The Ideal Personality

For a few days, a violent storm spanned across the sky above a small town. With lightning as bright as the Milky Way, wind as swift as a sailfish, and rain as loud as a rhinoceros is large, the storm was indeed unmerciful. To avoid the dangerous storm, the townsfolk stayed inside their homes, depleting their reserves of food and other necessities. Not a single human, or animal for that matter, could be seen outside; no man, no woman, no boy, no girl, no cat, no dog. As the storm continued to wreak havoc in the town, a flood began to form. If one were to have walked outside, said individual would be in four feet of water. For those ferocious few days, one may as well have traveled by boat.

Inside one of the homes in the town was a grinch, a witch, and an innocent baby. This was a family that was riddled with many issues. Two of the most pervasive faults of the family were abuse and neglect. The grinch and the witch were always at each other’s throats.

On the other hand, the baby was mostly disregarded. Whenever the baby would cry for his mother, he was, on most occasions, ignored. Oftentimes, the more the ghost screamed, the more transparent he became. Neither the mother nor the father cared much for the child. Unplanned, the baby was a beast of burden, not the pleasant source of joy it should have been. The parents detested their lives like a house cat detests water. After the storm, the sky cleared up and the town warmed up. However, while the overall town became warmer, the ice inside the house remained. Love had lost the battle in the cold, barren home.

Starting on the day he was born, the baby had never slept with either his mother or father. He slept in a crib in a separate room. While the baby was in the dark, scary abyss, it constantly cried. “Just let the baby cry it out, it needs to toughen up and learn that this world is harsh,” the grinch would often sternly say. Night after night, the ghost would experience a pain in his face, heart, arms, and stomach. When the baby was about one year old, he decided that he could no longer bear the pain of neglect. His tantrums became quieter and quieter as the months passed by until he threw none.

“It’s about TIME that boy stopped crying,” said the mother.

From the parents’ perspective, all seemed fine for a while. As the baby grew into a toddler and then a kid, he never demanded much from his parents. In fact, he hardly made any overt demands at all. Once the boy started to go to school, he made friends. He would cling on to these friends as if he was holding on to the edge of a cliff. The boy would carry out favors that nobody asked for, expecting appreciation in return, then get mad when he wasn’t rewarded for such favors. He would take on the opinions and beliefs of other children without thinking about his own viewpoints. The boy had trouble standing on his own two feet. He could not stand being by himself while at school.

Once the boy reached adulthood, he continued the same pattern of behaviors mentioned above. He felt a void in his life. The man felt like a hollow chameleon that no one really knew. He was always attempting to please people, changing masks ever so slyly. He was never himself. In fact, he really didn’t know who he was. He blended in seamlessly with whatever group of people he was with at the time. He was seen, but unseen. People loved looking at their reflections through the transparent ghost. The man was no man at all. He was the boy in the crib that was unloved, yet knew not how to attain the love that he desperately sought.

The man continued to behave this way in spite of the lack of genuine positive feedback. But why? Surely, he knows that it’s impossible for people to like the real him if he keeps wearing masks. However, the man cannot help himself, for these patterns of behaviors have set roots in the depths of his psyche. Does the man not have free will? Can’t he simply change his behavior? The man has free will. All humans have free will. However, the will of the man has been thoroughly hijacked by a parasite. Said parasite is not a bug, plant, or fungus. Instead, this parasite is called a “neurosis.”

What is neurosis? Upon research via a search engine, you may discover many definitions of the word that are vague psychobabble. Therefore, allow me to provide you with a concise definition of the word. One can say that a neurosis is a “pattern of behavior based upon internal conflict and represents a fear of life, of sex, and of being.” This definition was coined by a psychologist named Alexander Lowen in Fear of Life (1980). Neuroses stem from the unconscious repression of infantile conflicts.

The man, who we shall now call Fred for convenience, is what Lowen would call a “neurotic character.” Fred’s inability to garner authentic companionship among his fellow man stems from the insecurity that developed when he turned into a ghost in his childhood home. Fred is unaware of this archaic insecurity. His neurotic behavior serves as a defense against the awareness of his despair – the same despair that called out for a loving mother for comfort in an eerily black room.

A neurotic person is produced by the failure to resolve a psychologically inadequate childhood. Like other animals, humans are born with innate drives, otherwise known as instincts. However, unlike other animals, humans must be trained to fit into their respective societies. Due to this fact, children are raised to behave in a manner that is conducive to the functioning of civilization. For thousands of years, advanced civilizations have been divorced from Mother Nature. This separation has generated a multitude of conflicts between the rules of said civilizations and the biological instincts of young children. Thus, children have no choice but to develop defense mechanisms to cope with life in a civilized world.

In this post, I will mention two overarching types of defense mechanisms – psychological and somatic. Starting with the psychological mechanisms, we can make a distinction between the healthy defense mechanism and the remaining pathological defense mechanisms. In The Psychoanalytic Theory of Neurosis (1945), Otto Fenichel stated that the only healthy psychological coping mechanism is sublimation. Sublimation is simply the redirection of energy that prevents the stagnation of frustration from the environment.

The other psychological coping mechanisms are unhealthy. These mechanisms include, but are not limited to, denial, projection, introjection, repression, reaction formations, and regression. These mechanisms are pathological because the energy generated by the lack of instinct gratification fails to be properly diffused when such mechanisms are deployed. Life is energy. Energy flows through all living organisms, from the petite barnacles on the beach to the pretty flowers on a field. You’ve heard of the phrase “get it off my chest,” haven’t you? Well, sublimation is the only psychological defense mechanism that enables the dispelling of psychic friction. Said friction would otherwise get “stuck” in the body.

This brings us to the somatic defense mechanism – armoring. What does “armoring” mean? Armoring is essentially the body’s way of repressing energy. For example, take a two-year-old child that cries due to getting her toy taken away. “STOP crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!” Since the girl is a very young child that justifiably cannot properly reason, she must hold back her disappointment by tightening the muscles in her body, particularly the cervix and diaphragm. Man in the Trap (1967), written by a physician named Elsworth F. Baker, divides the body into seven segments – ocular, oral, cervical, thoracic, diaphragmatic, abdominal, and pelvic. Each of these segments can develop armor.

To describe the process of armoring, Baker used an amoeba. If an amoeba is poked, it contracts. Then it re-expands. If it is poked again, it retracts again, then expands. The more the organism is poked, the longer it “waits” until it “decides” to re-expand. Since it “thinks” it will be poked again, it will remain in a tightly contracted state for a longer period, in case it is poked again. Being poked while contracted is less painful for the single-celled organism than being poked while expanded. The amoeba “wants” to avoid pain. But remember, an amoeba has no brain. It cannot “decide” or “want” or “think.” It has no conscious mind. Nevertheless, it can still temporarily armor itself to decrease the pain of being violated.

Similarly, the pain of crying for his wicked witch of a mother induced an insurmountable pain across Fred’s body. Fred’s muscles contracted to reduce the pain. In humans, armor can become chronic. Once Fred’s armor became chronic, he lost the ability to perceive his pain. In other words, his agony was repressed. It was at this point in his life that Fred transformed from a vital, healthy, self-regulated baby boy into a neurotic baby boy. Chronic armor blocks one’s perception of bodily pain. Said armor also blinds one to the depth of his soul, rendering him afraid to face the pain that stares at him through the mirror. The armor, along with the corresponding neurosis, acts as a shield to protect one from the truth of his being.

In the modern world, the overwhelming majority of humans are, to one degree or another, in some way, shape, or form, neurotic. All neurotic characters have chronic armor and every single person who is chronically armored is neurotic.

Do civilized humans without chronic armor exist? Yes, although they are rare gems. These people are not neurotic characters. Instead, they can be labeled as “self-regulated characters” or “reality-based characters.” A personality that stems from a self-regulated character is an ideal personality.

The armor of the self-regulated character is flexible. It appears only when it is needed and dissipates when it is not. There are times in life when your body needs to armor itself. For example, say you are a man with a wife and children. You wake up to a burning house. As the leader of your household, you will need to control yourself and reduce the sensation of panic to quickly get your wife and kids out of the house. At that moment in time, you are called to “stiffen up” and “gut it out” to save your loved ones. This is the purpose of armor. Non-human animals can temporarily armor themselves as well. Armoring is pathological only if it is chronic. Again, chronic armor blinds one to oneself. The chronically armored human is an unintegrated human that has not attained self-actualization.

Since the self-regulated character has no chronic armor, he is “orgastically potent,” which means that the energy that flows through his body experiences no automatic restrictions. This is the same energy that allows you to move your body; the same energy that showcases its brilliance to the world through the magnificent star we call the sun; the same energy that allows the birds and butterflies to glide gracefully in the air. As a result of this free-flowing energy, the self-regulated person dances through the ebbs and flows of life with harmony.

How does the self-regulated character compare to the neurotic character on a day-to-day basis? To answer that question, we can look to a book titled Character Analysis (1933). Written by a psychoanalyst named Wilhelm Reich, said book differentiates the two character types on a practical level.

The self-regulated character orients his thinking toward objective facts and processes. In other words, he thinks rationally and is open to considering well-formed counter arguments that oppose his judgments. The neurotic character attempts to orient his thinking toward objective facts and processes, but, unlike the self-regulated character, mixes his thinking with the objective to avoid pain. At the expense of discovering the truth of a matter, the neurotic character unconsciously refrains from participating in any situation that would force him to encounter the man in the mirror. The smooth flow of energy across the body of the self-regulated person enables him to think clearly. The distorted flow of energy across the neurotic person muddles his thinking with irrational thought processes.

With regards to behavior, the actions of the self-regulated character are aligned with the corresponding goals and motives. The self-regulated character lives his life in a manner that is clear, straightforward, and direct. He is a simple man. On the other hand, the actions of the neurotic character are relatively ineffectual due to contradictory motives. The neurotic character has repressed this hypocrisy and must keep his irrationally buried deep in the recesses of his mind. Otherwise, sadistic or other antisocial impulses will break through and cause trouble. Complicated and hypocritical, he prides himself in believing that he is a “simple man” like his self-regulated counterpart. With his head up high and eyes closed, he excels at ignoring his reflection.

According to the Big Five Personality Traits model, a “neurotic person” is someone who has a proclivity towards feeling negative emotions. This definition is only partially true. Yes, many neurotic characters are visibly prone to feeling anxiety, anger, sadness, and other unpleasant emotions. However, many people who our conventional society would consider “positive” or “always calm” are neurotic characters. How so? The chronic armor possessed by many people is exceptionally proficient at binding anxiety. When anxiety binds to armor within a person, the person’s perception of the anxiety diminishes. Again, for emphasis, the perception of the anxiety is nullified, not the anxiety itself. Think of a black ant on a black piece of paper. You can’t see the ant, but the insect is still on the paper.

An example of a neurotic character that seems non-neurotic and cool-headed is the fictional James Bond. To the extent that he is “rigid” and “stiff,” the agent is neurotic. He lacks the flexibility, spontaneity, and grace of a self-regulated person. Bond is what Lowen described as one of the “rigid characters” in The Language of the Body (1958). In contrast to a rigid neurotic character, the self-regulated character is attuned to the pulse of life; the same pulse that flows through into cherry blossoms on a lovely spring day; the same pulse that propels a serene swan on a glistening lake. This attunement allows the self-regulated character to experience life with joie de vivre and maintain his purity. This cleanliness of living is evidently aspirational. Why else do many people admire the historical figures known as Jesus and Buddha, be they real or mythological?

At this point, the following reminder shall be mentioned: “pure” and “clean” do not mean “weak” or “a pushover.” Remember that Jesus, again, be he real or fictional, indeed whipped some merchants with his mighty wrath. The self-regulated character lives his life from the core of his being without latching onto falsehoods via chronic somatic armor or unhealthy coping mechanisms. Unfortunately, well over 99% of people on this planet today are neurotic or otherwise psychologically deficient in some way. The neurotic character carries his armor like a knight, flinging his sword at every mirror that comes his way to protect the delusions his mind has constructed.

The ideal personality, which has no neuroses, lives life wholesomely; simple, clean, direct, and straightforward. Said personality is in love with life itself. Such a person embraces the mirrors that come his way. He expresses love from his core, fear from his core, as well as rage from his core. He is, in short, alive.