The Working Models Behind Stress and Low
Self-Esteem
08/18/2015,
Josh Korda, Huffington Post
We all operate
in life in accordance with internal belief systems or
"internal
working models." These models are a
collection of expectations and assumptions based on our early,
formative experiences in life: the interactions between ourselves
in our first two or three years of life and our caretakers. These
developmental events form lasting imprints on the young,
impressionable mind, shaping how we view ourselves, other people
and the surrounding universe.
It is sadly ironic, and obviously hindering to the healing process,
that so many of the root experiences that continue to shape our
behaviors and self-views occurred before
we're capable of creating narrative memories;
in other words, the core of our behavioral patterns are established
by events -- interactions with caretakers essentially -- that we'll
never be able to recall.
We act in accordance with inner road maps that are largely unknown
to us directly, as they're stored in a largely unconscious,
behind-the-scenes region of the brain (if we
follow Allan
Schore's groundbreaking hypothesis,
essentially the right hemisphere of the frontal lobe, which manages
our emotional and relational experience). These beliefs influence
our behavior via a variety of ways:
• creating underlying physical sensations -- the
clenched jaw, locked muscles, abdominal muscles that contract
during challenging experiences;
• manipulating our breathing patterns creating
excitation;
• activating the vagal-vagus nerve to create
chest-clenching sensations during abandonment scenarios;
• triggering panic attacks;
• frustrating the rational brain -- the left
hemisphere of the frontal lobe -- by pulling our attention back,
again and again, to the dramas we're obsessing over. In contrast to
the left, the right hemisphere works behind the scenes, providing a
vigilant lookout for any experience reminiscent of wounding,
childhood abandonments; spotting a possible rejection scenario in
the present, it can direct awareness against our will, focusing on
the very people we'd prefer to forget.
Only occasionally will some of these core beliefs
surface as conscious thoughts: in those rare conversations where we
find ourselves, revealing those deepest views of "the way things
are" to others, revelations of generally hidden philosophies of
self and other.
If we work with others in a healing capacity, we'll
watch as the suffering constantly seek verification and support for
the very views and beliefs that are maintaining our suffering;
people tend to seek confirmation for dualistic blame -- shame
schemes, one moment denouncing bosses, spouses, friends, colleagues
as the culprits who've caused their addictions or depression; other
times blaming themselves in an entirely unconstructive way,
explaining that they're "damaged" or "broken," incapable of
thinking or acting in skillful ways. It's akin to the alcoholic in
denial, for the very patterns of blame and self-loathing that keep
them trapped in pathological addictions and perceptual
distortions.
"In someone goes
along with a distorted view, wrong understanding of life arises. If
one has a wrong understanding of life, wrong intentions arise. From
wrong intentions, wrong speech arises ... wrong actions ... wrong
livelihood ... wrong effort ... wrong mindfulness ... wrong
concentration arises." (Avijja Sutta)
Rather than questioning our beliefs about how the world operates,
which the Buddha taught as a necessary quality in happiness and
liberation, we invariably seek a confirmation of our perceptions,
further enslaving us to the damaging behaviors that result from
these views. To employ an analogy, someone losing their hearing can
blame others for "talking too softly" or "mumbling." Or, with
clarity provided by calm reflection, note a pattern of being unable
to hear others in various situations, and realize that the problem
is not with the world, but with the way its being perceived. In
other words, we become aware of our distorted perceptions by
observing patterns of experience, rather than reacting to
appearances.
Let's investigate another example: if, during our
childhood years, we were excessively directed and intrusively
monitored by one or more parents, what results in adult years is
"engulfment fear," a shunning of intimacy, in which we pull away
when others seek any form of emotional commitment or disclosure.
Driven by this pattern, we may blame each successive partner for
our retreat from intimacy, failing to see the pattern, or road map,
that's directing the behavior. As the pattern grows increasingly
apparent, we may even seek approval for our views and behavior from
friends, demanding an agreement that "romantic partners are too
demanding." In short, we fail to see patterns that us imprison us
and then demand allegiance to the resultant
justifications.
When we walk into a social gathering filled with
strangers we automatically prepare ourselves to act in accordance
with our self-views; as working models of self-and-other they
predict how strangers will react to our presence. These underlying
perspectives filter our experiences, akin to wearing an unnoticed
pair of lenses that are subtly distorting everything we experience
in life. Some of us will operate from the underlying assumption
that our needs will be met in the world; when we walk into a social
gathering, for example a party filled with strangers, we'll look
around and act according to the assumption that others will be
friendly and accommodating. Such confidence allows us to
investigate the room and connect with others, free of crippling
hesitancy or fear. This confidence was born in
the earliest
relational experiences of life, where caretakers
displayed consistent, tolerant parenting skills (Winnicott referred
to this as the "good enough mother").
Alternatively, we can wind up empty of empathy or identification
with other people, operating from a constant hunger for attention.
Let's consider the narcissist, for example. There's a time in
childhood, perhaps in the second year of life, when parents are not
as available as they were previously; most of us learn that our
caretakers can be pulled away to focus their attentions elsewhere
(other responsibilities and obligations). These deflating
experiences are essential, as they force us to abandon many of the
grandiose fantasies of early infancy, where our every gesture
brought some degree of attention; suddenly the distracted caretaker
appears, and we have to adapt to a news and forces us to live in a
new reality; every bid for attention is not received.
But the
narcissist bypasses this important stage of development,
as during that stage the caretaker's attention remains approving
and fixed, the child is not relieved of its grandiosity while it
remains in the orbit of the overly rewarding parent. But this
attention comes at a cost. The budding narcissist performs a
display of inauthentic emotions and behaviors to maintain the
caretaker's ongoing admiration: creativity or confidence is
rewarded so long as frustration or sadness is concealed. While the
inevitable and painful phase of losing the parent's attention is
largely avoided, the individual never learns how to process
disconnection. Not knowing how to process abandonment leads to a
terror of it occurring, and so the narcissist develops their
defense, which is a "false self" possessed of all the qualities
that can insulate them from disappointment and rejection; they are
superior to others. To maintain their sense of superiority and
immunity to rejection, a narcissist seeks cheerleaders, as if
people were put into the world to provide an audience; like the
mother or father of infancy, friends, lovers and colleagues are
collected to clap and applaud.
Eventually the Narcissist's False Self becomes an incubator for
addictive behaviors: as pressure builds to maintain constant
approval and recognition, the fear of inevitable abandonment grows;
loss in imminent, as no one can keep up this show forever. And so
the narcissist shops to accumulate a collection of "unique and
valuable objects" that prove his or her worth; he invests in the
stock market to demonstrate amazing business acumen. Pathological
gambling, drug use, drinking, reckless behavior are certain to
follow. Unfortunately, its only when everything fails, and the
"dreaded experience" of traumatic abandonment by others occurs that
the pattern can be seen and the Narcissist be expected to seek
help.
Others come to expect that their needs will never be
met, while everyone else in the room seems to be popular and knows
the secret to getting attention and success in the world.
Navigating through life via this perspective, we'll expect others
to reject or our emotions and needs, so we don't bother to play the
game of human intimacy. The world is a dangerous place where other
people are not interested in our happiness; other people are
essentially uncaring. The distortion makes us overlook how much we
need connection with others. Like forgoing sustaining amounts of
food, shelter, medicine, if we give up on empathetic support from
others, we weaken and never flourish.
In this way karma -- our actions and thoughts, which
neurally ingrain future tendencies and states of mind -- is based
on our working models and is self-reinforcing. Every time we avoid
the risks involved with asking for help from others, shrinking from
the possibility of love or compassion, we
reinforce the view we won't get what we need. Our road
maps (or, in Buddhist lingo, wrong views) are the ultimate cause of
this debilitating feedback loop: If we can't perceive the real
conditions that are occurring in each moment, we wont see what's
available to us -- we'll seek out people who are cold and
rejecting, while overlooking the kind and generous. We won't ask
for what we need. If we can see other people without this distorted
perceptions, which are based on past interactions with entirely
different individuals, we may become aware that there's far more
help available than our predispositions or programming would have
us believe.
Now, if we carry around a view that other people are essentially
unkind, we may immediately resort to manipulative behaviors to get
our needs met; rather than asking for cooperation, we'll maneuver
in ways to get what we want with less risk of rejection. We may
resort to lies, subterfuge or threats (emotional blackmail);
eventually we'll stumble and fail; our relationships will
inevitably suffer. Or we may eventually resort to presenting to the
world what Winnicott called a "false
self:" we'll
say or do whatever it takes to get our needs met; shunting aside
our authentic moods and feelings, we'll offer inauthentic
behaviors, performances of enthusiasm or limitless acts of
accommodating acts, all in the hope we'll eventually win our fair
share of the pie. Rather than presenting ourselves authentically,
we act out what we believe they want.
The inauthentic strategy might work were it not for one significant
drawback: no one can sustain a performance for hours on end, much
less an entire lifetime. Eventually we slip up and feel our pesky,
real emotions and impulses start to arise; we panic, fearing that
if other people may see through the cracks in the facade,
discovering who we really are, and everything we've accomplished in
the charade will fall apart. Even if we succeed in accomplishing
great feats -- becoming successful lawyers or business people in
the hunt for acceptance and love -- we'll feel a barren emptiness
where self-worth should reside, for the acceptance we've received
is not for our authentic, spontaneous, true selves.
As we force ourselves into the shapes and behaviors
we believe other people expect, resentment and anger grows. We're
suppressing needs after all, just for a modicum of acceptance from
others. Moral outrage invariably arises, as other people are only
accepting a false presentation: how dare they! Many relationships
end in this sad drama, for when we finally show our true selves,
all the hidden weaknesses, sadness and fears, our "significant
others" and close friends will look at us dismay and respond with
some confusion, rather than the acceptance we crave: Why have we
been deceiving them for so long?
And so these measures reinforce the belief that the
world is fundamentally rejecting and uncooperative. Stress and
suffering, in the form of agitation, are the inevitable
results.