Well, I’ll just keep realizing and saying it until I don’t need to, anymore (in case I repeat myself, which seems certain). Not too long ago, and out of the blue although interestingly astrologically predicted, I received a text from the Architect. It was, in a way, an opening salvo which looked like it was heading towards, or from, an amends. Except, not really, because addiction.
In my past experiences with the Architect, and really anyone in that general overlap of categories, what I have experienced and observed is that they want to kind of go through the motions with a rhetorical exercise. And they want a lot of affirmation and support for the bravery or whatever the fuck. A gold star and a cheerleader for taking out the trash kinda thing. But what it often appears to really be is a self-serving release. This is why I feel guilty: let me purge and get credit for being accountable and a stand-up person. Look at me, doing recovery so awesomely.
And that is one of the problems with how amends are often handled in 12-step programs. It ironically and non-introspectively makes the amends about the amender, instead of the amendee. I remember my stepfather confessing to me once that he bore an unshakable embarrassment and feeling of shame because once, when I must have been a toddler, he passed a joint to someone over me and and the tip fell off, maybe burning my shirt or something. I have no memory of this. And even if I had, growing up in a house of smokers likely wouldn’t have made an ash incident noteworthy: his feeling of shame had nothing to do with me. Neither did an apology for it. In so many ways, the amends system imposes on the injured by roping them in to the amender’s processing of shame. But your shame is really not my problem, and helping you feel better likely does nothing much in my feeling better: I receive no real satisfaction by knowing what you feel bad about, especially when it doesn’t match my own places of wounding.
In this case, the Architect had said something in a text years ago which, upon recent review, he felt cringe over. It was ridiculous, but because it was clearly so untrue and cringe at the time, it had no emotional impact on me. Lots of other things did, though. Which is why a more authentic and useful approach to amends would be first to ask the amendee what issues they would like to address, giving them full court to speak through them once, without audit or defense. Then, still without defense but not necessarily without audit, the amender can acknowledge those s/he feels are his/hers to own – or not. Truth and reconciliation have to allow the injured to speak to their wounds, whether or not you inflicted them. In subsequent brief text exchanges, I told the Architect that I had things to say about our time together: it wasn’t something I’d thought about in years, but now, having been imposed upon with his “amends,” essentially forced to revisit it through this unsolicited contact, yes, I had some thoughts, when he wanted to hear them. Do you think he’s run to the phone to have that conversation? Of course not.
Indeed, I joked the other day that he could come and help me with some of my overwhelm for a couple of weeks (paid, of course), which would be a true amends. He bristled: the time didn’t match the crime. How was it related? As I gave it serious thought, I realized that, again, it wasn’t, for him. But for me, a huge issue in our relationship was how he failed, completely, to support it and gladly threw me under the bus for pretty much any and every reason. He sold me out every chance he got, accusing me years later of being the responsible party for his choices and issues in relationships I had no involvement in. So, for me, the notion that he might offer to support me in a substantive way where and when I truly needed support was an extremely precise response and remedy to some of the harm his prior acts and addiction had wreaked. But again, we’re not having that conversation, because his amends is a cursory check-box in his therapy curriculum, and not genuinely motivated to make things right with me. And look, I never expected to hear from him, much less for this purpose, so I don’t feel entitled to it. I’m just saying that if you’re asking what I would like to see, have addressed, talk about, then I have the thoughts queued up. Otherwise, let’s stop pretending that this is anything more than more addict narcissism.
Long ago, I noticed that the Rolfer was very good at having a broad, distributed network from which she could often cobble together support, enabling her for years. She had a philosophy of taking what people offered, rather than looking for people who offered what she wanted. There’s a logic to that, and it’s likely more viable. Person A is someone I know will offer me a place to stay, but not money. Person C will give me a little money, but not talk me down off a ledge. Person D is someone I can hang out with spur of the moment. Person B will exercise with me. No one is supposed to be everything, and having a village of support can get us far. At the same time, those in our inner circle might rightly be expected to try to provide, within reason, authentic, tailored support when we need it. If you are a close friend, whatever else, I should be able to lean on you a bit from time to time without breaking you or the relationship. More importantly, providing support where it’s needed is the real meaning of support – otherwise, it’s somehow transforming the gift of it into a narcissistic act. This was the constant challenge with the Musician, who never understood how gifts weren’t generous if they were all about his preferences and interests.
And so this comes to relevance with my mother. In thinking through the situation more this week, old, unresolved hurts have surfaced. My mother has always required a ton of support from me: it’s the default transaction. But she doesn’t offer it in return. Maybe in some, “Hey, I’m always here to listen” way, but that’s not a form that means much to me. In my whole adult life this has been true, and arguably in my childhood, although that is harder to measure precisely. Whether or not she likes being confronted with it, she has chosen my stepfather over everything, even herself. As much as she may protest that she is capable of managing, she also claims that she manages so poorly because she is so incapable – you know, lady, pick a narrative. But ultimately, if a system or life requires constant subsidy of whatever inputs to keep going, it’s not sustainable. It’s not being managed. It would collapse if not for intervention. In any case, nothing in the relationship offers support to me in ways which matter to me. It would seem this should be a minimal criteria for any relationship.
I don’t say that anyone owes you support. And it might have to be negotiated. You can say, “I need or want this.” And I can say, “I won’t or can’t offer that, but I can offer this.” And each of us can say yes or no to the conditions being proposed. But if you’re not even asking, then stop pretending your “give” is about anyone but you. Anything can be done selfishly. Anything can be a concept trap that takes an unguarded mind a minute to figure out.
I’ve also been reminded that when someone offers you something which doesn’t cost them anything – or asks for it, without a willingness to pay a price – that should tell you something. In addition to the examples already given, that has come up again with the Videographer. He assures me that I am amazing and he wants to be friends. Of course: who wouldn’t want to be my friend? My return on value is exponential. But he has nothing to offer – or is unwilling to offer anything, more honestly – in exchange. Random check-ins for my advice or sympathy are not reciprocal. They’re asks. A receipt of a gift. Not a friendship. Not an exchange. I have almost zero interest in flattery, and so it does not come close to balancing the scales – and it has no cost, anyway. Even in the law, a benefit which has no cost of any kind for the recipient is not a legal basis for jack shit. So, you know. Word.
Lastly, oh my God, stop telling me, anyone, that I make you wish you were better. Either take the opportunity to do better, or stop talking about how you wish you could. Of course you can, and if you don’t, you’re just choosing to not. There is no external force keeping you from doing you – it’s just you. You won’t. Do I care why? Maybe intellectually for model building, but not practically. At some point, we all just have to grow the fuck up.
NOBLE BATTLE MAIDEN 