Thoughts from reading Robert Jay Lifton’s book, The Protean Self: Human Resilience in an Age of Fragmentation. Post 2
Lifton talks about the protean self as having 3 manifestations. One is sequential as evidenced by the upheavals of the ‘60s and ‘70s. Another is simultaneous, the ability to hold multiple images and ideas at the same time in the self, and the third is social, where in any given environment you see those who hold to traditions of the past, and those who are open to change and experimentation. When I entered the cult in 1970, the hippie free-love movement was young, and I had no inkling that it would last and transform American society the way it has. I entered an extremely religious and cloistered environment where only the Christian traditions handed down for centuries were “right” and everything else was “wrong”. These schemas of life tend to stick with us, and the effect is to think that I am somehow wrong to no longer value stability and “respectability” (whatever that is). To question what could be considered normal was not a sudden revelation for me, but a slow process of learning to trust myself again, and to accept myself where I am different than others. Different used to be “bad”. I now know it is unique and to be celebrated.
For those who were born into a cult (or other manipulative situation) and for those who were in for a long time, upon leaving identity can be like a flitting shadow, elusive, undefinable. We can feel confused, searching, uncertain about how we fit into our new circumstances, into society at large. Lifton speaks of “odd combinations” referring to our ability to bring together “…disparate and seemingly incompatible elements of identity…” We struggle with this, looking around and thinking that what we see in others must be “normal” and being upset that we don’t feel like what we see. This is a common error. While it is normal to seek a degree of “…form, grounding, and cohesion…” it is a superpower to be able to form our own unique identity. As I was reading this, I was reminded of a poem I wrote, and I share it here.
Questions
Recovery – what is it?
The questions ring in my ears.
Who gets to define it?
When will I know I’ve reached it?
Is it an absolute,
like the cult’s teachings?
I sought to serve God.
I sought the ultimate reality.
Now I seek recovery.
Why? What is it?
Who gets to define it?
When will I know I’ve reached it?
The state of seeking.
An ongoing unfinished business.
When do I reach that shore?
How will I know?
They kept me always seeking,
Unsatisfied.
Are they still in me?
Keeping me off-balance?
Who defines recovery, reality?
By whose standards?
In whose realm?
In whose morality?
Perhaps recovery is knowing myself
Perhaps recovery is not defined
Perhaps recovery is a process
That only ends when I do.
Perhaps recovery is the journey
Perhaps recovery is the smiles
The peace, the choices,
Being in the driver’s seat.
Who defines recovery?
Who defines reality?
Who defines morality,
If not me?