in the shadows where we summer (2 of 5)

One of the barriers to therapy was the fact that I found a lot of my social difficulties to be embarrassing. Just the way I think regarding social interactions, it felt like the sort of thing I should never tell anyone.

When I was a kid, bad counselors made it easier to say nothing.

Then, at age 30, I went through six lame sessions with a bad psychologist. During the fourth of those sessions, I related a particularly difficult anecdote (about hugging) and he couldn't hide his response. In my mind, it confirmed that talking about any of this was mostly likely pointless.

Consequently, when I started sessions with The Doctor a few months later, I was more cautious than ever about what I said, what anecdotes I provided. We started talking in December 2005. Instead of four sessions, I refused to go into any detail regarding social interactions for a period of 8 months.

She waited it out.

August 2006

I shuffle my feet on the floor. Pause for a bit.

M: I haven't been...

I drink coffee. Close my eyes and chase words around.

M: I've been wanting to clarify some of the tangles I've made, with our conversation. To the question of whether or not I am capable of feeling comfortable around a person I have, at various times, answered yes and no. I've been contradicting myself. So, this past week I've been trying to think about this in a more constructive way. A lot of the time in here I am basing observations about myself on pessimism and/or self-loathing and I'm trying to move past that a little bit. And it's occurred to me that much of what I've been saying is at least partially inaccurate. It's not that I do or do not want to connect with people. The problem is that I have been incapacitated by the mechanics of it all, the complexities of it. So, rather than simply acknowledging this difficulty...which would be more helpful...I have been pretending that I have a desire to isolate or that I'm too socially clueless, or whatever. I'm all over the map about that. I've been reacting to a variety of imagined causes instead of examining them.

Doctor: You're verbal today! And your affect is much improved. Maybe this new line of thought is getting you away from some of that negativity.

M: It's probably just the enormous cookie I had before I came in here. It was a gigantic sugar cookie. Freakish. If I crash out in 30 minutes, you'll know.

Doctor: Okay. Continue.

M: Right. So, I was thinking about all of this after a few conversations at work. We had a lot of meetings and trainings this week, so I was interacting with New People more than usual.

I describe several social interactions from the week. I won't repeat them here, they're just long anecdotes about co-worker conversations. But they are basically similar to this interaction with New Friends, where I'm getting overwhelmed by words, gestures and all of the surrounding sensory data.

M: It was frustrating because I couldn't screen anything out. Once I started to feel a little overwhelmed, I couldn't organize anything. I had no idea what people were referring to, and I had to constantly think back to the general context. I had to really focus on how people were acting, talking...piece together the small things that are always relevant, like glances and vocal inflection.

I lose track of what I'm saying.

M: Er, this is a long explanation. I promise this is going somewhere. As I worked through the conversations later on I realized that this is one of the big reasons I rely on social mimicry: there is simply too much going on in a conversation. Too much is streaming in. By pretending to share a persons interests, by scripting my statements, I am minimizing all of the layers of data that are exchanged in a conversation. Does that make any sense?

D: Umm...I'm not there yet.

M: The less information I volunteer, the less likely I am to alter the course of a conversation. When I mimic someone, the conversation tends to stay on a very structured, easy-to-predict path and as a result there is less social data to consider. It's difficult enough just trying to react to one person's social output, their body language and such. If I contribute my own output, things just get even more convoluted and unpredictable. I go off the map, basically. Especially since I can, on occasion, say weird, random shit that doesn't seem to relate to what's going on. I mean, everyone worries about this kind of thing, I just end up being overwhelmed by it. The chin movements, eye movements. The words, the meanings. The lights and noises in a room. All of it.

Just talking about the way I think about the way I think is exhausting, so I tug at the corners of my hair and slowly exhale.

M: I just don't understand how most people make it. It's like, the social data...my mind seems to receive all forms of social data equally. A gesture is as loud as a verbalized sentence; an eye movement is a discussion in itself. When I'm talking to a person, I am hearing multiple conversations at the same time and it's all tangled up and it's hard to keep it all prioritized.

D: I've never heard you describe it this way before. This is really helpful. Are you familiar with the phrase 'cognitive miser'?

M: No.

D: It's a term for the way people process information. It theorizes that the mind will generally choose the path of least resistance with regards to incoming perceptual data. Our full range of vision, for example, would overwhelm us if we lacked the ability to screen out stimuli not directly related to the task at hand. You don't seem to have this, at least not to the extent that others do.

M: I'm, what...a cognitive philanthropist. Terrific.

D: You are. And it really makes sense that you would want to minimize self-expression, I can see what you're getting at. If you're in this vigilance mode, scripting yourself, it's easier to hold back, keep up with what's going on around you. What concerns me is the way that, if an interaction does not go well, or even if it's just stressful, you can be so hard on yourself.

M: I don't know. I think I'm accurate on myself.

D: You seem to have little trouble objectively explaining the behavior of others. You mentioned once that you didn't take bullying personally as a child because you understood the psychology behind picking on others. Why not apply that same objectivity to yourself? Why are you always so hard on yourself yet willing to offer mechanistic explanations for the people around you?

M: I don't know. That does seem like a double standard. Still, I can't escape it. To me, when I point out my failings, I am being objective. Again, it feels accurate to me.

D: What you are saying right now is something very common amongst people suffering from depression. They attribute external causes to the behavior of other people and internal causes to their own behavior. Someone is walking down a sidewalk, for example, strolling along, when suddenly they trip and fall. A depressed person looking on might say, "They tripped on that bump in the sidewalk". But if the depressed person then trips and falls they will say, "I tripped because I'm clumsy." See the difference?

M: Umm...yes.

D: But you're not buying it in relation to your situation.

M: I can't tell. The sugar cookie just wore off. I can't even begin to tell you how tired I am.

D: You should...

M: I don't even know where I am right now.

D: That's okay. We can step back. You really...woo. You described a large quantity of information today. The anecdotes were helpful. I don't know if I can encourage the eating of giant sugar cookies before a session, but if that's the result...

M: Maybe you should get a cookie jar in here, for all of the clients. Someone closes up, just...bloop. Pelt them with sugar.

D: Maybe.