Splitting

The Bad Julie Escapes

splitting

Earlier this week, I served on a jury for a short, five-hour case. I was tired because I had been busier than usual for the last couple of weeks. The jury service came up right after the other commitment ended, and I had no time to rest and regain my equilibrium.

The case was a personal injury claim arising from an auto accident. It was reasonably straightforward. This was the first time I had been chosen for a jury, and I had wanted to experience it, so I didn’t mind going.

It was a long day, sitting in the courtroom quietly and focusing on every word that was said. As the jury, we couldn’t talk to each other about the case on breaks, so when we finally started deliberating, everyone spoke at once, releasing some of the pent-up energy.

By the time deliberation started, I was drained. We had been instructed that if we answered “yes” to the first of the judge's five questions, the case would be decided. Amid the cacophony of voices, I suggested we start with question one and see where we stood. People kept talking about other questions. I became frustrated and repeated my suggestion a little more forcefully. The other jurors still kept talking. The foreperson was distracted by something she was writing. I finally pleaded with the group to speak one at a time so we could hear each other. The room quieted. Eventually, we did focus on question one, and in fact, we answered yes, so we didn’t need to go any further.

Leaving the courthouse, I felt like a raging bitch. Nobody said anything to me, but I imagined they all witnessed bad Julie, and I felt ashamed.

The next day, marinating in regret, I related this experience to a friend, describing it as letting the bad Julie escape. She immediately pointed out that my behavior is not an indication that I am bad. She even suggested that some people might have been glad I said what I said. I can’t ever know that, but I realized that I was splitting myself.

Splitting describes the tendency to see people as good or bad. When they do something pleasing, they are all good. When they do something objectionable, they are all bad. The same applies to me. When I do something I can be proud of, I am a wonderful person. When I do something that others may dislike, I am a terrible person.

Of course, everyone’s personality is a mixture of positive and negative traits. Splitting exaggerates the difference between the two and makes it hard to see the whole person (even myself) in their natural complexity.

Nancy Newton Verrier, in her book The Primal Wound: Understanding the Adopted Child, explains:

Adoptees tend to split the images of good and bad, not only for their parents, but for themselves as well. Many adoptees have told me that they see themselves as having an innate “badness” or flaw, which got them kicked out of paradise in the first place and which threatens to trigger another rejection. They see themselves as unloved and unlovable. Even if this is not conscious, it will be evident in their relationships with others.

I have endured an intense inner world for as long as I can remember. Verrier asserts that adoptees may find themselves “constantly assessing the ‘climate’ of the environment in order to know how to behave,” causing anxiety which can lead to “exaggerated behavior,” thoughts, and feelings.

This resonates strongly with me. I am always on the lookout for how people might react to me. My assessment of myself can change quickly if I perceive a negative response, even if it is just the person’s body language. As I force the lid on the cauldron of bad Julie emotions, I increase the anxiety I feel. If it rises enough, the lid blows off and the bad Julie escapes.

Years ago, my son pointed out to me how intense I was. I remember dropping him off at school one day, when he told me his friends found me intimidating. They sensed my charged affect and were uncomfortable with it.

Around the same time, my supervisor pointed out that my fervor didn’t always serve me well. I could be hard to work with.

When I received that feedback, I remembered an experience I had with a boss in college. I tended bar for him for a few years. He encouraged me to be aware of my effect on others. He told me that when I was in a good mood, the place lit up. But a grumpy mood dampened the atmosphere.

Sometimes when I read about adoptees’ psychology, I wonder if it is overstated. Do I really feel “unloved and unlovable” as Verrier wrote? It seems overwrought. Then I have an experience like I did this week, and I realize that, whether I am conscious of it or not, I have been profoundly affected by the loss of my birth mother. No matter how many good experiences I had with my parents, who raised me, that simple fact cannot be undone. I will always be on alert for another rejection.

Healing comes from recognition of the dynamic. Talking with my friend and being reminded that I am not bad, that I was splitting, dissolved the discomfort. It used to take much longer than it does now. I am grateful for that.