The Role of the Receiver
This week, we will explore in more depth one of the roles in
the drama of giving and receiving, the role of the receiver.
To begin with, let’s explore the theme of need, which
translates into something lacking, into a longing for something that is not
present. Using Maslow’s hierarchy,
the basic needs seem pretty straightforward. I am hungry, cold, tired, at risk of physical harm. If I cannot satisfy these needs on my
own, I reach out to someone who has food, shelter, and protection to
offer. As we go higher in the
hierarchy, the picture becomes more complicated. I long to be loved, not just by anyone, but by the one who
truly knows me, with whom the feelings are mutual. I want to feel welcomed and a part of something bigger than
myself, but not just by any group, by a group I can honor and value. To feel
accomplished, I long for validation by someone whose opinion I respect. And, at the ultimate level, I long to
achieve my fullest potential, and that is not something that can be given to me
by any other person.
Jungians add some depth to this analysis of need. According to Jung, we have all
experienced a original sense of profound and pervasive unity. We have all known what it felt like to
be completely at peace and welcome, without need. Jung called this “immersion in the Self,” and it is
difficult to say when it occurred. Perhaps it is a dim memory of life in the
womb, where nothing had to be requested, and all was given without
limitation. But that ends very
abruptly, perhaps with that first swat on the butt, the harsh light of the
delivery room, the first feeling of open air on the skin. At any case, profound unity is very
quickly shattered as we become beings that are limited in time and space.
According to Jungian theory, we transfer that longing for
the full satisfaction of need onto our flesh and blood mothers. To an infant, one’s mother does seem
like an all-powerful being who can satisfy every need, if only he or she is
willing to do so. But no matter
how well a flesh and blood person tries to meet the needs of an infant, she or
he will fall short. In that dimly remembered paradise, I didn’t have to scream
out to let you know I was hungry; the magical umbilicus took care of that. What went wrong? This is traumatic, even when handled
well; the world may not, in fact, take care of my needs. Where does that leave me? The traumas harden into complexes, and
the patterns of ourselves as receivers and givers are set, to be lived out for
much if not all of the rest of our lives.
Going back to our six-way diagram, any time a giver is
playing out a drama with a receiver, the giver is experiencing the receiver’s
shadow around unfilled need.
Somewhere down deep is a disappointed infant, a neglected toddler, and a
unsatisfied child that learned, mostly from his or her parents, what it meant
to need something and how to go about meeting that need. And those original patterns will almost
inevitably re-emerge and have to be dealt with.
As with the role of the giver, there are uncountable
variations on this theme. Today I
will share just a few. I am
presenting these as distinct patterns just for the purpose of discussion and
analysis. In fact, most of us do
all of these, at nearly the same time.
Some of us rely on one or two more than the others. None of us do only one. But, in every case,
1)
The transactional model
Developmental theorists have noted how quickly babies learn
how to enter into transactions with their mothers. It is largely unconscious, but it is still
transactional. An infant learns
that, by cooing a certain way, he can get picked up and cuddled. There is a time to coo and a time to
scream, and the infant picks up on these patterns. That lays the foundation for a transactional attitude toward
getting needs met.
Basically, a transactional model says: I have something you want, you have
something I want, let’s do an exchange.
There is an assumption here that each party feels they have something of
value to offer to the other party.
This is the foundation for a market-based economy.
The problem arises when those higher level needs on Maslow’s
hierarchy present themselves. Is
love really a transaction? If you
have to buy it, literally or figuratively, is it really love? What looks like mutual caring from one
angle can look like mutual usury from another angle. This can lead to a very jaundiced view of human life. And it can lead to a very destructive
kind of perfectionism. You can
fundamentally doubt the worth of what you are offering and work endlessly to
make it absolutely perfect, in the magical belief that if what you offer is
perfect, you will experience absolute bliss. If I perfectly match what you demand, you will love me – or
so says the lie we tell ourselves.
Unfortunately, when our needs are not satisfied, we perfectionists lay
the blame on our remaining imperfection, and work just a bit harder.
And if you are trying to transact yourself into
individuation, you will soon discover that it is impossible. You can’t buy it
from a guru, can’t do something to convince the unconscious to enlighten you.
2)
The manipulative model
In the manipulative model, the receiver makes use of the
shadow of the giver to get what is needed or wanted. Referring back to last week’s talk, suppose the giver longs
for love and equates gratitude with being loved. A manipulative receiver knows how to express gratitude in
just the right loving way to keep the giving going. Or, suppose a giver wants to magically recreate her
childhood, making it all go right this time; a manipulative receiver will be a
willing participant in this dramatic re-enactment, so long as it ends up with
the receiver also getting his needs met.
Or, suppose the giver wants some “vicarious living” through the life of
the receiver; the manipulative receiver can be very accommodating on this
request. In short, the receiver
either consciously or unconsciously cues in on the shadow of the giver and uses
it to satisfy unmet needs.
The truly
manipulative receiver can play this to the hilt. Many times, a giver sees potential in the receiver. The manipulative receiver knows that,
to keep this going, he must fail once in a while and get bailed out to keep the
giver feeling heroic. He needs to
show progress toward the giver’s dream for him, but never quite get there.
Even at its best, manipulation is a form of lying. It has much of the same down side as
the transactional model. If I need
to lie and connive to get what I need, what does that make me? And how do I lie and connive my way
into true love, much less individuation?
It can’t be done.
There is a subtype of the manipulative model that bears
mentioning. I call it “aggressive
victimhood.” The script goes
something like this: My life is miserable, and no one has ever
done anything to help, they have only hurt me. Try to help, and I will let you
know if it is working, but I have my doubts. Particularly if the giver is of the “rescuing” variety, sure
that a heroic rescue of a desperate receiver will win life-long gratitude if
not love, this is a highly effective manipulation.
The manipulative model is an excellent illustration of how
the power shadow operates. In the
regular giving and receiving relationship, the giver has the power and the
receiver is less powerful. In the
manipulative model, the power dynamic is reversed – the receiver gets the upper
hand and plays it masterfully.
Sometimes, the receiver takes on the manipulative model in reaction to
the controlling attitude of the giver; it is, in that sense, a way to balance
out the power dynamics.
3)
The substitute model
The script for the drama of the substitute model goes like
this: What I really need and long
for is ______________, but if I can’t have that, please give me more
_________________. This is a
bargain almost certain to fail, and it is actually the basis of much that we
would call addiction and compulsion.
What I want is love, but if I can’t have that, give me sex. What I want is self esteem, but if I
can’t have that, at least take care of my financial security. What I want is an escape from the
oppression of my complexes, but if I can’t have that, at least get high with
me. There are endless variations,
all of which pull up shadow, frustration, disappointment, excess, and eventual
rejection.
4)
The withdrawn model
A
very interesting variation on the receiver models is what I call the withdrawn
model. Essentially, a person
withdraws into himself or herself, never directly expressing any needs,
desires, or vulnerabilities. You
might think this might leave them unattractive to people willing to give, but
that is not always the case.
In
one sense, the withdrawn model has much in common with the manipulative
model. For some givers, a
withdrawn receiver is a challenge, provoking ever-higher levels of giving. The morose teenager is a fine example
here. The morose teenager is
unimpressed with anything offered or given to him or her. His dark mood is unrelenting. The giving parent searches for any sign
of having “guessed right” about what would please the morose teenager. The slightest sign of gratitude is
celebrated as a major victory for the giver.
In
a different sense, people fall into the withdrawn model when they sincerely
believe that, if they express any need, they will find out how little they are
loved, how little they matter to the people around them. Rather than take the risk of asking for
anything, they would rather pretend that they have no dreams, no needs, and no
desires.
A
third variation of the withdrawn model is particularly popular among those who
are spiritually inclined. These
people label needs or desires as spiritual hindrances, and they claim to have
evolved past such mundane things as needs and wants. Indeed, it is possible to become so transcendent that needs
become very minimal. But that is
not the same thing as being driven by disappointment and resentment – “if no
one will give to me, I will give up my needs. That will show them!”
5)
The individuation model
In the individuation model of receiving, both the giver and
the receiver acknowledge that they are engaged in a drama. They acknowledge that each of them has
a shadow and it is involved in how the giving and receiving will happen – they
give due regard to the six-way relationship. They know that this drama, like all dramas, has the
potential to show each of them who they really are. This is perhaps the most important outcome of all. For the individuation model to actually
work, a few things must be true.
Both parties must be willing to be vulnerable, to admit that they have
shadowy motives of which they themselves are only partially aware. Both parties must be capable of self
reflection and of conscious analysis of what is going on. The power shadow must be made conscious
– in fact, the receiver might be the more powerful party, if revelation of
shadow and light of consciousness are the criteria.
Is such a thing possible? I can’t say I have ever experienced it fully, but I have had
tantalizing tastes of it, so I hold out hope and faith. At least it can be aspirational, as compared
to the other models.
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