Chains

I saw "Black Swan" last week, the new film by Darren Aronofsky about the psychological struggles of a young ballet dancer. In part it's a horror film, in part it's about losing one's mental defenses to pressure. A huge theme winding through the film is that of perfectionism, and the price that perfection exacts from you.

I identified in many ways with the young protagonist, Nina. She holds herself back and is afraid to feel, wanting technical perfectionism. She begs for notes from the choreographer, who keeps telling her that she is technically perfect but passionless. In one scene he says to her, "You could be brilliant, but you're a coward."

She fights within herself, not knowing which way to go, or even how to find her footing, whether in dance or in relationships. Her overbearing stage mother treats her as a childlike doll, keeping her in claustrophobic emotional proximity and pushing her own feelings onto her daughter--not unlike many stories of adoption.

In a sense, Nina was chained by insecurities and others expectations, and her escape from her prison--through perfection--was tragic.

I have moments in my life when I feel my own strength, or when others notice it. Professors told me that they were impressed by my insights; while I would feel hubristic to call myself brilliant, there are moments when I feel that my ideas are transcendent and powerful. And then I retreat, like Nina in the film, to the prison in my head where voices tell me that I am not good enough, I will never be good enough, and that I am awkward. Thus cowardice. Why is it so hard to stand up with my own fire in my belly and tell others to listen to ME?

Friends and family keep telling me to write my story. Again, cowardice. I am afraid to put myself out there to be eviscerated. I wish that I could brush off the opinions of people who don't matter and who make a point to be rude. I am doing better at this, but I feel handicapped by the palimpsest of life experiences in which I was demeaned, devalued, and bullied. I wonder how so many people out there appear to be so strong. Some is arrogance, some is masquerade, some is stupidity. The more insecure the person, in general, the more rude and vicious they are, and the more they'll argue their point as being the only one worth merit. And of course, one of my gifts, courtesy of adoption, is the ability to read people's emotions with exquisite accuracy, even when they try to mask them. So I know when people are bullshitting me, and I say nothing.

I have decided, though, that it is time to face down my cowardice and do what I feel is right. To say what I feel, even though it may hurt other people. To take care of myself instead of carrying other people's burdens, especially the burdens of people who are irrelevant to me.

I am petrified to return to work tomorrow. IVs and procedures aside, it is an environment that can be extremely rude and nasty. I was talking to my dear friend N on New Year's Eve (she works in an Emergency Department) about how many MDs treat nurses like we're idiots who do inferior work. She said that when she began at her job last year, she applied the "killing with kindness" method, but only got railroaded and treated even worse. The MDs were either too arrogant or too heinous to read between the lines of what she said. So she moved on to telling it straight up: "You have your job, and I have mine. They are both hard. I don't treat you rudely, and having an MD doesn't give you a license to treat others as lesser than you are. Get over yourself." I will try this. I am wayyyy too nice for my own good.

Sorry for the spoiler that follows, but it's relevant. In the final scenes of the film, Nina dances the role of the Swan Queen. In the end of the ballet, the Swan Queen commits suicide because that's her only release from a lifetime of pain. It's an acted death--or should be. But to be perfect, Nina stabbed herself before dancing the Black Swan, and she dies at the end of the act, just as her character does. She needed escape--and perfection--and got it. As Hamlet said, "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished." I understood Nina's (and the character's) motivation, but haven't yet made that leap off the cliff.

I struggle with my perfectionist tendencies and feelings of self-loathing, internalizing the cruel words of others. I can understand all too well how Nina felt. Living a future filled with darkness and self-doubt is not a prospect to be welcomed. The chains are heavy.