Finding Nemo is one of my three-year-old daughter's all time favorite movies, which means Mark and I have watched it about 4976 times now and have weaved it into the fabric of our lives. In one scene, Nemo's father, Marlin, is dragged to a 12 Step meeting held by some sharks, who are trying to give up eating fish. (And at this point, I always try not to think about the weird implications of sharks doing 12 Step to give up something that is necessary for their survival.) They push Marlin to speak and ask him to tell them about his problem. When he responds that he doesn't have a problem, the sharks look at each other and say, in unison, "DENIAL!"
Whenever Mark and I are in a situation where someone refuses to admit there's a problem, we do a perfect unison shark imitation, "DENIAL!" And it's always funny as hell.
Of course, funny as that is, and frequently as the term "denial" is used in relation to addiction, it often seems inaccurate. Ok, I'll come right out and admit it: deep down, I hate the term denial. Denial implies that there is something to deny; in order to deny something, you must know -- in some part of you, at some level, conscious or unconscious -- what the truth is. When I think of denial, I think of that feeling I've had at times where in retrospect I kick myself and say, "I guess I knew deep down what was going on, but some part of me didn't want to admit it." But that sensation, and the word "denial" that seems to describe that particular sensation so accurately, doesn't come anywhere close to describing the full-body shock of suddenly seeing something whose existence I couldn't have conceived of, at any level, let alone conceived of and then denied. I want a different word for that experience: the experience of finding out the universe just doesn't work the way you thought it did at all.
I'm sure some of you are familiar with this puzzle. (If you've ever worked in corporate America, you've certainly encountered this.) There are nine dots arranged in a square, and your goal is to connect the dots using just four straight, continuous lines without lifting your pen from the paper. The first time you do it, it is hard. You always seem to leave one dot out: you can connect the dots around the edges of the square, but that little one in the middle ends up sitting there looking lonely; you can run a diagonal line through the center and then go down three sides of the square, but that still always leaves one dot on the periphery. You try and try and finally throw down your pen and say, "It can't be done! I can't connect all of those damn dots!"
But there is a solution to the puzzle, of course. The solution is to release your mind from the artificial boundaries created by the outlines of that square and (oh, how I hate this saying) "think outside the box." Once we see the solution, we're shocked, but at the same time, we feel a bit stupid. "Oh," we think, "there was an answer. It was right there, but I just couldn't see it. That was easy. Why didn't I think of that?" But that's the thing about our minds: they put in reassuring rules and structure, and they blind us to what we don't know.
I struggled for years to connect the dots in my own life, and I was always left with that straggling little dot of doubt. I'd go over that puzzle again and again. Why did my husband's friendly, open nature make me uncomfortable? Why did it bother me that he made friends so quickly with so many different types of people? Why was I so "jealous?" Why did I worry about him cheating when I knew that he loved me and was satisfied with our sex life? The truth was, he was a sex addict. I wasn't an unusually jealous person, he wasn't really making friends, and people do cheat, even when they're in love and satisfied sexually by their partner. All of my little unconscious assumptions, all of my own insecurities bound me in and trapped me in that square where I couldn't see the solution, couldn't connect the dots.
Why does it take some addicts so long to admit a problem and enter recovery? Why does it take some of their loved ones so long to figure out what is going on and how to deal with it? Are they actually seeing the solution to the puzzle and denying it exists anyway? Maybe sometimes. But other times, they don't see the solution at all; they're still struggling, as I was, to connect the dots.
When I was an alcohol and drug counselor we used this puzzle to get clients to see they could think in a different way about recovery or using or whatever. You can see it didnt have much of an effect on this counselor. Ha!
I wish I knew why it took me so long to connect some fucking dots, MPJ. I really wish I knew....
Great post.
Love,
Scout
Great post. I can really relate in so many ways. Thank you.
This is a beautiful blog and you write so well. Forgive the input, here. I'm not sure where the idea that denial is conscious comes from, but in classic psych literature, it's really considered quite an unconscious process. Really primitive, too, one of our earliest defenses.
Surely we can lie to ourselves, knowing in the "back of our minds" the truth, but real denial holds fast precisely because it's unconscious.
Feed that to the fishes, who are definitely in denial.
Therapydoc is right, of course, and I learned that in my undergrad psych course but it didn't get through to very many of my colleagues. Most non-psychiatrist docs do think "denial" is the same as "lying". It's one of those terms of art that sounds like a real English word (well, it is real English word) and so I think people hear the latter and don't get the former.
When I taught about addiction, I tried to help the learners understand that addicts were often telling us what they believed - honestly - to be the truth, no matter how obviously not true it was to us. I remember watching Clinton during his campaign - years before the Lewinsky mess - and thinking "that's an addict talking". Part of what makes him an effective politician is that he so much believes what he says, even when it makes no sense (and I thought his politics and policies made sense, just not his statements about his personal life).
Insightful and honest. Love this about you, that you weave them together so fluidly.
My own mind stretched just a bit, saw some things in a new way. Thank-you for this.
I suppose I've always held denial as different then lying to myself, trying not to know, repressing, ignoring, turning away and covering my eyes. Denial is knowing something but not even knowing I know it. LIke the parts of me that know split off or go underground.
Anyways, you've given me some great food for thoughts and I'll be chewing on this one for awhile.
Once again your words could have been taken from my own diaries long since thrown away. I sometimes wonder if I would have stayed to connect the dots if I knew that he had an illness. I wonder this because my husband now helps me connect the dots with my illness and what a difference that has made in the quality of my life.
A rich teaching. All things are habits, even perceptions, even senses, even sight. Changing the way you see something is the hardest thing a human being can do. It is the essential teaching of Buddhism: to free yourself from illusion.
Thank you for your wonderful post.
When I was in treatment, it was major reconstruction. To take all the beliefs I had, show me their falsehoods, dismantle them, and start building a new foundation, was (for me) a hugh undertaking. It would be hard just to call that coming to grips with my denial. I was ignorant that I was a slave to my beliefs.
Today, 20 months later, I still have to stop, deconstruct, and rebuild. Thankfully, the buildings are smaller. The 12 steps show me the way.
It's the people in the rooms that keep me honest, open and willing. I'm just finding that same community in amongst all those blogs.
Thank you.
Well done. You know, this tortures me often. Especially after I watch Oprah, GOD LOVE HER! But, Jazus christ- if I have to hear her say one more time, "but, in hindsight, you knew... right? You were just in denial" Im gonna smack her.
While reading over the material for my fourth step in preparing for my fifth (god, I'm such a program dork), there was a section about denial that asked what we thought we might be in denial about. I had written, "My husband's using." He was totally using. Was I really in denial, if I knew that it was what I was in denial about? What the hell?
What a great post. I've actually never seen that puzzle before (maybe I'll be the one to introduce it to corporate Britain) but it was an excellent analogy. I too hate 'think outside the box' but you just gave it a little spark for me!