I want to talk about denial through the lens of a situation I had with a client.
First, some housekeeping. I’m not calling denial “good” or “bad.” I try to look at all behavior on its own terms or in the purpose I think it’s serving. I think many people struggle to understand this without idiot-proof examples. Is yelling bad or good? You bring your-brain-specific baggage to the question. Yelling, in and of itself, isn’t anything but raising your voice. What you’re saying, to whom, or why deeply matter. What purpose the yelling serves the person doing it is part of what I’m looking to explore.
I think denial is part of the, so-named, “human condition.” I don’t think it’s possible to escape from some level of it. I think, colloquially, I would point to religiosity as the crown jewel example along the spectrum, and perhaps self-affirming singular ego-boosting lies on the low end. I think we’re often jolted into reflexive denial any time someone attempts to put us on the defensive, whether they sincerely have a point or not.
My client was keeping too much stuff. She was a resident in a shared sober-living house. She had boxes filled with her things that packed the closet and portions of the floor.
Before we continue, it should be stated, it is against the rules to have that much stuff for what are hopefully obvious reasons. We had been doing a poor job enforcing consequences for violating the rules.
2 days ago, we had to start being of greater consequence. This involved going to her room and attempting to ask about each piece of the stuff whether it needed to be there or not. There were 3 boxes of food, none of which is allowed in rooms, so easy ask and answer. There were boxes of random decorations. When asked about them, the response was, “What? We’re not allowed to decorate and make it feel homey or look nice?” When asked about a box of clearly chaotically “organized” papers, it was asserted, “My papers!” with no acknowledgment of their relevance or use.
The owner of the house was taking boxes and putting them outside the bedroom. If she stepped away for 1 minute, my client proceeded to bring the boxes back in. This happened 3 different times in the span of 10 minutes. We’re there to take things out, she’s physically exercising the exact opposite behavior, and tensions are growing. The owner gets exasperated and eventually discharges my client. This is one exchange over the course of months where the client has otherwise rebuked or ignored instruction, and on the day of elevated consequences, they hit the roof.
The story is a tragic one, not least of which because my client would often repeat “I’m doing everything I need to do.” This is a cliche in the addiction world. It’s a quick nothing-phrase meant to placate over what you’re not doing while you, maybe, do the bare minimum accidentally or with minimal intention. This client struggled with listening-to-respond, which is a way to say “not listening,” such that any instruction given was immediately reacted to with “the fight.”
“The fight” is a move anyone acquainted with the internet will recognize from the comment section. It’s introducing an erroneous question. It’s skipping off on some random point they’ll dare you to engage. They’re not able to hear you, they’re only able to open the firehose of their defensive barking. The denial they’ve been utilizing to protect themselves from the emotional or practical consequences reaches its zenith.
Protection. That’s a “safe” word you’re probably going to invoke any time you’re making a bid to sound “reasonable.” You only want to ban the book to protect the children! After all… You want to protect your emotional and psychological well-being, so you ghost what you think or caricature as someone beneath you, but ultimately yourself who can no longer emotionally mature. We know what happens to people who stay “protected” from the horrors of being alive for too long or in the wrong ways. They get victimized or they become said horrors.
My clients struggle with “addiction.” Whether they’ve taken my advice to explore what that even means to them as an individual or not is on them. I think addiction is no better defined than by the automatic or compulsive nature of your behavior. You don’t feel like you have control, therefore you become unable to discover how to exercise control. When I talk about control, I mean literally any intentional decision. Choosing to take 10 seconds to breathe in and out. Choosing your volume in a discussion. Choosing to crack a joke, stretch out your clenched jaw, or to walk away.
Addiction inverts the concept of choice. You’re on auto-pilot, feeling in every direction, landing on whatever manifests. It can be violence, use, or reaching out to the people that will result in both. Why? Because you feel…* You feel, overtly, 10 out of 10 on a scale you’ll only use when it’s reached 10, and that becomes an infinite glitch that justifies your course of action or inaction.
I get arm-chair diagnosed a lot for literally anything I put online, ever. I’m told what I think, where I’m coming from, what’s going on in my life, and how I, coincidentally, always sound like the worst version of a person that commenter can imagine. The secret of those exchanges is that, to me, I’m just dealing with another addict. They’re addicted to “detached,” “ironic,” and condescending internet-speak. They’re flowing with the broken cultural norms without a care in the world. If they felt like they had a choice, they might not be on the internet at all, let alone to contribute in tired and based ways at every invitation.
It’s the water we’re swimming in. I’m not above it all when I dare to post. You’re not above it all when you, confidently, tell me what you think “the world” thinks about something I say. But, I’m arguing, this exercise is where I show you how choices are made. I’m demonstrating how I develop language and a position towards my behavior and yourself. I’m not just barking back, as often as it will be caricatured that way. I’m not desperately and exasperatingly effusive because I can’t help myself.
From both my client and the owner there was a moment where they were going tit-for-tat clapping back at each other. Me, standing there, “Hey, don’t respond,” to my client who, shocker, continued to respond. I’ve witnessed the owner on a couple of occasions react as poorly to clients in the past, telling them they can, “Get the fuck out!” if they don’t like the rules. The first couple times I saw this, as a professional, I winced. I’ve spent years in social work, from DCS, to prison, counseling, and I’ve gotten just a pinch too loud with exactly one person, slightly influenced by the fact that at that point I was standing on the other end of her lawn.
After I physically stood between them and calmly asked the owner, “Do you want to just, handle this…” and then motioned in a “We have the power to discharge” way, and she said yes and walked away.
I’m someone who regularly practices his sense of agency and power. That is, I never have to scream at you. If I want to, I will, but it’s never “have to.” My power isn’t able to persuade you to throw out your disallowed shit. I’ll throw it out myself. If you can’t be bothered to handle your own business, I’ll throw you out too. When I worked for the state, that meant I had to write a one-page document detailing to a judge what I needed. When I drove people to visit with their children, that meant I coordinated the schedule you needed to be prepared for. When I was in prison, it meant you advanced when you wrote, sincerely, about what I asked you to write about, not because you hung out for 3 months and felt entitled to graduate.
I genuinely don’t believe people feel the same kind of power I have. I think it’s the same kind of protection mechanism kicking in. I can destroy significantly easier and more than I could ever build. I don’t need persuading of that, I’m not afraid of it, and I’m not ashamed. I’m an animal first. Animals don’t give a fuck, but for some reason if you say that out loud you’re often trying to wear it as a special person badge. No, my cats don’t give a fuck either. I could cook and eat them both, today, between this word and the next. I bet you magically manifested a fuck to give about that idea.
My client dutifully and desperately bringing those boxes back into the space that needed cleared is such a visceral example.
I want you to think about the box that needs cleaning in your heart, mind, or gut. My money is on it having something to do with how you treat someone or they treat you. Then I think it’s something to do with how you waste your time. Then I think it’s something about being lonely or insecure. Whether I’m right or wrong, I’m speaking to the “you” that is the “human condition” invoked above. You’re not special. You do give a fuck. And you’re playing out in big and small ways every piece of why your life looks good or bad in every tortured waking moment.
Denial’s final form is suicide. To be a conscious agent is a lot of terrifying and confusing work. Deny it ultimately in service to death. There’s a lot of cuts you can make of yourself along the way.
This is why the language you use to describe your life and behavior matters so much. This is why finding and developing the language altogether is crucial and necessary to live in a remotely stable or healthy way. This is why we cling to what are perceived as stable sources of language and lessons we can’t be bothered to sort out for ourselves. This is why my 1,272nd attempt to ground my thoughts into coherent words is going to feel more compelling and persuasive to me than your internet reactionary sneezes in my direction.
We’re all animals first. We have our instincts. We have our encultured quirks and self-destructive celebrations of the absurdity. We’re not all human. We’re not mostly in control most of the time. You know why science-denying and literal predators and pedophiles are in charge? Because we’re still the problem and they represent where “we” are as a species. We shouldn’t be “shocked” that the jungle and plains are operating like the jungle and plains.
I’m not going to mourn my client any more than I’m going to mourn the cats and raccoons that litter my country roads. Not because I don’t give a fuck, but because it’s the predictable consequence of animal behavior paired with run-you-over technology. Meth, cocaine, heroin, fentanyl, alcohol, and every other drug are run-you-over technology. Act like an animal and the scavengers will pick you apart.
The internet is run-you-over technology. The speed at which you can overwhelm your individual sense of agency or control is infinitely scrolling through your brain. The people pretending to be in control are as reactive animals as anyone. Money doesn’t turn you into a conscious agent. Being “smart” enough to manipulate circumstances rarely pairs with any kind of open or shared morality and accountability. Resisting every invitation to react, and react in a basic and telling way, is a muscle almost no one is exercising.
Do you even notice when you’re feeling reactive? Does your stomach drop? Do you get heated? Does your heart race? Are there subjects that keep you off balance? Are there words that trigger you? Can you tell the difference between a “bad” movie and one that’s simply not your taste? Can you tell the story of how your taste developed or stayed undeveloped? If nothing else, whether you “agree” with a single line or not, did you even try? Because the addict says, “I’m trying,” literally while they’re doing the opposite.
