心科普
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控制是爱的对立面
为什么恋爱意味着谦逊
本文要点：
•骄傲常常妨碍爱情。
•爱意味着脆弱，这可能与我们自我保护的需要相冲突。
•过度的骄傲和自我保护会造成严重的情绪问题。
保护自己免受心痛的唯一方法是去一个地方，正如詹姆斯·凯恩在《小偷》中所说，“什么都不再意味着什么。”几乎不可能同时恋爱和控制，因为爱情需要一定程度的谦逊，而骄傲是不允许的。
“我不是在自我保护吗？”治疗师总是会问这个问题。虽然答案通常是肯定的，但我们可能会反过来问：“但这值得吗？”
我们中的一些人在恋爱中挣扎，因为我们真的不知道该放弃自己的哪些部分，该固执地抓住哪些部分——但对于完美主义者来说，他们希望保持自己的独立性和至高无上的自尊（因为它非常脆弱），爱情既可耻又光荣，是解决骄傲和软弱问题的一种手段，也是创造一种吃蛋糕和拥有蛋糕的方式。
我们不想成为那些在全国各地搬家、放弃事业或倾吐心声的傻瓜。然而，我们希望被爱。从本质上讲，爱情既尴尬又老套。爱不会让我们感到软弱；相反，它揭示了一种与生俱来的脆弱性。它打破了伪装。
所有这些都会让我们的完美主义患者感到难以置信的不舒服，或者更确切地说，自卑。对他们来说，世界分为赢家和输家，强者和弱者。目睹愚蠢朋友错误的人相信自己已经超越了他们。对他来说，爱可以用理性来管理，如果没有，他会满足于他在自己身上找到的任何快乐。
承认我们多么需要别人，或者我们爱的人，往往会打开我们内心的批评家的大门，让我们羞愧地回到“现实”。这提醒我们，我们是多么愚蠢和幼稚，我们一直处于混乱之中。一方面，它支持了我们错误地认为的自尊，这实际上是虚假的骄傲；另一方面，它会产生一系列症状。
完美主义者可能一生都在保护自己免受连续、有毒环境的伤害，学会完全依靠自己。然而，当她忙于保护自己免受不确定性、失败和拒绝时，她无意中在自己的孤立房间里创造了同样的感觉。不管怎样，生活还是来了。
我们的完美主义者可能会在某个时候接受谦逊，而不是侵略、自信或自信，如果她能相信爱是为了她，那么这些都是爱的基石。控制的需要，以及她可以的信念，与她不能被爱的信念存在于一个动荡的联盟中。从某种意义上说，当她坚持自己时，她并没有强迫别人爱她；她强迫自己相信她配得上。
随着伪装的消失，如果真的消失了，我们的完美主义者可能会明白，她不一定要从别人的错误中吸取教训，或者至少可以在期待不同结果的同时重复其中的一些错误。而且，她不必继续以过度的精明和骄傲来克服自己的弱点，以此来完成自己的人生目标。如果她能承认爱只属于她，那么看起来愚蠢就没什么关系了。
和其他事情一样，我们必须做出选择。我们是否会暴露自己，结果被一些旁观者甚至我们所爱的对象嘲笑？或者，我们是否继续用我们惊人的自我引擎的烟雾来扼杀我们的孤独？在这条道路上，存在的岔口是爱和权力之间的岔口。一个过剩，另一个就会出现赤字。如果完美主义者专注于后者，他就会导致自己的不幸。他似乎控制了局面，但很痛苦，是一个在果断外表下的秘密仆人。在力量的外表下，他被创伤所困扰。
因此，标准虽然可以保护我们，但如果我们不小心，也很容易伤害我们，成为新的敌人来取代过去。
Control is the Opposite of Love
Why being in love means being humble
KEY POINTS
· Pride often gets in the way of love.
· Love means being vulnerable, which can conflict with our need to self-protect.
· Excessive pride and self-preservation create significant emotional problems.
The only way to protect yourself from heartache is to get to a place where, as noted by James Caan in Thief, “nothing means nothing anymore.” It's nearly impossible to be in love and in control at the same time, for love requires a degree of humility that pride won't allow.
"Aren't I just being self-protective?" Therapists get this question all the time. And while the answer is generally yes, we may ask in turn, "But is it worth it?"
Some of us struggle with being in love because we can't really know which parts of ourselves to part with and which to stubbornly clutch to—but for perfectionists, who wish to keep their independence and supreme self-esteem intact (as it's incredibly fragile), love can be at once shameful and glorious, a means of resolving the problem of pride and weakness, of creating a way to eat one's cake and have it, too.
We don't want to be like those suckers who move across the country, give up their careers, or pour their hearts out. Yet we wish to be loved. By its nature, love is as embarrassing as it is corny. Love doesn't make us feel weak; rather, it reveals an innate vulnerability. It shatters the pretense.
All of this can make our perfectionistic patients feel incredibly uncomfortable or, rather, inferior. The world, to them, is divided between the winners and losers, the strong and the weak. The individual who's witnessed the mistakes of his silly friends is convinced he's risen above them. To him, love can be managed with reason and, if not, he'll settle for whatever joy he may find in himself.
Admitting how much we need others, or the person we love, often opens the door to our inner critic, who shames us back "to reality." It reminds us of how stupid and childish we're being, of the messes we've been in. On the one hand, it sustains what we erroneously conceive of as being self-respect, which is actually false pride; on the other, creates a whole slew of symptoms.
The perfectionist likely spent her life protecting herself from the vulnerability of successive, toxic environments, learning to solely rely on herself. Yet, while preoccupied with protecting herself from uncertainty, failure, and rejection, she inadvertently created those same feelings in her, metaphorically speaking, isolated room. Life came for her anyway.
Our perfectionist may, at some point, come to accept humility, rather than aggression, self-confidence, or assertiveness as the bedrock of love if she can believe love is for her. The need to control, and the belief that she can, exist in a tumultuous union with the belief that she can't be loved. In some sense, she isn't forcing another to love her when she asserts herself; she's forcing herself to believe that she's worthy of it.
As the pretenses fall away, if they do, our perfectionist may learn that she doesn't have to learn from others' mistakes necessarily, or at least can repeat some of them while expecting a different outcome. And that she doesn't have to continue having her life's purpose wrapped up in overcoming her weaknesses with excessive shrewdness and pride. If she can acknowledge that love can be solely for her, appearing foolish will hardly matter.
As with everything else, we have to choose. Do we reveal ourselves as we are, with the consequence of being mocked by some onlookers or even the objects of our affection? Or, do we continue to suffocate our loneliness with the fumes of the engines of our staggering egos? The existential fork in the road here is one between love and power. An excess of one leaves a deficit in the other. And if the perfectionist is preoccupied with the latter, he contributes to his own misfortune. He's seemingly in control yet miserable, a closeted servant behind the veneer of decisiveness. He is, behind the facade of strength, possessed by his trauma.
So, standards, while there to protect us, can just as easily harm us if we aren't careful, replacing the past by becoming new enemies.
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翻译 | 李梦迪
编辑 | 杨悦
