Self-Reflection in a Funhouse Mirror

There was a fascinating experiment many years ago about attractiveness and pair-bonding. In this study, a number from 1-10 was randomly selected and pasted to each subject’s forehead; the subjects were unaware of their own number. The random number represented the person’s attractiveness as a mate. A couple dozen subjects were then gathered in a room and given the directions to pair with the most attractive (according the number on the forehead) mate they could land.

Even though the subjects never knew their own number, they ended up “mating” with a subject with a similar number. They were calculating their own attractiveness by which numbers rejected them and which were interested.

But that’s not the part that really interested me. When I saw the videos of this study, I observed another, more nuanced behavior. There were some subjects who would be considered fours, threes, or even twos on a real-world attractiveness score who happened to land a high number for the study. These subjects were often more timid in the beginning, their own dating and social experiences bleeding into the laboratory. Even through the “9” on the forehead was attracting many potential suitors, it took time for the internal “3” to fade and for the self-view to shift to match the given reality.

This same discordant event happens out of the lab as well. People often form their own idea of their relative attractiveness to prospective mates when they are in their teens and early twenties and entering the dating scene. It’s more complex than simply looks; attractiveness also encompasses wealth (not just money, but what value you bring to the table), status, character and potential. None of which are static.

So something interesting often happens. You may have a man in his twenties who is still finding his way – no wealth accumulated, car and clothes broadcasting a lesser social status and potential buried under uncertainty. His attractiveness “score” that he internalizes at that point in his life may be a 4, pulling potential mates from the same pool. Ten years later, that same man has a degree, a career and is confident and successful in his professional life. Yet, in dating, he still sees himself as a 4, attracting partners that are no longer suitable. It takes time for the number printed on the brain to match the one projected.

Or, you may have a woman who was overweight and timid through her teens, forming her number from the reactions in the calloused halls of high school. Years later, when pounds are lost and confidence is gained, the perceived attractiveness is often still at the low point set in youth.

Most of us are no longer the person we once were: We change. We adapt. We grow.

Yet we don’t always believe.

The mirror which we use to see ourselves is no normal piece of glass; it is distorted by the messages we received about our value in our childhoods and young adulthoods. We etch that perceived worth inside our minds and often fail to update it when it is no longer relevant.

Step out of the funhouse and see yourself as you truly are without the distortion of the past.

Believe in what you project.

Believe in your value, your worth to others.

Believe in yourself.

 

 

Provider

We received news yesterday that our bid on the house was not accepted. I was disappointed, but not surprised. I suppose in a way, I was even relieved since I have some anxiety about the financial implications and obligations associated with buying a house.

(On a side note, I realized this past weekend, while sharing my story, that the financial aspect is the only area from which I have not healed. I’m not sure if I can move past that part while I’m still paying for his lies. It’s better than it was, but money issues can still be a major trigger. Grrr.)

Almost immediately upon hearing the news, I let go of the house. We had already discussed that if our bid was not accepted, we would go back to casually keeping an eye on homes and continue to save. After all, we still have 5 months until the planned move date.

Brock didn’t take it quite so well. He was restless. Discontent. He started searching the data base of houses for sale in the area. He sent listings to me and called me in to look over his shoulder. Verbally, he agreed that it made sense to pause and that we had plenty of time, but his actions spoke to a deeper need.

We even drove to look at a house (it was really amazing yet had a 100+ foot drop off in the back going down to a river and needed too much work for its price). I sensed that he needed to feel like there was forward momentum. I get it. I am usually guilty of the same anxiety-driven restless energy.

I awoke this morning to a note by the coffeepot:

“I promise I will get you a house you can be proud of.”

Wow. This explained his energy the day before. He sees himself as the provider. He knows that our current home is a bit of a dump (what’s funny though is that I’ve adapted and even learned to appreciate not having a “nice” home). He is feeling responsible for making sure that I am in a place where I can be happy.

He is taking house hunting literally. I’m surprised he hasn’t armed himself with a spear yet:)

My response to him?

“I have a husband I am proud of. That’s what matters.”

It’s been interesting for me to learn how important the “provider” role is to him. I didn’t get it at first, especially because he was insistent that women that he dated had their own career/income (he fully supported an ex for awhile and hated that). On my side, I’ve never wanted a man to “take care of me.” I was very uncomfortable with one man that I dated who had this approach. I saw the responsibility as equal.

It is true that Brock carries the majority of the financial burden. I’m a teacher. He’s not. What I now understand, however, is that he carries all of the financial burden in his mind. He feels responsible for the material well-being of our family.

I am grateful that Brock can articulate this need. My ex couldn’t and I think it was the initial domino in his fall. From what I can gather, it seems as though my ex faced professional decline. He lost a job and couldn’t find one to replace the responsibility and income level that he had before. He opened his own business, yet I do not think it was successful. My gut tells me that the spending and stealing started to try to cover for the lack of income he was receiving from his company. I think he was ashamed that he could not be a provider. He felt diminished and depleted. Embarrassed, even. He hid these feelings from me just as he hid the financial concerns. As a child, he was taught to keep shame buried deep and to not ask for help. He learned that lesson well.

I have come to understand that the way Brock feels about his role has a greater impact than how I see it or how it actually is. His self-image is based on being able to protect and provide. My role is to help him feel supported and appreciated in those realms, regardless of the external circumstances.

(I know that I also have areas upon which I base my self-image, but for the life of me, I can’t pinpoint them. Hmmm…got me some thinking to do!)

So for now, the boxes will remain broken down on their stack in the basement and the books will remain on their shelves. We will continue to live and laugh and love in our run-down rental. And, when it is time and the right home appears, we will make the move.

Until then, we live. And look at copious quantities of real estate porn.