#‘and now I have to spend adulthood reparenting myself’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

socialattractionuk · 5 years

Text

Why are we so attracted to authority figures?

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

If you’re one of the six people in the UK who hasn’t watched season two of Fleabag, then here’s what you need to know.

The second series follows Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s unnamed character, who is equal parts hot mess and perfect woman, as she attempts to charter the choppy waters of a sexually charged friendship with an extremely attractive priest.

Fleabag asks all sorts of clever questions about modern life, like what role religion has in 2019, how it’s possible to be both sex positive and recognise that casual sex can come from an unhealthy place and why some people look so much better in a jumpsuit than others.

But the question I found myself asking, as I had a demi orgasm over Andrew Scott telling Phoebe Waller-Bridge to ‘kneel’, is why I – and a lot of other women – am so desperately, universally, unflinchingly attracted to figures of authority.

For me it started with teachers. I went to an all-girl boarding school so obviously everyone had a crush on a member of staff. When you go that long without seeing anything male it’s only natural. But for me it was deeper. I didn’t just like a bit of male attention or entertain the occasional fantasy.

Something about the combination of male, older and in a position of authority made me feel safe, protected and sheltered.

Even worse than teachers were priests. At Catholic school they’re an occupational hazard. When we very occasionally had an attractive (or even semi-attractive) man of the cloth brought in to talk to us, I was utterly spellbound. The heady combination of forbidden fruit, caring paternalistic role and position of total authority (what’s more powerful than a direct line to actual God?) was impossible to resist.

I had assumed that once I left school and met some boys my fixation on teachers, priests and anyone with any kind of authority would fade away. Sadly, it didn’t, which is how I found myself in a four and a half year long relationship with a man 36 years my senior.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Francesca, 34, tells Metro.co.uk that she has a similar problem: ‘I’ve fancied almost every boss I’ve ever had. When I worked as a temp I would fall for anyone senior in an office who was kind to me or took a moment to explain how to use the coffee machine.

‘It’s something about someone senior taking time to focus on me, like I’m special and worthy of extra attention. I can’t resist it.’

It doesn’t feel very empowered to be filled with a constant desire to hook up with people who can exert control.

Sex and relationships psychologist Natalie Cawley says a fascination with powerful people is a common tendency, explaining: ‘Studies have been done whereby people are artificially put in a position of power for a short time. The results show people were more likely to engage in conversation with the ‘powerful person’ who also inspired more creativity and spontaneity. Such effects may increase the likelihood of desire.’

So it’s normal, but where does this power fetish actually come from?

Natalie says: ‘The desire or attraction seems to come, in part, from the idealised view of the person, it is assumed that because a person holds a position of power they are respected, capable, together and are able to contain and respond to our own fragility or chaos. For such a person to value us would reinforce our ego and communicate to others that we are valuable, lovable and worthy.’

Power imbalances in relationships are a hot topic following the #MeToo movement. Undeniably there have been abuses of power from people in positions of authority both towards adults and children.

Fortunately for me, every authority figure I fell for in my adolescence either didn’t notice my thumping great crush, or wasn’t inclined to take advantage of it.

More: Football

Arsenal provide injury updates on Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Aaron Ramsey

Conor McGregor helps make history after 6 months worth of his whiskey sold out in 10 days

Stop what you're doing and Google Thanos for the best Avengers: Endgame Easter egg

In adulthood the boundaries of appropriate relationships are blurred. We know that relationships between teachers and students are wrong, similarly between underage teenagers and adults. But what about when the object of your affection doesn’t have power over you directly? Does fancying someone because they have authority within their own life constitute a problem?

Lianne Young, a sex and relationships counsellor, says: ‘Being attracted to men who have positions of authority over other people may mean nothing apart from you like having the option to be submissive. But it could mean you are insecure and looking for security from someone else.

‘If you find the idea of someone making decisions for you, that can be dangerous territory as then you run the risk of becoming an object within the relationship and being reliant upon someone else.’

It’s impossible to make blanket statements about whether or not a relationship is healthy or unhealthy, but women who seek out powerful men over and over again might well be trying to heal internal wounds.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

Natalie goes on to explain: ‘The desire for those in power is deeply rooted in our psyche. In evolutionary terms someone in a position of power is seen as someone with resources and abilities that will create viable offspring and therefore we are driven to form an attachment with them.

‘The attraction to power will also be based on an individual’s early attachment relationships. If one had a parent (particularly the opposite sex parent) who held a position of power in a nurturing, containing and protective manner the may be more likely to be attracted to such qualities in a mate.

‘If someone felt invalidated by someone in a power position in the family they may also seek out powerful mates. This is because as humans we commonly have a repetition compulsion, we repeat patterns in relating that are familiar to us, as this is less threatening.

‘We also engage in relationships with a similar dynamic and seek a different outcome in an attempt to gain reparation for the first invalidating relationship.’

As with any repeated behaviour or compulsion, there is a reason that we keep going for authority figures, and as Natalie says it’s probably to do with childhood trauma (isn’t everything?)

More: Sex

Garlic cloves will not fix your yeast infection, so please don't put them into your vagina

Unwanted sexting could lead to mental health problems, research says

Couples who sleep in separate beds 'have better sex'

Whether or not a romantic of sexual predilection is ‘healthy’ is an enormous question and one I could burn some serious cash working out in therapy. Suffice to say, I doubt that my fetish for men in power positions is a hallmark of A Grade psychological health, but it’s also an ingrained part of my personality.

It would have been contrived in the extreme to spend my twenties dating passive, laidback men who thrived on irresponsibility just to avoid pandering to my power fetish.

In the end, I found a sort of cure for my fixation in the shape of my husband – eleven years my senior, capable of pulling rank occasionally, but very much not in a position of authority over me and not interested in micromanaging my life.

But even now, if I’m seated next to a teacher at a dinner party, he’ll raise an eyebrow at me across the table, full in the knowledge that I’ll never quite be able to shake my addiction to authority figures, and that I’m very slightly hoping they’ll ask why I haven’t handed in my coursework.

MORE: Could micro-dating be the relationship saver time-poor parents need?

MORE: The signs you’re dating someone who has a fear of commitment

MORE: Someone has placed an ad in The Times to announce they are exclusively dating

0 notes

shuvani99 · 6 years

Text

I had a hard time holding my newborn. When I was pregnant, I practiced carrying a string bag filled with oranges, and a sack of potatoes. Weights and hydrotherapy also played an important role. When my daughter came along, I found it very difficult to hold her, and wrangling her as an active toddler was a challenge! Breaking my back again when she was three, saw me unable to carry her; even navigating a roundabout in the car would see me bite my lip to avoid screaming in agony.

I am a planner and think a great deal of the future. I guess when one has had so much out of their control, you grip onto that which you can have power over. My spine is a case in point. Working with weights each day and walking are things I can do to prepare for the future. I had researched spinal cord stimulation, and sought experts in this particular field. I was excited about the prospect of being able to cope as my back pain became more challenging (the fusion sites are already wearing out with age). I was so young when the damage happened, which means that preparations and reparations have to be considered now. I thought of my daughter as a teenager and young woman. I want to travel with her, and maybe one day be a hands-on grandmother to any children she may have. I want to be able to hold those babes in my arms. Unfortunately, a site of major damage is the thoracic region. Holding anything in my arms is agonizing. For a year, I harboured hope that spinal cord stimulation would help. It was to be my insurance policy; a nod to the next decades of life.

Last week, my daughter and I saw Evita at Sydney Opera House. It was a spectacular production, which left us spellbound. Tina Arena as Eva Peron, was stunning, and deserved the standing ovation which she received. My girl asked lots of questions about Argentina, and we researched it’s history online after we left. We stayed in Sydney overnight, having a leisurely brunch before seeing my spinal specialist. Armed with my latest test results, I followed the doctor to his rooms, unaware of what was to come. I assumed we would be arranging to have a trial device implanted. Spinal stenosis and fibrosis at the site of former surgeries meant that there isn’t adequate space to weave the wires through. I can’t even have epidural injections to manage the pain. Having surgery to place a stimulator would be far too hazardous, as it turned out. It was a lot to take in. It means I have to reimagine my future, and my daughter has to reimagine hers. Simple things like sitting or carrying luggage, going on long treks or long-haul flights will be that much more difficult.

I went home and cried. I watched the movie Frida, as I laid on my Frida cushions. It will be a reimagined future. I am doing everything in my power to keep my bones and muscles, kidneys, lungs and mind strong in preparation. There will be no hope of relief nor reprieve from the merciless pain. It shall always be there, a constant reminder of the brutality of my youth. It will limit what work I can take on, and how far I am able to drive. I will be damned if it limits what I can do with my daughter. She stubbornly took my suitcase off of me the other day, on our way to our hotel room, giggling as she ran ahead, despite my protestations. She reaches out her arm to me, and carries my backpack on her strong shoulders each and every day.

We shared the bus ride to RPA with an eloquent middle-aged gentleman who was homeless. He was Italian, and ate a tomato as though it were an apple. He reorganized his bag, and when he stood, he rolled deodorant under his armpits, before gifting the family opposite a drawing. He read a book on philosophy as he sat back down, finishing his tomato with relish. As we departed, he tipped his hat. I would love to know his story; I’m sure it is brimming with pathos and triumphs. The most remarkable stories are.

I have always been fascinated by birds, butterflies and dragonflies. How wondrous it would be, to have wings. For over half my life, I have been fused from my shoulders down, with limited range of movement. I am grateful that I have been able to walk, and if my mobility were to cease tomorrow, there would be no lamentations. I just want (and need), to be well enough to see my daughter through to her adulthood.

For a moment, I regretted the time and money spent seeing specialists and having all of the tests done. What a monumental waste of a year! Then there was the matter of the space all of this took up in my brain. I had put things off ‘until after I had the device fitted.’ Ironically, as I reflect, I see that these days had only brought my daughter and I closer together. We had stayed in the city, walking and laughing in the rain. We brunched and cheered on street performers. We had been together, smart phones displaced from our hands. I found myself outside the Downing Centre courts, a place I had avoided since the court case I endured at sixteen, trying to get a bad man to pay for the vile things he had done. I stood outside for fifteen minutes, waiting for our bus. Lost in my thoughts, the Italian gent, tomato in hand, tipped his cap and we talked. Mental illness had robbed him of a lot, but not his heart. Physical injury had robbed me of a lot, though not my heart. For a moment, we were in simpatico. He gestured for my girl and I to board the bus before him, and I glanced out the window at the imposing courts. I had come back to retrieve that girl.

Perhaps, none of it was about a spinal cord stimulator. Perhaps it was to give me leave to spend quality time with my daughter. Maybe it was also about facing another piece of the past. Maybe it was to show me that I can organize travel and hotels and that I am enough for my daughter. I am the mum that she needs. Perhaps it was to affirm that I need to let go of fear. The worst has come and gone and I am still here. Maybe I was meant to meet the Italian fellow, and be encouraged to eat vine-ripened tomato’s as though they were apples. He even ate the stem, and I realized that nothing is ever wasted. The same is true with lives.

I have been referred to a physical therapist, and my specialist is going to review my case at the next practice meeting. As I reflect on the year gone by, I see no wastage. My daughter and I had experiences we would never have had, and seen parts of Sydney that we wouldn’t have. We have met magical people, been in magical shops, had magical food and stepped out of comfort zones. The only thing left to do is eat a tomato as though it were an apple.

Frida, Tomatoes and Giving Pain Meaning I had a hard time holding my newborn. When I was pregnant, I practiced carrying a string bag filled with oranges, and a sack of potatoes.

#Back Pain #hope #Inspiration #Spinal Cord Stimulator #Spines #Sydney #Tomatoes

0 notes