On polyamory and the Oedipal phase
Feb. 14th, 2008 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gaudiorI totally need to write this article in a few years when I've had more experience and clients.
So, Freud's theory of the Oedipus complex often gets a bad rap, usually because people try to apply it literally (you're in love with your mother and want to kill your father. Yes, you.) rather than extracting the fairly universal baby out of the culturally-and-possibly-Freud-specific bathwater. However, the more universal underlying idea is, I think, a very good one.
Namely: infants experience their parents as being there only for them, to serve their needs. To an infant, the mother's nature is to be the source of milk, warmth, and attention. The infant has no understanding of the mother having her own mind, her own desires, or any relationship except with the infant. The same is true of the father, the grandparents, and any other care-takers.
However, at some point, the infant is brought face-to-face with the fact that the parents do have other relationships. The infant/toddler sees that sometimes, the parents pay attention to each other rather than to him/her. This is a very difficult and sometimes frightening realization, as it begins to bring home to the child the fact that the world does not revolve around him/her. S/he is not the center of the universe, and caring for him/her is not necessarily the top priority of everyone in it.
The good thing about this realization is that it prepares the toddler to gain a "theory of mind"-- the ability to understand that other people have their own consciousnesses, their own perceptions, and their own worldviews. Before the age of three or four, the average toddler does not understand that other people do not know everything s/he does. (A two-year old child who has been tricked into thinking a "candy bar" is fake will believe that, now that s/he knows that the candy isn't real, anyone else shown the same candy will also know it's fake-- s/he will not realize that other people could also be tricked as s/he was.) Upon developing a theory of mind, children become able to begin to see others as their own people, separate from themselves. They learn that others have other beliefs and ways of thinking, and they become able to learn empathy and to predict other people's motivations. (Some of them even grow up to be psychologists and spend all their time thinking about other's thoughts.)
So, overall, the Oedipal crisis-- realizing that our significant others have relationships with people other than us-- is a necessary and useful developmental step. But that doesn't mean it's not painful. Being the center of the universe is a position of ultimate power and security, and sometimes we really miss it. Having others care about us, as the most important person ever, is intoxicating, exhilirating, and completely necessary at that helpless stage of life.
So when, many years later, we find romantic love, there's something splendidly familiar about the exhilirating comfort of the fall. Romantic love feels wonderful for a lot of reasons, and I'm willing to believe that a number of them are related to the delighted nostalgia of again feeling utterly desired and adored; to the feeling that you can express your naked, Iddish (sexual) self without shame; to the total vulnerability and total trust that accompanies it. We're not able to completely return to an infant's unselfconsciousness, but romantic love takes us much closer than almost anything else we do as adults.
However, as I wrote a few months ago, true love doesn't stay on the level of infant infatuation, where the lover exists only to love us. Instead, it moves on to an understanding of the lover as his/her own person, with his/her own wishes and desires, very different from ours. This can be a difficult, but ultimately rewarding process-- it is, in its own way, a recreation and working through of the Oedipal crisis. Hopefully, though, this working through is much more satisfying than the first time through the crisis. The conclusion of working through as a child is to discover that others exist, at the same time as we are becoming stronger, less helpless, more capable of caring for ourselves. We learn that we're not the center of others' world at the same time as we learn that we don't need to be. When we work through it with our lovers, we're already strong and capable. But this time, we're able to feel deeply and truly loved by another real person. We realize that we can be loved, intensely and overwhelmingly, without needing to be the only important person in the universe.
Now... about polyamory.
I've seen polyamorous relationships go very well indeed, leading to deeply rewarding and satisfying shared lives. However, I've also seen them lead to a tremendous amount of drama. It's why I warn people to enter such relationships knowing that a great deal of work will be required to make them last without exploding.
I think that a major reason for this is that starting a polyamorous relationship is, inherently, a replication of the Oedipal crisis. This kind of relationship takes us from the world of two to the world of three, just like the realization that our parents love each other as well as they love us. Instead of the knowledge of the other parent entering into our relationship with a parent, we have another love entering into our relationship with our beloved. It forces us to realize that no matter how much our beloved adores us, s/he also has desires besides loving us.
And, like the first Oedipal crisis, this is terrifying. Even more so because having lost the infant-world-of-two for long, we rejoice to regain it in the lover, and the though tof losing it again is terrifying. The infantile Oedipal crisis tears us from the security of our own all-importance, and makes us question whether we will ever feel that secure, that loved, again.
Polyamory's second Oedipal crisis, as well, steals from us the illusion that we can have again the all-importance. However, polyamory provides one great advantage. Through it, we can see that the all-importance and the love are not necessarily inextricably linked. We see that we can be loved, truly and deeply, for everything we are, by someone who has his/her own mind and priorities. Even in the world of three, the world where others are real, the world of more-than-id-- even in such a world, we can still be loved.
Now, polyamory is hardly the only way to do this. As I mentioned before, this development is usually a natural consequence of loving well and truly for a long time; eventually, we start to see our beloved as the person s/he is, in addition to simply being our lover. I suspect that it also happens for people who are able to parent well, when both parents are able to accept that their co-parent loves the child for him/herself, not just as an extension of the parents. Polyamory is not necessarily the only or best way to work through again one's Oedipal crisis.
However, an advantage of polyamory is that it forces one to confront the issue. Two lovers might simply fall out of love, rather than working through it together. Two parents might drift apart, or might refuse to acknowledge the child's importance or separateness. However, while there are exceptions, polyamory seems to require people to face the Oedipal crisis head-on.
The disadvantage of this is that if everyone doesn't manage to work through, polyamory is explosive and painful, in a very primitive, visceral way. Even if people do manage it, the process of working through raises all of those feelings, and it's absolutely hellish. The last time we felt this way, we were at an age when tantrums and clinginess were normal and expected. Adults aren't supposed to feel this way; adults aren't supposed to act on those feelings. It sucks.
But the advantage of this is that a constellation who have truly worked through their issues will be very secure, both in their relationships and in themselves. They will know that they exist and matter, and that their lovers exist and matter. It's never a completed process-- the lovers will still have moments of selfishness, they'll still have infants inside crying for all the attention, but they'll also know that they can get their needs met without denying the needs of others. It's quite fun.
I don't think poly is for everyone. Some people's desires just don't run that way. Other people find it too threatening to be worthwhile-- maybe because their first Oedipal crisis was neither so hard that it cries out to be re-done, nor so easy that they feel sanguine about facing it again. But I think that it's really interesting howw it does work when it does. And I want to think about that some more.
To be continued, in a few years...
--R
So, Freud's theory of the Oedipus complex often gets a bad rap, usually because people try to apply it literally (you're in love with your mother and want to kill your father. Yes, you.) rather than extracting the fairly universal baby out of the culturally-and-possibly-Freud-specific bathwater. However, the more universal underlying idea is, I think, a very good one.
Namely: infants experience their parents as being there only for them, to serve their needs. To an infant, the mother's nature is to be the source of milk, warmth, and attention. The infant has no understanding of the mother having her own mind, her own desires, or any relationship except with the infant. The same is true of the father, the grandparents, and any other care-takers.
However, at some point, the infant is brought face-to-face with the fact that the parents do have other relationships. The infant/toddler sees that sometimes, the parents pay attention to each other rather than to him/her. This is a very difficult and sometimes frightening realization, as it begins to bring home to the child the fact that the world does not revolve around him/her. S/he is not the center of the universe, and caring for him/her is not necessarily the top priority of everyone in it.
The good thing about this realization is that it prepares the toddler to gain a "theory of mind"-- the ability to understand that other people have their own consciousnesses, their own perceptions, and their own worldviews. Before the age of three or four, the average toddler does not understand that other people do not know everything s/he does. (A two-year old child who has been tricked into thinking a "candy bar" is fake will believe that, now that s/he knows that the candy isn't real, anyone else shown the same candy will also know it's fake-- s/he will not realize that other people could also be tricked as s/he was.) Upon developing a theory of mind, children become able to begin to see others as their own people, separate from themselves. They learn that others have other beliefs and ways of thinking, and they become able to learn empathy and to predict other people's motivations. (Some of them even grow up to be psychologists and spend all their time thinking about other's thoughts.)
So, overall, the Oedipal crisis-- realizing that our significant others have relationships with people other than us-- is a necessary and useful developmental step. But that doesn't mean it's not painful. Being the center of the universe is a position of ultimate power and security, and sometimes we really miss it. Having others care about us, as the most important person ever, is intoxicating, exhilirating, and completely necessary at that helpless stage of life.
So when, many years later, we find romantic love, there's something splendidly familiar about the exhilirating comfort of the fall. Romantic love feels wonderful for a lot of reasons, and I'm willing to believe that a number of them are related to the delighted nostalgia of again feeling utterly desired and adored; to the feeling that you can express your naked, Iddish (sexual) self without shame; to the total vulnerability and total trust that accompanies it. We're not able to completely return to an infant's unselfconsciousness, but romantic love takes us much closer than almost anything else we do as adults.
However, as I wrote a few months ago, true love doesn't stay on the level of infant infatuation, where the lover exists only to love us. Instead, it moves on to an understanding of the lover as his/her own person, with his/her own wishes and desires, very different from ours. This can be a difficult, but ultimately rewarding process-- it is, in its own way, a recreation and working through of the Oedipal crisis. Hopefully, though, this working through is much more satisfying than the first time through the crisis. The conclusion of working through as a child is to discover that others exist, at the same time as we are becoming stronger, less helpless, more capable of caring for ourselves. We learn that we're not the center of others' world at the same time as we learn that we don't need to be. When we work through it with our lovers, we're already strong and capable. But this time, we're able to feel deeply and truly loved by another real person. We realize that we can be loved, intensely and overwhelmingly, without needing to be the only important person in the universe.
Now... about polyamory.
I've seen polyamorous relationships go very well indeed, leading to deeply rewarding and satisfying shared lives. However, I've also seen them lead to a tremendous amount of drama. It's why I warn people to enter such relationships knowing that a great deal of work will be required to make them last without exploding.
I think that a major reason for this is that starting a polyamorous relationship is, inherently, a replication of the Oedipal crisis. This kind of relationship takes us from the world of two to the world of three, just like the realization that our parents love each other as well as they love us. Instead of the knowledge of the other parent entering into our relationship with a parent, we have another love entering into our relationship with our beloved. It forces us to realize that no matter how much our beloved adores us, s/he also has desires besides loving us.
And, like the first Oedipal crisis, this is terrifying. Even more so because having lost the infant-world-of-two for long, we rejoice to regain it in the lover, and the though tof losing it again is terrifying. The infantile Oedipal crisis tears us from the security of our own all-importance, and makes us question whether we will ever feel that secure, that loved, again.
Polyamory's second Oedipal crisis, as well, steals from us the illusion that we can have again the all-importance. However, polyamory provides one great advantage. Through it, we can see that the all-importance and the love are not necessarily inextricably linked. We see that we can be loved, truly and deeply, for everything we are, by someone who has his/her own mind and priorities. Even in the world of three, the world where others are real, the world of more-than-id-- even in such a world, we can still be loved.
Now, polyamory is hardly the only way to do this. As I mentioned before, this development is usually a natural consequence of loving well and truly for a long time; eventually, we start to see our beloved as the person s/he is, in addition to simply being our lover. I suspect that it also happens for people who are able to parent well, when both parents are able to accept that their co-parent loves the child for him/herself, not just as an extension of the parents. Polyamory is not necessarily the only or best way to work through again one's Oedipal crisis.
However, an advantage of polyamory is that it forces one to confront the issue. Two lovers might simply fall out of love, rather than working through it together. Two parents might drift apart, or might refuse to acknowledge the child's importance or separateness. However, while there are exceptions, polyamory seems to require people to face the Oedipal crisis head-on.
The disadvantage of this is that if everyone doesn't manage to work through, polyamory is explosive and painful, in a very primitive, visceral way. Even if people do manage it, the process of working through raises all of those feelings, and it's absolutely hellish. The last time we felt this way, we were at an age when tantrums and clinginess were normal and expected. Adults aren't supposed to feel this way; adults aren't supposed to act on those feelings. It sucks.
But the advantage of this is that a constellation who have truly worked through their issues will be very secure, both in their relationships and in themselves. They will know that they exist and matter, and that their lovers exist and matter. It's never a completed process-- the lovers will still have moments of selfishness, they'll still have infants inside crying for all the attention, but they'll also know that they can get their needs met without denying the needs of others. It's quite fun.
I don't think poly is for everyone. Some people's desires just don't run that way. Other people find it too threatening to be worthwhile-- maybe because their first Oedipal crisis was neither so hard that it cries out to be re-done, nor so easy that they feel sanguine about facing it again. But I think that it's really interesting howw it does work when it does. And I want to think about that some more.
To be continued, in a few years...
--R
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-14 09:42 pm (UTC)Such is my brain.
But, I do have to say that I really enjoy reading these somewhat complex posts of yours cause its interesting and well thought through. That, and I always liked psychology. :3
And though I never have been able to imagine a relationship one on one with either a male or a female, I have imagined and daydreamed what it would be like to live in a threesome. I'm not much for romantical love but I do like companionship and making people happy. Being the go between for people when they need a break from the other. Without seeing my current position that might seem odd (or normal?) but considering I have lived as the go between for my parents ever since I was a child (even though not sexually a go between) I guess it would be normal for me to want that. Because its all I've known. Relationships haven't ever been one on one to my eyes. It's been one on one to another when the one and one doesn't work.
I don't think I made much sense. But you've helped me with an issue I've been trying to figure out for a while now. Why I'm not attracted to either sex by themselves. Because psychologically I am and always will be a third wheel...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-15 10:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-15 10:50 am (UTC)Interesting thoughts
Date: 2008-02-16 06:11 am (UTC)I do also thank you for providing another strong argument for attention being the primary commodity in relationships, if not just in human existence. Need to bounce that off Mazlow's Hierarchy some ...
Thanks for some provocative thoughts!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-26 04:50 am (UTC)