[Image at right from the Celestial
Heavens/Might and Magic site]
In a comment the other day over at the Querulous Squirrel’s treetop lair, I ad-libbed a suggestion for people facing what are commonly called “nervous breakdowns”: name them. Please forgive the self-citation (which feels to me like a breach of Interweb etiquette):
Every “nervous breakdown” should have its own term, because every one is different from every other — and its, um, its significance is too great to let it go unnamed.
Somewhere, no doubt, someone has collected the names of all the demons and imps of Hell. Maybe every one of us who’s had a “nervous breakdown” should consider assigning it the name of a demon…
I did some looking around and found just such a (brief) collection. It’s here. As I described it in the rest of that comment:
…names and descriptions to fit many moods and ways of regarding a breakdown, from the scary to the wry. There’s even a Leonard. “When I first met Leonard, he scared the living crap out of me. Now I know he’s just the biggest jerk I ever met.”
Then today I encountered, at Colleen Wainwright’s communicatrix blog, a post about (in part) remembering trying times gone by. In that post, Colleen referred to someone she called “The Resistor.” As you can see for yourself in her post, The Resistor is/was not one of her best friends. His or her story — what The Resistor had done to Colleen in the past — just sounded too interesting to ignore. I had to learn about that “that rat bastard” for myself, so followed the link she’d conveniently provided… and discovered that The Resistor wasn’t a person. The Resistor was (is?) a feature of Colleen’s own internal landscape.
I’ll turn the mike over to her for a moment:
The Resistor needs no one and nothing — except something to push against, and everyone else does a damned fine job of providing fodder. The Resistor is very well developed, very smart and very, very strong…
It is indifferent to pain, although it seems to find it interesting or even amusing. But it doesn’t derive pleasure from causing pain. Far from it. It enjoys pushing back, period. Hence, the Resistor’s particular gift at shape-shifting (and, perhaps, a wee bit of pride in its highly refined abilities in this area.)
…[My hypnotherapist] tried every way he knew of to bring the Resistor to the side of Light, much to the amusement of the Resistor, who patiently, if a little condescendingly, kept insisting that was not a possibility.
Can I possibly tell you how much I love this picture of The Resistor?
(While you’re there, by the way, be sure to visit via her generous linkage her posts on the other denizens of her self, as revealed through hypnotherapy: Monkey Brain, The Edge, and the rest.)
In arguments and debates, we’re constantly told, we shouldn’t make things — or take them — “personal.” We’re supposed to keep things rational and objective. We’re not aggressing; we’re… we’re discoursing. Because humans are, after all, creatures of reason.
Haha: I know. Just kidding! But whether or not anyone actually follows those rules of delicate engagement, I think you can turn personalization into a weapon, maybe even a potent one.
As a real-world example: years ago — maybe still — one of the chief tools which programmers had for assuring the quality of a program (and/or its design) was called the walk-through. You’d invite a couple other people from your project team, and maybe one or two others from outside, to a meeting. Beforehand, you’d distribute copies of the program code, logic, design, whatever. And at the meeting, after presenting your understanding of how the code (etc.) solved whatever problem was meant to be solved, you’d ask these other programmers to pick holes in your baby.
Sound familiar, writers? Sure — it’s like a writer’s workshop, or a crit group. And as with them, a walk-through had one fundamental rule: talk about the product, not the person who produced it. You could say, for example, “This section might work better if the program had already read a record from the file, so it wouldn’t have to keep re-reading the same one.” The off-limits version would start something like: “I think you made a mistake here in lines 12 through 31…”
See? If you personalize the advice, you risk putting the work’s creator on the defensive — making it harder to accept the advice, no matter how reasonable or well-intentioned, how useful it may be.
The other side of this coin, though, is that personalizing can come in handy when you WANT to rattle someone. Who do all writers have in common that they’d like to unnerve, throw off-balance, send packing?
Procrastination. Obsession with minutiae. Distractability. Discouragement. Envy.
(Who knows — there are five right there; maybe you can get the number up to seven, not merely naming them but shrinking them to the stature of quirky little people who live in a cottage.)
Ever try naming these opponents? Leonard, say? Or the ominous-sounding Resistor? Darth? Or the names of demons, succubi who affix themselves to you and suck the life out of you at times when, damn it, you need all the life you can muster?
Not what, but who is the biggest enemy you battle in your head? What’s his name? Name the enemy, and assert a measure of control over him.
I choose (today!) my damned willingness to be sidetracked from what matters. I name this demon… Marko.
Marko, you lazy bastard: I’m tired of picking up after you all the time. Get the heck out of my way. And take your dirty socks and your computer hardware and “cool software,” your springtime birdsong, your smartphone, your anthologies of trivia — take it all, load it into the car, and just… just go.
How ’bout you? You have somebody to chase out of the house that’s in your head?
_____________________
PS: This seems like a perfect occasion, for a number of reasons, to introduce this song from Ry Cooder’s Bop Till You Drop album:
[Below, click Play button to begin. While audio is playing, volume control appears at left — a row of little vertical bars. This clip is 4:57 long.]
Lyrics:
Trouble You Can’t Fool Me
(by Ry Cooder)Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
Trouble you can’t fool me
Trying to get the ups on me
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
You want to jump on meWork hard for living, wanted just to get paid
But, sure’d be stealing for a year and a day
Would like to see a little sunshine, just to guide my way
Would like to have a little peace of mind
That’s why I wanna say you better look out !Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
Look out! Trouble you can’t fool me
Trying to get the ups on me
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
You want to jump on meTrouble taught me a lesson I never never will forget
Now, he took my love, she ain’t paid it back yet
I had to find another just to take her place
And I sure do love her, I said we’re doing okaySo look out!
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
Look out! Trouble you can’t fool me
Trying to get the ups on me
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
You want to jump on meWell, you know, everyday can’t be Sunday [That’s right!] It’s a funny thing, it seem just before daylight is your darkest hour
And you know one thing [What’s that?] Behind every silver lining, there isn’t a dark cloud
[And you just ain’t got time to go ’round
Subtracting and adding ’cause you’ll just be too late] You know one thing? [What’s that?] Every time you get around a tree,
You better stop and grab a brick [Why?] Old man Trouble…
Laying and waiting on youThat’s what I wanna say…
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
Look out! Trouble you can’t fool me
Trying to get the ups on me
Trouble you can’t fool me
I see you behind that tree
You want to jump on meTrouble took my money, Cadillac’s gone
Best suit of clothes, all raised up in the closet, oh Lord
But I’m so glad
Trouble don’t last… always
You can’t fool me…
cynth says
One of the things I discovered while writing is that the “Nanny” is always there. She is constantly suggesting that I have other more important things to do: take out the trash, empty the dishwasher, “for God’s sake, put your clothes away!”. Said in kind of a sing-songy voice that makes you want to believe that she is looking out for your best interests. It takes a lot some days to put her in the closet along with the ghoulies, ghosties and beasties that go bump in the night, just to get some thoughts down.
Perhaps nannies aren’t really like that, but mine is!
Recaptcha: progress caves?
marta says
The Looping Queen with her wand of neurosis. The Looping Queen thinks like this–
I have finished writing this story and should let someone read it but if I say the story is finished and they read it they will realize I’m an idiot because of course it isn’t good enough to be done and they will think this it? But maybe I’m thinking it is bad just because I am scared and actually it is good and I should get over myself and share it but maybe I think that because I’m grandiose and delusional or maybe people will think I’m really fishing for compliments or showing off but that would mean…
You get the idea.
recaptcha: grown missile
The Queen’s got some of those too.
Colleen Wainwright says
Ry Cooder. He knows a thing or two about a thing or two.
Good for you, fighting the good fight. And keeping eyes in the back of your head. B/c the Resistor (and the Looping Queen, and the Nanny), he does like to come back for a repeat visit.
(We leave our recaptchas here? Mine is: the glumness. Ha!)
John says
After posting this, I remembered The Sh!tbird on My Shoulder, the creature who looks like a murderous “coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs!” bird and says things like:
He was there when I remembered him, too. He said, “Hahaha — what an idiot! So much for your so-called ‘memory’!”
cynth: The Nanny doesn’t speak in Fran Drescher’s voice, does she? That bit about pretending she’s got your best interests at heart — yeah! That must be something these creatures all study at Succubus School. Its expression takes many forms, from pat-you-on-your-head-and-humiliate-you to drill-sergeant-tough-love.
marta: Oh yes, I recognize the Looping Queen. She’s particularly good, isn’t she, at coming up with new and inventive ways to say the same thing?
The other night on American Idol, a contestant sang a cover of “You’re No Good,” performed a la a not-quite Linda Ronstadt. As the lyrics flashed in closed captions at the bottom of the screen — “You’re no good/You’re no good/You’re no good/Baby you’re no good,” repeatedly — I thought to myself, like, Jesus — there’s got to be more than one way to say that! Some lyricist like your Looping Queen may be what I had in mind.
Colleen: Well, hi! I have a feeling the Resistor may be particularly good at not just sneaking up from behind, but also lurking around the corner as you approach, watching over your shoulder for him. I can sort of hear his deep booming laughter when he startles the bejeezus out of you.
To no one in particular: I noticed, by the way, that nearly all these creatures tend to apostrophize us — to address us in the second person and thereby personalize their own “advice.” All do that so far, in fact, except marta’s Looping Queen, who talks to her in the first person. Now, that is one sadistic inner voice. (Or is it masochistic?)
Jules says
Oh, but Marko also makes you interesting, makes you smart. Marko makes you spend an hour or two on the web, researching the tiny detail of a post you’ve read about. I know, I know. He can be a pain. But give him a hug, too. Marko is proof that you are someone who reads carefully and considerately. And has curiosity about the world.
At least I think so.
I’ve got my own Rat Bastard, too. (I’ll just call him that.) He tells me I can’t write. And Cynth’s Nanny stops by my house, too. A lot.
John says
Jules: I cannot tell you how greatly Marko appreciated your generous comment!
Mostly, I cannot tell you because I don’t know how greatly he appreciated it. He’d just finished reading it when he wondered if there’s a god of generosity, and/or a patron saint of it, and wandered off to the dusty libraries of the Internet.
P.S. Yes and (apparently, and obviously) yes.