Mind Gym (26 page)

Great relationships are based on a sense of security. When you feel a lack of security, toxic transactions begin. Feeling insecure makes you want to adopt positions, or “roles.” This is a temporary response to a situation, like an actor playing a part, and not necessarily a reflection of your true character. The difference between you and an actor is that you’re not necessarily aware that you’re doing it.

There are three roles people tend to adopt: persecutor, rescuer, and victim. Each is looking for security in a different way:

   
•   The persecutor asks the other person to “agree with me.” He or she, at that moment, sees him- or herself as “correct” or in some way superior and will persist in trying to get you to agree.

   
•   The rescuer says “value me” or “appreciate how I can help.” This person sees their role as providing valuable support or rescue. They want you to follow their advice.

   
•   The victim says “protect me.” He or she believes they are worse off or in some way below the other person. They look for a persecutor to mistreat them or a rescuer to confirm that they can’t cope.

What happens in the “game” is that you take on a role (the rescuer, for instance) and the other person takes on a different role (let’s say the victim). Then at some stage you switch and take on one of the other roles. Perhaps you switch to the persecutor and the other person, as a result, switches to the victim. The game concludes only when one person switches roles, forcing the other to switch roles too. Psychiatrist Stephen Karpman describes this as the “drama triangle.”
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In all psychological games, one person takes on one of these roles and the other person another, different role.

Charlie offers Tim a glass of red wine, and as he does so, he accidentally spills it on the new carpet. Charlie freezes. He’s in shock by what just happened.

“So, are you just going to stand there staring at it?” asks Tim, slipping seamlessly into the persecutor role.

“Okay, okay, I’ll clean it up,” says Charlie, swiftly sliding into the victim role.

“I would hope so!” exclaims Tim.

Charlie returns from the kitchen with a cloth, but the game is still not over.

“Not that cloth, you idiot. Can’t you see it’s filthy? You’ll ruin the carpet!” shouts Tim.

Charlie, now thoroughly ensconced in the victim role, murmurs an apology, gets a different cloth, and starts attacking the stain.

“You’re rubbing it!” yells Tim. “Don’t you know you should be dabbing it?” And with that, he shoves Charlie out of the way and takes over, complaining that he’ll have to fix it—as he has to fix everything. “I suppose you’re just going to stand there watching,” he sneers.

And that’s when the switch happens. Charlie has had enough: “It’s only a tiny stain for heaven’s sake. This is just typical of you—obsessing over trivia. Don’t you have anything better to worry about? You’re pathetic,” he says, and then he marches out.

Now Charlie’s playing the persecutor and a very effective one. Tim, sitting on the floor with a cloth in his hand, suddenly feels small, stupid, and unhappy. He’s now become the victim. Game over.

This is unlikely to be a one-time game. Tim and Charlie probably play out variations on this theme repeatedly. Tim berates Charlie for being stupid until Charlie turns on him. Or, in the game’s language, Tim plays the persecutor until Charlie the victim moves into being Charlie the persecutor and Tim becomes the victim.

If the game is repeated, that’s evidence it works. It’s painful, yes, but it’s effective. A game may be so efficient at delivering the desired negative “fix” that you find yourself playing it with other people in your life, continually taking one of the three roles—persecutor, rescuer, or victim—and then switching. Of course, we all play these games, and we’re often totally unaware of it.

You can play these games anywhere. All you need is a playmate who wants to play in the same game—a sister, an employee, a friend. The fact that these games are particularly common in your intimate relationships may be an indication of how good of a match you have chosen in your partner. Basically, you’ve found someone who meets your needs—negative as well as positive. So, in the same way a well-organized person might be the ideal partner for someone who’s prone to losing stuff and forgetting things, a partner who tends to believe that others are incompetent (a persecutor) will be the perfect playmate for someone who tends to believe they aren’t deserving or good enough (a victim). Or a victim might hook up with someone who believes that other people always need help (a rescuer). In either partnership, the two playmates truly complement each other.

Once you’ve found someone who will take on the appropriate role, there are a variety of ways in which you can play out these little dramas. In the scene that opened this chapter—the person who’d had a bad day and the partner who was hoping to help—the game was “Why don’t you . . . Yes, but . . .” (“Why don’t you go to bed early?” “Yes, but that’s a bad suggestion because I’ll be up half the night sorting out this mess”).

Sometimes you might not go as far as switching roles. You might just pass the time playing victim and rescuer with each other. This kind of routine could get tedious, but it’s unlikely to be painful. In fact, you might call it “game lite.” To get a true payoff you have to move to a new position. Every good story needs something to change if the conclusion is going to feel satisfying. In psychological games, it’s that final switch of roles that brings the story to a painfully satisfying conclusion.

So, now that you know you’re likely playing these wicked games with people, how do you stop the game play from messing up your relationships? First, realize that game playing isn’t nice but it’s absolutely normal—pretty much everyone plays games at one time or another. Recognizing that you’re in a game at least gives you a way to understand what’s going on. It may also reduce any resentment you feel toward the other person. After all, they’re caught up in a game too.

It’s great to understand that you’re game playing, what roles you play, and that you’re not evil because you play. Still, the goal is to stop the playing to avoid hurting someone, getting hurt, or building up a stockpile of resentment toward your playmates. Here are four steps that can help you “sit out” the next game:

If your games are taking place at the unconscious level, you need to bring them into consciousness. Once you can identify the games, you can begin to take control of them and maybe even stop them before they begin. An easy way to remember this process is “Name it, claim it, and tame it.” By observing what’s going on, you reduce its impact. So, next time you find yourself asking,
How did I end up feeling so bad?
play the scene back and plot your roles on the drama triangle: persecutor, rescuer, or victim. Which role did you start in? Where did you end up? And what about your playmate? Can you think of other relationships in your life in which you play these roles?

Now share your knowledge. Talk to the other person about the game. Share your observations (e.g., “This is what I think is going on. Does that sound right to you?”). Between the two of you, identify when you tend to play this game and what triggers it. Then create a strategy to help you avoid it next time—maybe an alert that wakes you up to the fact that you’re slipping into the game. You could agree on a word or a signal that indicates as much: “We’re doing that thing again, aren’t we? Let’s stop, shall we?” Make sure to say “We’re doing that thing,” not “
You’re
doing that thing.” Remember, it takes two to dance the toxic tango. Get skilled at alerting yourself in this way and you’ll find it easier to sidestep the games. You’ll also defuse the tension.

Something lured you into the game—what was the hook? If you were the one who did the hooking, what bait did you use? If you can spot what got you into the game, you have a good chance of getting out of it. Although the game might feel irresistible, it’s not. You may not be able to control what the other person does, but you do have control over your own behavior. Note that just because you’ve turned down the bait once, it doesn’t mean it won’t be offered again in another form. The other person wants to play, and the more you turn them down, the more determined they’ll become. After all, you’ve had such fun together before: “Come on, you know you enjoy this game.” It takes a lot of will, as well as skill, to avoid getting hooked. So, be prepared to hang on in there.

Listed here are some of the most popular hooks used in games, the typical responses from each of the three positions—persecutor (P), rescuer (R), and victim (V)—that ought to be avoided, and some suggestions for responses to help you stop a game from developing.

Perhaps you’ve realized that you’re the one doing the hooking. You know from experience that your bait leads to a game that ends with both of you feeling badly, and you’d like to stop playing.

Next time you feel yourself slipping into a role and reaching for the bait, ask yourself,
What do I really want right now?
If you’re playing a game, you want attention, but is there a less toxic way of getting it? For example, perhaps you’ve noticed your tendency to act like a jerk toward another person when you feel tired after a long day. You know your partner always tries to help, but it never feels good enough, and you always end up feeling angry and unappreciated. Perhaps what you want is simply a hug. Or maybe you want five uninterrupted minutes with an audience so you can complain to your heart’s content and then you can forget about it. Or being left alone in silence for fifteen minutes to unwind might do the trick. Identify what it is you really want and see if you can negotiate a positive way to get it from the other person. You’ll save time, energy, and quite possibly your relationship.

Switching to a new position is the final maneuver in these psychological games. Once you’ve made the switch, there’s nothing much you can do; you’re in a painful position and the game is over. Up until that point, though, you still have a chance to escape without harm. You can get out. It’s hard, and the other person isn’t going to like it, but it can be done.

If you feel you’re in the middle of a game, press the pause button. Then tune in to yourself. Become aware of what you are about to say and realize that it is totally the wrong thing to say. It will only continue the game. Use skill and will to choose an alternative response that won’t propel the game into further motion. The previous list of hooks and responses should give you some ideas. When you find a response option that works, remember it. You’re going to need it again.

You’re probably feeling bruised, battered, and exhausted after last night’s game. But don’t give up. Tomorrow is another day and experience makes avoiding the games easier. In the meantime, reduce the pain by recognizing the past as just a losing streak. You’ve been hustled in your own game. Try laughing it off with the understanding that you’ll be smarter the next time and won’t get sucked into the game:
Okay, so I was caught again. I got hooked into the old “If it wasn’t for you” routine. It’s strangely funny and there’s no point in feeling torn up about it now. I know what happened. And I can stop it next time
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