How to Tell if You’re Projecting

While many of us can identify the process of projection in somebody else, few of us are able to see it in ourselves.  Think about it -- how many times have you stopped yourself and said, "I'm just projecting; this has nothing to do with John"?

Our own projections are difficult to spot, first of all, because we don't want to identify them as such:  the whole point of projecting is to rid ourselves of something unwanted.  While there are instances where people project their good qualities into others, ridding oneself of painful or unpleasant experiences is much more common.  I've discussed these issues in earlier posts about projection and the toilet function of friendship.  Today I'd like to talk about how we can become more attuned to and aware of our own projections, even when we'd rather not.

Projection is an unconscious fantasy that we are able to rid ourselves of some part of our psyche by splitting it off and putting it outside ourselves, usually into somebody else.  While the initial process occurs outside of awareness, maintaining or insisting upon the reality of that projection often occupies our conscious thoughts.  The process is usually distinguished by its focus and intensity.  I can explain this more clearly with an example, one I alluded to in my first post on projection.  Grouchiness is something most of us have experienced; I suspect my description will resonate for many of you and at the same time, give you the chance to study the process the next time you feel grouchy and see if my explanation makes sense.

So at the end of my work day, I may be feeling irritable because (I believe) members of my family are doing things I find annoying.  In my thoughts, I may begin to zero in on those irritating behaviors -- say, that person's irksome habit of constantly complaining about his or her daily stresses.  These irritations may become preoccupations; I may find myself intensely focused on those behaviors, waiting for them to recur; I may be talking to myself in repetitive ways that have the effect of intensifying my irritation, while at the same time justifying it.  My focus may be exclusively upon the other person with a corresponding lack of attention upon myself and my own body.  The underlying assumption is that the other person is causing me to feel grouchy and if only he or she would stop complaining (as usual!), I'd feel better.

I'm familiar enough with the process by now to recognize it, though without exception, I fight off that recognition every time.  I'll hear myself thinking something like, "Yeah, but this time is different.  That really is irritating."  With effort, I can silence such thoughts.  Silence is key, at least for me; as a fairly verbal person, I find the thought processes that support and justify the projections come in words.  Putting a stop to those words and focusing on my breathing is a crucial first step.  Then I have to shift the focus of my attention away from the other person and into my own body.

I "look" in various places:  my back and shoulders where I carry tension, around my eyes where I register fatigue and sadness, in my belly where I feel hunger and other kinds of longing.  I may notice that my back hurts; I may have the beginnings of a headache.  Often I discover that my body feels tired and a little achy.  I try to hold onto these sensations without "explaining" them in reference to someone else, a difficult and uncomfortable experience.  In the end, I may realize that my own day was stressful, that rather than feeling the depth of my own pain and stress, I'm projecting it outside into someone who complains and whom I mentally criticize.

This is a simple example of owning a projection, and one that many of you will likely be able to replicate.  It's more difficult when we're projecting experiences such as shame or neediness.  In those cases, our entire character structure may be organized around validating the reality of the projection.  The characteristic defenses against shame, for example, have as a common goal projecting damage or unworthiness into other people and then treating them in such a way as to insist upon the validity of the projection -- by blaming or regarding them with contempt.

Finding Your Own Way:

Experiment with grouchiness and let me know what you find.  Does my description of the process hold true for you as well?

Next, think about other areas where an intense focus on or preoccupation with someone else may indicate that a projection is at work.  Do you find yourself dwelling on somebody's else behavior or personality in an intensely critical or angry way?  You may have legitimate reasons, but you may also be projecting something into them.

Some other feelings that may indicate an underlying projection:  contempt (projection of shame), feelings of superiority (projection of neediness ), recrimination (projection of guilt) or envy (projection of an idealized fantasy).  I don't mean to suggest that these are always signs of projections, but when joined to an especially intense preoccupation with the other person, they're a strong indication.

Notice the polarity involved in these projections:  I don't complain about stress and it annoys me that you do.  I feel no shame about my own damage but you're a contemptible loser.  I'm not needy and pathetic like you because I've got it all!  I did nothing wrong and you're entirely to blame.

Now if only I could stop thinking about you.

The Tenacity of Defenses

Despite the fact that clients in psychotherapy long for transformation, very few change anywhere near as much as they'd like (I discussed this in an early post), often remaining trapped in destructive patterns of behavior such as the cycle of crime and punishment; even when they understand that the repeated behaviors they engage in are harmful, even when they wish to do something different, they can't seem to alter those behaviors enough.  To understand why this is so, it helps to know something about the nature of defenses as well as our neuro-anatomy.

Psychological defenses are lies we tell ourselves when we can't bear the emotional truth.  Deeply entrenched defenses -- the kind that form a part of our character, our personally distinct way of navigating emotions and relationships -- originally came about because we had no other way to cope with pain as we were growing up.  If we'd had other psychological resources during childhood, we wouldn't have needed to develop these strong defenses in the first place.  Once they've been active for years, they're extremely difficult to change because they're neurologically habitual.  Let me explain.

Every emotion or thought you have is a chemical/neurological event; each defense has a set of neural pathways associated with it in your brain and the more powerfully entrenched the defense, the more deeply "etched" those neural pathways.  I like to think of defenses as deep ruts in a well-traveled road.  Whenever you travel familiar upsetting terrain, you'll tend to fall into those ruts -- that is, you'll use the same old defenses -- just as a wheel will slip into an actual rut.  You might be able to lift the wheel out of that rut for a time, but unless you exercise constant vigilance, it will always fall back in.  Always.  It's like the force of gravity, virtually inevitable.  In order to stay out of that rut, you either have to change the emotional terrain or figure out some other way to navigate it.  Even when you develop other techniques -- laying down new "ruts", so to speak -- the old ones will always be a problem because they've been around much longer, with years of heavy traffic to dig them deeper.

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The Cycle of Crime and Punishment in Psychotherapy

I'm sure my fellow psychotherapists have had this same experience:  a client comes into session after having done or said something that they previously vowed not to do, or which they feel somehow damages them; they are burdened with horrible guilt.  Maybe she was trying hard not to use drugs and slipped the night before, or maybe he slept with his old girlfriend even though he knows she's bad for him.  It could be something as simple as going off a diet.  During session, they go on about how guilty they feel and spend a lot of time berating themselves in a punitive way.  As therapists, we may try to help them understand the reasons for their behavior, or make a connection to some emotional stress that played a role.  We may feel compassion for their suffering, bringing real insight to their psychological and emotional motivations.  Several weeks later, they repeat the same behavior and return to session in the same guilty and self-punitive mindset, as if the previous session had never taken place.

My own therapist referred to this as "the cycle of crime and punishment."  I find it a very useful concept that helps to explain why some clients don't benefit from insight and understanding.  It's as if they view their backsliding as a crime that must be severely punished in a self-flagellating way; once they have undergone said punishment, however, they feel that they've expunged all guilt for their crime and regard the subject as closed, in the past.  It is exactly analogous to our penal system, which inflicts punishment on those who commit crimes but regards them as completely free once they have paid their debt to society. The psychological cycle of crime and punishment prevents people from learning from their experience and condemns them to repeat the past, just as the over-emphasis on retribution (as opposed to rehabilitation) in our penal system does little to help incarcerated criminals avoid returning to a life of crime after their release.

Such clients are trapped in their cycle of crime and punishment because they don't know how to learn from their experience.  They usually come from extremely impoverished backgrounds.  You might think the parents would have been harsh and perfectionistic, and sometimes this is the case; often it's simply that they have few psychological resources and little to pass along in the way of wisdom or emotional capacity.  They generally model primitive reactions to turmoil -- rage, denial, projection, etc. -- and the emotional environment feels dangerously confusing to their children.  For some people who come from such families, a harsh, exacting conscience pulls them out of the chaos, painting some very black-and-white lines in order to alleviate the confusion about what's good and what's bad in their world.  Sometimes they can be sharply moralistic because it is their "morality" that saves them from the mess of their childhood.

While this kind of morality has its emotional survival value, people burdened with it lack the genuine capacity to bear with and understand their own experience.  They only know how to condemn it, keeping it under lock and key.  Eventually, under extreme pressure, the forbidden impulse slips out:  crime inevitably leads to punishment.  I think you can see how Catholicism might complicate this picture.  With its system of sins and penance, that religion leaves little room for an understanding of the emotional factors that might lead people to "sin" and simply specifies the means to atone for those sins, regarded as inevitable.

In working with such clients, it's crucial to help them see and understand this dynamic.  They need to see how they allow themselves only two options:  complete success or utter failure.  No gray areas, no step-by-step growth.  That's actually the easier part.  Then the work must help them to develop the capacity to learn from experience.  As that's a rather large subject in itself, I'll save it for another post.

Finding Your Own Way:

Are you the sort of person who beats yourself up when you make a mistake or slip in some way?  Do you find yourself getting extremely angry with yourself for things you do but then committing the same "crimes" again and again?  Examine your system of personal expectations.  You might find that your particular standards reflect very little understanding of the psychological and emotional reasons for doing what you do.  You probably expect yourself simply to "be different" or "stop behaving that way."  Even if you do have some insight and understanding, you may have no idea how to make use of it; you may simply expect that insight = change and you're a failure if it doesn't.

As I've discussed in my piece on self-criticism, this kind of conscience reflects an expectation that one shouldn't have to struggle in order to learn and grow.  To break free of this cycle, you'll need (for starters) to confront your unrealistic expectations and come to terms with the difficulty of genuine growth. While it's painful to suffer from this kind of self-punishment, it's also extremely difficult to take small steps, to recognize and value little changes along the way.  It may take years to grow the kind of emotional capacity you need, possibly in therapy.  Instead, you may simply insist that you "get over" your problem rather than growing slowly and imperfectly over time.

Think again about the penal system analogy.  It's not enough to do your time; you have to develop some new skills in there or you'll simply repeat the same crimes once you've paid off your debt to society.

The Fallacies of Psychological Diagnosis

As you may have heard, the American Psychiatric Association is in the midst of a revision to its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, used to identify different mental illnesses and assign diagnostic labels to patients.  This newest edition, the DSM-V, will be published some time in 2013.   Among the more controversial changes is the elimination of five of the 10 personality disorders currently listed, the best known of which is Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).

This revision seeks to move diagnosis toward a greater emphasis on descriptive traits, based on the undeniable fact that individuals diagnosed with one personality disorder often demonstrate traits associated with another.  As many clinicians have pointed out, the personality disorders exist along a spectrum.  I suppose this refinement in the DSM is a step in the right direction as it appears to treat people a bit more like individuals than categories, but I have a more fundamental problem with the idea of assigning diagnostic labels in the first place.

The fundamental assumption behind the DSM is that its categories of mental illness, with their official code numbers, actually correspond to a discrete syndrome exhibited by real people; in this sense, it is meant to be the psychological counterpart of the International Classification of Diseases 9 (ICD-9) used by physicians to diagnose and label physical illness.  In theory, applying the DSM-IV label Narcissistic Personality Disorder should carry the same weight and have as much scientific validity as an ICD-9 code for, say, diabetes.  The impending elimination of NPD from the DSM-V proves that such an analogy is fallacious.   Can you imagine if the American Medical Association suddenly announced it intended to eliminate diabetes from the ICD-9?
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Celebrity and Romantic Love: “Meaning” in the Modern World

In our modern culture, a huge number of people seem to derive a sense of meaning in their lives through the worship of celebrity (combined with a longing to achieve personal notoriety) and/or the pursuit of idealized romantic love.  I've discussed these issues in my earlier posts on celebrities and love junkies; my good friend Marla Estes has also done extensive work on the subject of romantic love in the seminars she teaches.  I'd like to enlarge those ideas into a discussion of personal values and how we derive a sense of purpose in our lives.

You might have heard about Jake Halpern's book Fame Junkies.  In a survey of several hundred middle-school students in upstate New York, Halpern found that just under 50 percent would prefer to work as a personal assistant to a celebrity over being a university president, corporate CEO, Navy Seal or U.S. Senator.  These students valued mere proximity to a celebrity over other kinds of prestigious work.  Another poll conducted by the Pew Research Center found that the vast majority of 18-25 year-olds surveyed in 2007 listed fortune and fame as the top two goals for their generation.

I find these results discouraging but they come as no surprise.  Grocery store news racks, the ones at the check-out lines, mostly hold magazines with movie and TV stars on their covers.  The shopping public seems to have an inexhaustible interest in famous people and their love lives, even though such stories concern the same mundane events that vast numbers of Americans personally experience:  dating, starry-eyed romance that leads to an idealized wedding, followed by disillusionment, infidelity and broken families.  I'll bet another survey would show that most people would prefer to be a wealthy celebrity going through a painful divorce than a schoolteacher basically satisfied with his or her marriage.  Most people feel that to be famous gives their lives meaning and rescues it from the uninspired realm of ordinary life.

TV reality shows give the average man or woman a chance to participate in that world of celebrity, if only for a brief time.  I believe this is why so many people are willing to expose the most personal and painful details of their lives on nationally-televised shows like Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer.  Quaint notions of privacy or appropriate shame have no force when overpowered by the lure of notoriety.  Maybe my empty life is a total mess, my marriage a shambles and my family alienated from me, but as long as I can be on television, it will nonetheless mean something!
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