grace really can change people's lives for the better. Though, do we really desire change, or do we prefer the comfort of the familiar? Why are we surprised when the same-old-same-old patterns keep repeating and our dissatisfaction mounts? Perhaps we are not being honest with ourselves. And, if we are not prepared to be honest with ourselves, are we capable of being forthright with other people and God? Are we willing to cooperate with God's grace or just pretending to do so?

Saint John Henry Newman reminds us that

To live is to change, and to be perfect is to have changed often. - John Henry Newman, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine (1845) sect. 2

Sam tends to use the nuclear option when his assumptions coalesce into a conclusion he allows to explode as an all-or-nothing choice. "Bob told me how to carry a bucket of water. I know how to carry a bucket of water. I'm tired of him telling me things I already know. I'm leaving. I quit." That kind of disproportionate response (to a genuine attempt to provide guidance) sounds more like that of an agitated six year old than that of an adult.

Childhood wounds can fester into powerful obstacles that can lock one away inside a prison, inside an imagination darkened by resentment, feelings of inadequacy and self pity.

Sam's skewed perception has become a well intrenched habit, and a mechanism used in a desperate attempt to defend himself. Sam doesn't realize he is avoiding a necessary confrontation and a necessary change. That is, a change he must make if he really values his friendships, and wants to preserve those relationships, and wants to avoid isolating himself further.

Sam's pain is now a predictable filter that, applied to a benign interaction, has complicated his relationship with Ted. Others have experienced Sam's tendency to enact false conclusions. 

Because of his threats and his unfounded reactions, Sam's other coworkers are wary, too, and constantly fear igniting another drastic response from him. Sam's behaviour has everyone on edge. Sam's coworkers' frustration, trepidation and annoyance outweigh the benefits that Sam brings to the company.

More than a mere annoyance and excuse on Sam's part, Sam is putting his soul at risk. The stakes are high. Holding on to pain and making it a weapon against others can rule out the freedom and reconciliation that forgiveness brings. By his own admission, Sam's visits to the confessional are characterized by his citation of a litany of other people's sins.

We can believe what we choose. We are answerable for what we choose to believe. - Newman, Letter to Mrs William Froude, 27 June 1848

Five words toward freedom.

A simple device to help one avoid the tendency to jump to conclusions - road rage, reacting to seemingly loaded language (comments seemingly aimed at me rather than toward me) - is a five word question one can ask oneself in the midst of an encounter, to temper the temptation to react. A reactionary conclusion can and often does seriously complicate a situation. Those five words are: What else could this mean?

That question can enable us to move beyond the temptation to form a rash judgement. It puts the brakes on a fast moving will attaching itself to that which we imagine to be the truth. The question inhibits the urge to be right and in control to the exclusion of charity. We may very well be justified in our response. Contrary to a response that is drenched in egoism or woundedness, a true and good response - a helpful response - is one that is rational, timely, proportionate and prudently worded.

The kind of behaviour Sam demonstrates seems much more common these days, or at least much more tolerated. Tolerate under the banner of victimhood. Dealing with Sam's kind of behaviour these days is more complicated than in former times when neurotic behaviour could be dealt with by simply and immediately addressing the issue, by providing clear counsel and consequences should the counsel not result in a desired outcome, and if necessary by removing someone from employment or involvement. The pendulum has swung, it seems, to an extreme that permits neurotic behaviour to survive and multiply. Is it any wonder that people seem reluctant to return to in-person employment when working alone, even though tinged with challenges associated with isolation, helps one avoid a coworker's unpredictable and frustrating behaviour?

As alluded to earlier, our intransigence, our comfort with (acceptance of) drama, pain, chaos, etc., can become a serious obstacle to grace. How will we be able to accept God's love if we place our need to be in control, or our need to dominate, above God's invitation to salvation, love and freedom? Metanoia, to change one's mind, to repent, to embrace humility, to convert, is to convert to truth, goodness and beauty. Granted, few are so enamoured with chaos that they are completely closed to influence. But why put one's soul at risk by clinging to chaos and conflict, however familiar and comfortable chaos may seem?

St Mark 10:17-31

And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘Do not kill, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’” And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have observed from my youth.” And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” At that saying his countenance fell, and he went away sorrowful; for he had great possessions.

Jesus used many approaches to shake people loose from complacency, to shake our hearts free of the tendency to cling to useless inhibitions or particular sins.

Perhaps at heart, the tendency to cling to one's familiar neurotic habits is an attempt to avoid risk. Risk is too often perceived to be a threat. How much moreso is risk a threat to the person wounded at an early age when his or her ability to parse and disperse pain is barely developing, and the tendency to take things personally is so much easier than confronting, in a matter of fact way, the inadequacies of human communication?

When confronting a risk, i.e., a perceived threat, we have few options, it seems. We can run and hide, we can stay and fight, we can freeze or faint. We can become passive and submit, aggressive and defensive and violent, or passive aggressive and carefully construct our retaliation with the aid of other "victims", our allies in gossip, blame-shifting, character assassination and other sins. The Christian response is none of the above.

The Christian asks himself a basic question: What am I putting in the way of God giving me peace? One might also ask: Do I intentionally behave in a manner that causes others to sin?

The Christian, seeking God's grace to empower a fuller response to that question, necessarily must examination his conscience and be honest about the intent of his thoughts and actions. The temptation to lie to oneself is dangerously easy to embrace. The benefit of the confessional is that the penitent has access to the wisdom of God through the priest's counsel that exposes, with fraternal charity, the nature of our intentions, the state of our soul.

The peace we seek is a peace that allows us to love and serve God and neighbour. It is a charitable peace, a selfless peace, a giving peace, a peace that is a sure sign that that prison of fear and control is ending or has ended. Our consent to God's invitation to salvation in Christ begins and continues with an acknowledgement that God is, and that He loves us too much to leave us stuck where we are.