In search of a meaningful connection

Dear Rhonda,

I have a crush on my followers. I  interact with them a lot, I get worried when they don’t reply and I get devastated when one of them unfollows me. My life revolves around twitter, I seek attention there all the time. Reason why I got on twitter in the first place was to seek friends and I am still seeking good friends, but relationship on twitter are temporary. One of them unfollows, the relationship ends . But I am stuck in this bubble, all my relationships are platonic, I am scared of any other form of relationship. All I need is someone to pay attention to me and someone who can talk to me, what do you think is wrong with me? Do I need help

–Baphomet

Dear Baphomet,

The internet can provide a certain feeling of connectedness and community, an illusion of intimacy, but by its very nature, it is shallow. Some online relationships can lead to more, but this generally happens once users extend their interactions beyond 140 characters.

You have identified a need for attention, and also a desire for good friends and for a relationship that is more than platonic. You have also identified that this frightens you and that you feel hurt when people unfollow your account.

Can you take each of these items and examine them separately? Where does your need for attention come from? Is trying to source it from a medium like twitter giving you the wrong kind of attention, and therefore simply making you crave more?

To form solid friendships, you may need to look beyond twitter, or take the twitter acquaintances you have made offline. Attend meetups or suggest catching up for coffee with people you’d like to know better, and see what eventuates.

Many people have met partners via twitter, including me, so it is possible for relationships to bloom, but you first need to overcome your fear. Unpack what frightens you with someone you trust or with a qualified therapist. Some people also find self-help books useful, particularly if they don’t feel comfortable talking to someone about their fears.

When someone unfollows your account, try to put it into perspective. On twitter, people come and people go for all sorts of reasons. Something piques their interest so they follow; something bores or annoys them, or they want to cut down on the number of people they follow who use emojis, so they unfollow. More often than not, it isn’t personal; it’s simply the pressing of a button. Many twitter accounts aren’t even real: bots, paid fake accounts, and people trying to promote something.

If you feel you spend too much time on twitter and it’s having a negative impact on your life, try taking an extended break. Suspend your account, remove it from your phone and stop accessing it from your computer. See how your life feels without it, how much extra time you have to form meaningful real-world relationships and if you stop craving the buzz of a retweet or an @ reply.

Best of luck,

–RP

Is watching S&M internet pornography harmful?

Dear Rhonda,

Have you seen the website www.elitepain.com? Do you think watching this stuff is mentally harmful? What’s your say about it?

–Mangoose

Dear Mangoose,

People are turned on by a vast array of things. As long as the participants have consented to take part in the activities depicted, and the viewer has also volunteered to enter the site (which I notice contains a warning and requires visitors to agree that they are over 18 before they can access the content) I see nothing morally wrong with this sort of material being available.

Is watching this stuff mentally harmful? There are many claims about the negative effects of watching explicit internet pornography, from their ‘addictive’ properties to their ability to destroy relationships or promote sex offences, just as there are claims that violent video games cause people to commit violent acts. While there may be a correlation between users of violent material and those who commit acts of violence, there is as yet no definitive evidence that one causes the other. It is just as valid a hypothesis to say that those with a predisposition toward violence are more attracted to violent material than those without. Others claim the reverse is true, that the level of non-consensual violence acted out is curbed by the availability of materials that sate these desires through fantasy rather than reality. I don’t believe enough research has been done to be able to state categorically either way.

Meanwhile, as long as it is not coercive, I think it is up to individuals to exercise their own judgement about the sort of material they use, produce or participate in.

–RP

Reflection in search of an Echo

‘Adore me!’ she cries, again and again, ‘for without your eyes to see me, I might disappear.’

Is it okay to poke fun at an ex-friend’s social media?

Dear Rhonda,

Recently I discovered that an acquaintance of mine was a little bit psycho… okay maybe a lot… maybe a bit Single White Female.

That’s fine and we have parted ways but I want to know if it’s okay for me to be completely childish and stalk her on social networks so I can point and laugh and be bitchy? Just sometimes! Like when I’m home bored, or a bit drunk and stoned.

From a really mature adult with their shit together ;p

–An Adult

Dear An Adult,

When relations with a friend or a partner break down in this way, it is perfectly natural to go through a period of re-adjustment that can include this type of ‘bitchiness’. In a way it provides a kind of catharsis. You are venting your frustrations, and maybe your hurt, too.

Something to be careful of, particularly when under the influence, is that you don’t start attacking this person in public, in a way that you might regret the morning after, or in a way that reflects badly on you.

If you have unresolved anger, you need to find a healthy way to address it, whether directly (and ‘off-line’) to that person, or if that isn’t possible (say that person isn’t willing to engage in an adult discussion) try writing out your feelings. If it helps, compose a letter or an email to that person expressing how you feel. Once you’re done, set the letter aside for a day or two until you can come back to it with a fresh (and hopefully calmer) perspective. Then you can decide whether it is something you still want to send (perhaps with some modifications) or whether the writing process alone has helped you vent. Sometimes it can help to send it to a sympathetic friend instead who can help you feel heard and understood.

There is a point where it becomes unhealthy to continue to ‘stalk’ a person’s social media. You’ll recognise this point because instead of providing a sense of release, your stalking incites anger and frustration. If this happens, it’s time to let go — block that person from your view if you find it difficult to stop — and focus on living your own life, free from the ‘psycho’.

Best of luck!

–RP

Seeing all sides

Adventure Girl learns the perils of too few points of view

Over the years I have encountered many people who appear incapable of seeing anything from another person’s point of view. You probably know someone like this. Someone who is always the ‘victim’, ‘hero’ or ‘princess’ in any encounter. You’ll often hear them repeating similar stories over and over. ‘So-and-so has let me down, just like everyone before’, or ‘I’m always the one giving and never get enough in return’, and ‘I deserve/don’t deserve this.’ It doesn’t seem to matter what happens in their life, they play out the same patterns, assume the same roles and construct the same reality.

My father was one such person. I used to try to persuade him with logic and reason, hard facts, or appeal to his conscience. It didn’t matter what tactic was used, he could spin any story, any event, in such a way that he was always right, always hard done by, or better and more deserving than anyone else. To make him so, the other players would be cast as wrong, villainous, or less deserving, and nothing I or anyone else could do would make him see otherwise. There were times I was frustrated to tears. How could he not know that his arguments were illogical? How could he deny the facts in front of him? Why could he not see the impact his actions had on others? Eventually I learned that arguing with him was not only futile but exhausting.

Since then I have encountered many more people like this, who have played bigger and smaller roles in my life, but every time I have ended up baffled at their apparent inability to see the world from anyone’s point of view but their own. Perhaps it is a lack of empathy, or perhaps an unwillingness to accept any view of the world that doesn’t align with their self-belief: typically one that casts them in a set role (hero, victim, princess) and with which every encounter and every interaction must conform.

I am lucky (or perhaps unlucky) to be able to see multiple points of view, so when the victim/hero/princess is bemoaning their fate or telling their story, I can see each side, each argument or counter argument. This makes it easy to be sympathetic to all parties, but difficult to navigate with tact when that victim/hero/princess demands undivided loyalty while refusing to see any side but theirs. And if I find myself on the other side of their anger, because I am able to see their point of view, I too readily accept responsibility: ‘Yes, I can appreciate why that would have made you feel this way,’ yet the same courtesy is not extended to me. The victim/hero/princess clings to their self-belief, only seeing the story from a single point of view.

I suspect it is this self-belief that is at the core of the problem. When an event happens, our brains store it in memory as a fragment. When we retrieve that fragment, we build a narrative around it. That narrative must be consistent with our understanding of the world so as not to cause what is known as ‘cognitive dissonance’. If we find that the memory does not correlate with our world-view, we have two choices: we can shift our understanding to take into account the new information, or we can build and re-build a narrative that casts the events in such a way that it is consistent with our self-belief.

For individuals like my father, the latter is the only option. Preserving their self-belief and the role they have cast for themselves is paramount, no matter what it costs those around them.

Unfortunately, that cost can be high. When to preserve their world-view, or to live out a self-belief, a person needs to cast you in a counter-role, it can feel like an accusation. In a normal situation when someone accuses you of something you have an opportunity to rebut, to present evidence and tell your side of the story. With people like this, you don’t have that opportunity, because anything you say, any action or inaction, will be twisted, re-cast, the narrative re-written. Failing that, your side can simply be disregarded: ‘I can’t take your issues on board right now’, ‘I don’t want any drama in my life’, or a simple, ‘I’m done.’ You are acting out a play, written, cast and directed by them, and you have no right of reply: powerless.

When encountering individuals who operate in this way, I have learned it is better to walk away than to engage in any kind of debate. How can you defend yourself when the only lines that will be heard are the ones that have been scripted for you? There is no mechanism in this scenario to be heard because the accuser has no capacity or willingness to understand. To do so could threaten their world-view and self-belief. This is not a battle anyone can fight. The only sensible option is to walk away.

This strategy has served me well to a point. I have learned to recognise the pattern and the behaviour of these types of people and avoid throwing myself into hopeless battles. I simply let the argument, and them, go. On one level I can accept this: these are not the kinds of relationships I wish to pursue.

The downside is that walking away can make getting closure difficult. I refrain from having my say when I probably need to get something out. I bottle it up, feeling dis-empowered, rather than empowered by my silence. This is particularly detrimental when each new instance invokes the feelings of the old. Eventually I implode, and that doesn’t help anybody.

I don’t want my anger to fester, unresolved, so what outlet do I have? When do I get to have my say? Venting to friends who can see other people’s points of view helps, but it’s not always enough. I can’t talk to my accuser without being witness to their revisionist history and re-experiencing the powerlessness all over again. The only avenue I can see is to write my story out as fully as I can, including all sides (because I can see them). Maybe my accuser will mentally re-write them, more likely they will never read them, and though I know they are unlikely to ever see any other point of view, they also can’t alter my truth, and that is real power.

-A.G.

‘But I want them to like me!’

Adventure Girl learns a lesson in setting boundaries and saying no

At the beginning of last year I made a resolution to ‘stop collecting crazies’. It sounds a little ridiculous when I write it out, but after a succession of tumultuous relationships beginning with an abusive boyfriend, and then a drama-addicted manipulative friend (who later became an unreliable and vampiric house-mate), and a year of dating and befriending people who managed to barge into my life and sponge off me emotionally and financially, I was exhausted. Something had to change. Then when my not-so-crazy friends starting asking, ‘How do you keep getting caught up with these people? What is it about you?’ it occurred to me that I might be a big part of the problem.

I was never the popular kid growing up and my sisters, cousins and the neighbourhood kids, who were all older, never wanted me around. Growing up on the sidelines, hoping to be invited in, it became my habit to accept any offer of friendship, because I never knew when the next one might come along. Fearing rejection, I also ended up dating the people who showed interest in me, rather than those I fancied, something that prevented me from fully exploring my sexuality, and fully experiencing a healthy and balanced relationship.

Historically I have also fallen into hero-victim types of dynamics with people. I would see that someone ‘needed’ me and want to rescue them, even if it meant they walked all over my boundaries, leaving me feeling violated and utterly drained. I guess being needed, and not just wanted, made me feel valued. It seemed like a safe place to be: if someone needs me they are less likely to reject me.

As an adult my situation has changed. I am not short of wonderful, giving friends, who go above and beyond, who bring me to life and who I would do anything for, who I never hesitate to spend time with, who never make me feel guilty for not calling sooner, and who I look forward to seeing every single time no matter how much time has passed. These are friends who give me space, who respect my boundaries, who I feel comfortable and intimate with, and with whom I wish I could spend more time. So why was I still giving time and energy to people who were so clearly bad for me?

I realised that a big part of why I let these people into my life, and then stay there, is because I have so much difficulty saying ‘no’. Such a simple word, yet it carries so much weight. In childhood being told ‘no’ meant being rejected. No, you can’t play with the older, cooler kids. No, you aren’t invited to my birthday party. What if when I say no, I make someone feel like that? Or worse, what if I say ‘no’ or set any kind of boundaries, and I don’t get asked again? What if I say no, and then people don’t like me?

Adult me knows this is screwed up logic, that nothing is that black and white, or shouldn’t be, but when you grow up experiencing conditional love, you learn to accommodate, to please, and to be compliant. Growing up tiptoeing around a father who flew into rages any time he felt crossed, and who would manipulate any situation to make it somebody else’s fault, I have learned to avoid any kind of emotionally charged situation. I am hypersensitive to conflict and go into self-preservation mode whenever I think someone might explode around me. I do whatever I can to keep people happy, including not telling someone ‘no’ or that I don’t want from them what they want from me.

From this same family dynamic I have come to recognise that when I meet new people, my mechanism for evaluating ‘appropriate’ and ‘normal’ behaviour and for recognising and enforcing boundaries is a little messed up. It’s far too easy for someone to slip past my walls and latch on, developing a degree of intimacy (real or imagined) too quickly and too intensely, and I get caught up in the whirlwind, excited to have someone in my life who appears to value me, or who makes me feel needed, regardless of the cost.

In some ways I’ve almost been moulded to expect people to play on my emotions and to intimidate me to get what they want: being manipulated and frightened feels familiar. This was something my abusive ex capitalised on for a year and a half, whose ‘gaslighting‘ behaviour left me questioning not only my judgement but my sanity.

What I have had to recognise since then is my part in these scenarios: I have allowed these relationships to form by not identifying when a situation is unhealthy, and by not setting appropriate boundaries and accepting that it is okay to say ‘no’. If that person reacts badly, exploding at me or otherwise being manipulative, I am probably better off without them. I no longer have the same fear of rejection because I have worked on building up my self-esteem, on my jealousies and insecurities, and for the most part feel confident about my body and about who I am. I no longer need to push myself forward to be seen and heard, afraid that if I don’t I will remain invisible. In fact, I’m quite happy to sit on the sidelines and watch, comfortable that if I’m not at the centre of whatever is happening, if I’m not invited to this event or that, this is no reflection on my value as a person.

I treasure my close friends and know that they value me, and since making this resolution, when new people have tried to enter my life, I have established boundaries and made sure things have developed slowly. In doing this, in not giving in just because something is asked of me, in not being so concerned with whether or not someone likes me that I forget to evaluate whether or not I like them, I have found that people who might once have latched on and developed an unhealthy attachment or who have wanted to be ‘rescued’, have simply slipped away, existing in my life as acquaintances, rather than intimate friends, which is a much healthier place.

The last step in reaching my goal has been realising I need to apply the same filters and set the same boundaries with old friends as well as new. If their behaviour sets off the same alarms, if the friends whose judgement I trust (because I still don’t entirely trust my own) say ‘This person’s behaviour is a little odd’, or I notice their reactions to things aren’t particularly logical, I pay attention. And if someone makes unreasonable demands or rages at me without taking any responsibility for themselves, I’m not going to panic, wanting to make amends, frightened of losing a friend, I’m going to interact with them assertively, like a secure adult, confident in saying ‘no’ and knowing I’ll be okay with or without them.

–A.G.

When a gift isn’t really a gift

By definition, a gift is ‘something that is bestowed voluntarily and without compensation.’ When I give a gift or offer my support or my time, I do so freely, because I want to, because it feels good to, and with no expectations of the recipient. When someone offers something to me, I assume they do so with the same intent, and accept their gift gratefully and graciously. More and more, however, I am learning that some ‘gifts’ aren’t true gifts at all.

There is a flip-side to the expression ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ While you shouldn’t assess a gift’s value, you should be aware some gifts come with strings attached: an expectation and obligation of return. This expectation is never spoken, but recorded in the giver’s emotional ledger, mentally chalked up as something you must repay to an equivalent value (of their measure, not yours) within a time-frame (set by them) that is also unspecified.

This is not to say I don’t feel grateful when people do things for me or give things to me – I do, immensely. Rather, I don’t assume when someone offers a gift (be it time, money or support) that I will be held to account for it. This is because the ‘ledger’ is invisible, unspoken. I am expected to read the gift-giver’s mind and know that their offer of time, money or support, is not in fact a gift, but an exchange.

An example of where the ‘exchange’ is slightly more transparent is where my father offered to ‘give’ my sisters and me our inheritance early – provided we ask for it. Both my sisters have taken him up on this offer, but I have not, and won’t. Aside from my views on inheritances in general (I try to encourage my mum to spend her money during her lifetime rather than miss out on life’s experiences because she is worried about not leaving anything behind), I feel that if I ask for the money, it is no longer a gift. It comes with obligation. If it was a true gift, freely given with no expectation of return, he could simply send me a cheque.

Another complication is my assumption that people will ask for what they want or need. This is something I am able to do fairly readily (with some exceptions), and so I assume that if somebody needs me, they will give me a call, or that if I offer to help out when they need it they will say yes. I suppose I should know better. I grew up with a mother for whom ‘fine’ or ‘if you want to’ meant ‘don’t you dare’ and ‘it’s not fine at all’, but my response instead has been to develop a certain level of intolerance to that kind of passivity (and its flip-side, passive-aggression), and an almost stubborn insistence on taking people at their word. If they don’t speak up, they miss out. This doesn’t mean I don’t offer to help unless someone speaks up, but I expect that when I do offer, they will say yes or let me know what they need, even if that need is a sympathetic ear, or a request to be left alone.

The problem is that in relationships my preparedness to ask for what I want and need and my assumption that others will do the same, means I can find myself clocking up an unspoken debt on someone’s ledger.

Not having a ledger myself, when someone does something wonderful for me, offers their assistance or support in a time of need, I acknowledge and appreciate their efforts. I also take from that experience and learn how I might do the same for someone (possibly someone else) in a similar situation when and if the opportunity arises. I suppose on the ledger-system, I am paying my invisible and unacknowledged ‘debt’ forward, rather than back, but this does nothing to change my ‘balance’ in the ‘creditor’s’ eyes.

Repayment in kind also may not register with the creditor. They may expect like for like (not that they ever tell you this), so while they are buying you presents or helping you move house, you’re listening to their relationship troubles or looking after their pets, neither of which does anything to lower your debt.

Sometimes the creditor will also have an expectation of return at a particular point in time that it may not be possible to meet, and so no matter what else is happening or what other gifts you have given, your repayment ‘bounces’. Many years ago I missed a friend’s birthday because it coincided with the only time of year that my husband and I could both take leave to travel. She never mentioned it at the time, but dropped it in conversation years later somewhat nastily. Her unspoken expectation meant that I had unwittingly disappointed her, and no matter that I planned around her at other times, those ‘payments’ did not register towards my debt.

Lastly there are those who keep ledgers who expect you to mind-read the ledger’s existence and who need you to remain in debt to them. As David Wong writes in ‘5 Ways You’re Accidentally Making Everyone Hate You’, for these kinds of people this personal ledger disparity is about power: as long as they feel they are doing more for you than you for them, they have something over you, and that’s exactly how they want it. These are the people who always buy you gifts that substantially exceed the monetary value of yours, and who show up to a party you’re hosting with half a dozen dishes and three bottles of wine when most people would bring one of each at most. For these people nothing you ever do will repay your debt because a weird kind of reverse ‘interest’ accumulates: as soon as you pay the amount ‘owed’, they will up the ante. To repay again will leave you broke.

Luckily I have other friends in my life who approach the giving of gifts in the same way as me, and who don’t keep a tally of who-did-what-for-whom, and who I assume (like me) will say no when they need to and yes when they want help. Undoubtedly one person will end up doing more for the other at different points, listening more than talking, spending more time or money or effort, because people have different needs at different times, and that’s the way life tend to pan out. As corny as it sounds, I figure we have a lifetime for things to more or less balance out.

Then there are situations where ledger or no, giving and giving and giving does not actually help the recipient and may become detrimental to you. Say someone has an addiction or a mental health  problem and won’t seek professional help. Your giving too much could be enabling them to remain in a bad situation. In these instances cutting your losses and walking away might be the healthiest option for you both.

The underlying problem with the whole ledger-approach is that it’s not made explicit. People have different strengths and abilities and so show their love and kindness in various ways, while individuals’ circumstances vary and each situation requires its own approach. This means gifts may not come in the same form as they were given, at a particular point in time, or even to the person from whom they were once received. I don’t keep tabs and I don’t keep score, but on balance I feel that I give as much as I receive, and to be honest if I knew that a present or an offer of assistance or time came with an unspoken obligation, I might find a way to politely decline. Perhaps the old expression would be better worded, ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but do ask what the giver wants from you in return.’

-RP