COVER -> RECOMMENDED DAILY REQUIREMENT
ELECTRA - Electra had the problem of being haunted. She felt the need to avenge her father's death, her problem being that one of the targets of this vengeance happened to be her mother. She was driven to the point of madness by her inability to repress.
This flies in the face of what passes for the conventional wisdom nowadays. We are told, prominently by the mental health professionals and their boosters, that repression is a bad thing. If we believe this conventional wisdom, Electra is not tragic -- she is following the "healthy" course of dealing with her trauma.
I, on the other hand, am confronted with the fact that I am not only the King of Guilt, but a Master of Repression. More than once during the last ten years I have had to confront the fact that I'd effectively "buried" some unpleasant incident in my life. As I've mentioned in these pages before, most of my childhood is as blank for me as most of the 1970s are for Keith Richards. I don't remember much of what happened at all. But not just my childhood. I was reminded by my friend of longest standing this week that I've successfully "lost" a couple traumatic incidents of my adult life, too. Call it part of the British influence in my life, but I have always disliked unpleasantness.
Long-time readers know about my guilt-trip over the collapse of my former marriage. You also know how I've explored the good times and bad. Ric, my old friend, reminded me of a bit more of the bad. He commented on a recent Glass House installment that it would have been more interesting if I had delved into why he opposed my marriage.
I had my own ideas as to the why -- that he opposed my choosing to find a mate who was anti-intellectual -- but knowing how much of what we believe we know is false, I decided to ask him about his reasons.
His response was shocking. It was a very clear statement of my talent for repression. He brought up an incident with which I was familiar, but which I had convinced myself was either a paranoid delusion or never happened. But even as I read his searing words, I knew in my heart that it had happened. I had simply buried it.
The incident itself is not one that I would share with you. Suffice it to say that it was an essential betrayal. I shall share with you the bulk of his response. Ric wrote:
There were two things that stand out in my mind: The first was intellectualThe second was emotional.
First you told me you liked being with her because you wanted to be dumb like her. That you were tired of thinking. I thought that was bogus. Reminded me of my old joke about the only way to happiness was to "lobotomize and castrate." But you were intellectualizing about not being an intellectual and I just thought that you couldn't repress your intellect for that long. My argument was that eventually the sex would wear off and then you'd have to talk to her and son of a bitch there wouldn't be anything there.
The second ... Debbie was just after a good time. I mean she was a human being and she had her own dark reasons for the drinking. Same as you. But just as you pointed out the senselessness of me and the Irish artist--I did mine for two months. You did yours for years. I just thought she didn't love you as much as you loved the idea of being in love with her. You wanted to twist yourself too much for the fit. Like the ol' Jewish tailor joke: Here drop your shoulder, pull in your arm, twist your neck--there perfect fit. So you wanted to deny too much of who you were and she could get away with emotional cruelty and flaunted it. And she did it in front of me knowing she'd get away with it, knowing you'd not listen to me. Raw power play and she won. Except she didn't. Except we all lost. The curse of Cassandra I sometimes have.
SO more than anything, two incidents stand out: the conversation in the rock club on Riverside about lobotomizing for love (I mean it's one thing to change religions or put the toilet roll on for a front pull instead of a back, but to give up your raison d'etre?) and .... The first I could've stomached; the second was simply cruel and despicable. Anyway, it was a power issue. Of course, she had power over you and she deliberately did it in front of me which was interesting. I know what third wheels are. I know she was jealous of me and I of her. But was I jealous of Lynda? It was the twist of who you were and the disregard for your public standing... [And my feelings toward her] didn't have a goddamn thing to do with her class. As I recall, Lynda was dirt poor. Something about Debbie -- the boozy blond -- that felt put on. I hope she dropped the act of devil-may-care. She seemed better when I saw her in California. That was six years later. Love is strange. Who knows why it works or doesn't...
"...cruel and despicable..." That seems to be the common thread about most of the memories I've repressed. As I mentioned last Tuesday, I have a difficulty comprehending our human capacity for cruelty. I know it's there and some people have no problem exercising it --- but I block it out.
I remember now that when my father tried to kill me I went to some place deep inside myself from where I was almost outside of my body watching this bizarre event take place. I went to that same deep place during the incident Ric recalled for me. He related being amazed at how unaffected I appeared to be at the time. In both instances, I was amazed too. I had simply shut down. I was gone.And, at this late date, I have to accept that it's my tolerance of the cruelty other people are capable of exhibiting --- because I can't understand its motivation --- that is my emotional blindspot. When the cruelty amps up beyond my level of tolerance, I repress.
This impulse probably springs from the same source as my lack of fascination with auto accidents and sadism. Like the William DeVane character in the film "Rolling Thunder," I short-circuit the pain.
But, I don't think the Electra route is any healthier, thank you very much. I personally think it's worse. I'll bet Orestes would agree with me now.
There is something of forgiveness in repression, I believe, and I'm from the camp that says there's not enough forgiveness to go around in this world.
My other argument in favor of repression is that vengeance is just another flavor of cruelty. So I continue to believe that Electra was tragic.
The human race managed to survive for 5,000 years WITHOUT our fixation with "getting it all out/confronting/confessing" and medicating.
And, yes, I've heard the extrapolation that repressed emotions/memories come back as monsters. But that's anecdotal, at best, and pure claptrap at worst. The function of human consciousness is to order the chaotic input of reality such that the species can survive and prosper; the mind knows what it is doing. If it chooses to repress, maybe there's a darned good reason why. I can't think of a single unpleasant experience in my life that I've been made to recall that I now feel stronger or a better person for now having as part of my memory bank moving forward.
I know you're going to drag me over the carpet for this one, this being the "therapy" society that it is, but I still don't like unpleasantness.
This week's Poll: Mad Cow, Hoof & Mouth --- the spread of food diseases has me...?
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