Jan 26, 2012

I just want to be acknowledged, dammit

Per a commenter’s recommendation (and probably per a quest to justify my lack of a lady), I am reading Anthony Storr’s book Solitude: A Return to the Self.

I liked his point that maybe the capacity for attachment is no more important than the capacity for being alone:

Attachment is not the same as dependence. If we call an adult dependent, we imply that he is immature. But if he has no intimate attachments, we conclude that there is something wrong with him. Extreme detachment from ties with others is usually equated with mental illness. Chronic schizophrenics sometimes lead lives in which relationships with others play virtually no part at all. The capacity to form attachments on equal terms is considered evidence of emotional maturity. It is the absence of this capacity which is pathological. Whether there may be other criteria of emotional maturity, like the capacity to be alone, is seldom taken into account.

Viewing intimate attachments as the hub around which a person’s life revolves does, in my view, less than justice to the importance of work, to the emotional significance of what goes on in the mind of the individual when he is alone, and, more especially, to the central place occupied by the imagination in those who are capable of creative achievement. Intimate attachments are a hub around which a person’s life revolves, not necessarily the hub.

This has gotten me interested in trying an experiment where for a few days or a weekend I take my reclusiveness to another level, where I don’t communicate with anyone at all, ever—not through email, not through buying groceries, and maybe not even through reading books or blogs. Total isolation from other people’s words. Might be interesting, or maybe just depressing.

Most compelling to me was Storr’s point about the understated significance of less-than-intimate relationships.

The modern assumption that intimate relationships are essential to personal fulfillment tends to make us neglect the significance of relationships which are not so intimate. Schizophrenics, and other individuals who are more or less totally isolated, are rightly regarded as pathological; but many human beings make do with relationships which cannot be regarded as especially close, and not all such human beings are ill or even particularly unhappy.

Many workers, for example, are reluctant to abandon a familiar setting even if offered more rewarding opportunities. The fact that a man is part of a hierarchy, and that he has a particular job to carry out, gives his life significance. It also provides a frame of reference through which he perceives his relation with others. In the course of his daily life, we habitually encounter many people with whom we are not intimate, but who nevertheless contribute to our sense of self. Neighbors, postmen, bank clerks, shop assistants, and many others may all be familiar figures with whom we daily exchange friendly greetings, but are generally persons about whose lives we know very little. These persons offer mutual recognition, acknowledgement of each other’s existence, and thus some affirmation, however slight, that each reciprocally contributes something to life’s pattern.

It is generally accepted that most human beings want to be loved. The wish to be recognized and acknowledged is at least as important.