Posts Tagged ‘romance’

Hyper-Vigilance and Feedback

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Psychologists vary in precisely what they mean when using the term vigilant or hyper[-]vigilant to describe a personality type. What is common across notions and here relevant is an acute concern about — and sensitivity to — behavior by others that may carry information about intention, about propensity, or about capacity. Hyper-vigilance typically arises as an attempted adaptation in response to seriously hurtful experience; it is in any case a self-defense behavior more focussed on identifying hostile or otherwise threatening intentions, propensities, or capacities, and should be expected to be associated with other defensive behaviors and more generally with personality attributes that arise from injury.

Hyper-vigilance itself is not the same thing as paranoia. When there is an element of irrationality to hyper-vigilance as such, it is in an over-commitment of resources to the tasks of awareness or of interpretation. The hyper-vigilant may otherwise be for the most part rational in their interpretations of behavior. (And one cannot reasonably infer that there is an over-commitment of resources simply from the fact that a hyper-vigilant person is seeking greater awareness.) A paranoid systematically makes important inferences that are themselves unreasonable.

The skills of the hyper-vigilant (and, for that matter, the unreasonable inferential practices of the paranoid) aren't always employed for purposes of self-defense. People may be identified as well-intentioned or peculiarly talented, and cultivated as friends; people may be perceived as having concealed vulnerabilities, and quietly given protection.

When two people interact — whether either is hyper-vigilant or not and so long as they are at all social — they consciously or unconsciously each size-up the other. The behavior of each usually adjusts to anything learned in the present encounter, and that adjustment of behavior may then communicate something new to the other, causing a counter-adjustment on his or her part. When two people have complementary emotional responses each to the other, a feedback loop is creäted, and the responses amplify to some extent. These feedback loops can cause people to take relatively quick and markèd likings or dislikings each to the other.

When hyper-vigilant people interact, complementarity has a still more pronounced effect. They can move to attack or become friends or come to love or indeed fall in love with a speed that startles everyone — including the two people in the feedback loop if they've never considered the dynamic or if they haven't each discerned that the other is not merely ill- or good-willed but also hyper-vigilant. Because hyper-vigilance is a behavior of self-defense, it is likely to be accompanied by a suppression or masking of behaviors that would otherwise expose emotions or reveal defensive abilities or propensities, and hyper-vigilance itself would be one of those behaviors; additionally, a hyper-vigilant person may conceal vigilance to avoid censure (especially as hyper-vigilance is widely equated with paranoia). Thus one or both of two hyper-vigilant people may miss this important insight in the implicit challenge of reading the other, especially when vigilance is operating largely at an unconscious level.

A Passing Anniversary

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

I used occasionally to mention a girl-friend in unfiltered entries to this 'blog, but stopped doing so in 2013. The relationship had problems that I didn't and don't care to discuss here publicly — for her sake.

On 30 August 2013, without warning, she hanged our relationship, strangling, at the end of a rope. I don't know exactly when the relationship should be deemed to have died. I can say, to the day, when I reached acceptance of its death, but I don't imagine that, on the previous day, it might actually have been saved.

de transitv Veneris res

Wednesday, 31 May 2017
002 yr

Again Valentine's Day

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

The Endurance of Love

Tuesday, 31 January 2017

Many months ago, sitting in the bistro that I frequent, I overheard a woman declaring Love never dies! Now, I really don't know the context, and she may have been elliptically expressing some thought with which I would agree, but certainly love does sometimes die. I thought about how and why it dies.

There's something often mistaken for love, that virtually always dies. That's the romantic bliss that many people feel each in response to some other person. Given human variability, there is probably some small number of people who feel that bliss about some person, without cessation, for many decades and until these blissful people die. But it rarely persists for more than a very few years, if even that. People who mistake it for love involve themselves in ways that they should not. People who mistake it for love sometimes leave when they should not; the bliss evaporates and they think themselves no longer in love, or they do not feel the bliss in the first place and think that they never loved, because they do not recognize the love that they feel for the other person. As for me, I've never felt that bliss at all; I only know of it from reports; but I certainly have personal experience of loving someone.[1]

Real love is the distinctive, fundamental emotional response to finding a person whom one believes exemplifies one's values. And when one believes that the other person complements one's self, the love has a romantic aspect, a desire to build a shared life with that person. Those beliefs are usually unconscious. The typical person, when not in love, can make a list of what he or she would want in another person, only to find him- or herself later in love with someone who seems quite different from what was imagined. But, in all things, our actual values come-out in the course of felt desire, of choice made at cost, of action. In any case, that emotional response lasts for as long as one holds those values, believes that the other person manifests those values, and sees that person as one's complement.

It takes rather a lot for that response to die, because there is so much to be undone. Some highly personal values of the lover must change, or the person loved must come to appear to be very different, in a negative way, from what was believed. I'm inclined to say that love doesn't die unless it is killed. Sometimes it staggers along for rather a long while even when obviously mortally wounded. If no one kills love, then it lasts for the lifetime of the one who loves, and thus can abide beyond the lifetime of the one who was loved.

I think that many or most of us have seen love killed. I've more than once seen one person who felt but did not recognize love kill the love that the other person felt for him or for her, and then struggle to live with an unrequited love, perhaps never seen for what it were.

I certainly won't claim that it is better to have loved and then experienced the killing of that love than never to have loved at all. But there is a self-awareness that can be salvaged from the wreckage. One doesn't know whom one will love before one loves; but, after all, one emerges from a failed love with the experience of having loved, and thus of having one's actual values expressed. Perhaps the other person wasn't whom one thought, but it should be possible consciously to identify some of the attributes that one imputed to that other person which caused one to love him or her; a contrast with the discovered makes the imagined easier to see. Thus, one may have a more clear idea of what one may call one's personal destiny, though this is a destiny that may not be reälized and might even be absurd.

Love that doesn't die but that is unrequited or effectively unrequited is a different matter. One might still clarify one's values, even without a contrast between the one's earlier beliefs about a person and what one discovers about him or about her. But there may be no application of this knowledge; so long as one is in love, there is no next person to seek.

[1] Early in my relationship with my most recent girl-friend, she was deeply hurt to learn that I wasn't joyful. She didn't explain why she was hurt, and I did not understand during the course of that relationship why she had been hurt (and perhaps remained hurt). Now I infer that she mistakenly felt unloved.

Annvs Horribilis

Tuesday, 31 May 2016

A thousand miles is a measure of special symbolism in the poetry of hearts longing or wounded. A more accurate figure in my case might be 1061 miles. Or, if one reckoned driving distance, something like 1254 miles. But exactitude does me little good; were she hundreds of miles closer, she still might as well be a thousand miles away.

A Symmetry

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

The following advice has become rather common-place:

If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't, they never were.
I want to note something about the logick of this formula.

To return is to have gone; implicit in the words come back is that distance develops, whether actively or passively. And, indeed, if neither of two people makes an effort to stay connected, that is what one expects to happen.

If two people each apply the rule of setting the other free and of then awaiting the return of the other, it will not be love but chance-coïncidence or a conspiracy of others or perhaps some action of the collective unconscious that brings them back together — if anything does at all. The formula as popularly given strikes me as potentially very destructive to the purposes of love.

Now, that doesn't mean that each of two people in love should do entirely the opposite, and attempt to constrain the other person by threats or by impairments. Rather, one wants to empower the other person, yet hope that he or she stays, so that there is no coming back. And, typically, that hope should be expressed to the other person.

But, sometimes, one watches one's love go away, and prays for a return.

December Song

Friday, 24 October 2014

As he lay in his death-bed, he expressed his profound sadness that he'd just never found the woman with whom he were to share his life. Some day, the right one will come along. insisted someone reflexively.

A nurse entered the room. Before the light completely faded into darkness, he saw her look at him and wink.