Yet another iteration of a mistake I’ve made before. Perhaps by sharing the shame with my imaginary audience, I’ll find a way to uninstall the pattern, permanently.
Some years back I had this terrific collaborator, let’s call her L. She directed a very sassy and precise dance company. We had worked together on several projects and become fast friends. We also had an equitable financial arrangement – she got decent documentation for her major performances and I got fairly compensated, eventually. All was going well until we amped up our ambition.
I had agreed to collaborate with her on a multi-performance, multi-camera shoot and edit for $1000, deferred. I had already pumped 3 days into production and the edit required about 40 hours more. She wanted to edit with me continuously until completion but the manic schedule threatened my other projects. I proposed we spread the edit over a month or two, working one or two days a week rather than trying and crank it out all at once. Alternatively, I offered to teach her how to do some of the rough cut herself. She didn’t agree and the upshot was that our friendship ended. We never worked together, shared a meal or even spoke more than a sentence or two, ever again.
Recently, history repeated. I offered to record a performance for a good friend, gratis. She was starting to launch her dance career, and I felt honored and excited to help her. During and just after her show she and I had talked about building a company, a performance collective. When I suggested we formally present the concept to the entire cast, she acted resentful and tried to cut me off from the other performers. I resigned from further collaboration and we haven’t had an amicable exchange since.
What do these two situations have in common? Me. Obviously I’m responsible. I’ve transcribed the recent situation to the best of my recollection in an attempt to figure out what I was trying to achieve. It’s accessible only to those directly involved via password. From the analysis, a theory has emerged.
I fancy myself a very devoted and loyal ally to my female friends. If I think they’re groovy then they get the best of my resources. The funky part is that I would also toss them the keys to my power. As long as they didn’t step over the invisible line, they got to run me a little. This sounds strange, but when I was a kid my mom was super manipulative, so I guess I associated manipulation with feeling loved.
It’s taken me a lifetime to find my clandestine patterns and yank their wires. 47 years to remove one single letter ‘c’ and change Covert to Overt. I’d rather ham-handedly advocate a transparent agenda than be the slick but unwitting agent of a murky machiavellian intrigue. Manipulation is subtle. Turning off the secret programs starts with seeing them. Here’s the latest, my integrity trap.
I encouraged my former friends/collaborators to use me a bit. I tolerated bad behavior – they got to take without giving, be lax with gratitude and talk shit about their husbands, lovers, family and friends. I was enabling, facilitating addiction and sucking them towards unconsciousness. Only people with incredible integrity can resist, and that is precisely the point. It’s a test.
The invisible line divided what I would and wouldn’t tolerate. It was invisible in the sense that my friends had no idea that there was a limit to my generosity and tolerance. Nasty, eh? If they crossed the line I’d balk, withdraw my bounty and refuse to be manipulated further. I’ve led women right up to the edge and urged them to cross it. It’s natural for a person to see how far they can push an advantage – so what was I expecting? I was looking for higher nature, for intuitive acuity, for integrity. If she fell into the trap – game over, friendship finished.
It’s freeing to understand how I’ve been setting these situations up. The dysfunction of the trap was not it’s outcome, but that it operated below my own awareness and that it set folks up for failure. I couldn’t fathom the origins or implications of my actions, and thus I felt hurt. I imagined my friends had rejected me, when it was really my own robust defenses kicking in. The trap also revealed plenty of dependable friends, true sisters who refused to cross the line, who shine with integrity. Now I don’t need the trap to evaluate integrity, just paying attention is adequate.
One final note – Jessica recently invited me to join her Facebook Group, the “Support Group for Adults/Children Coping with Parents with Mental Illness.” I don’t think my parents are mentally ill, but considering the amount of crap I’ve had to clear out of my own attic, I’m down with joining.