Everything about this situation is completely counter-intuitive. Every instinct I have makes me want to do the thing which ameliorates my pain or assuages my guilt or lessens someone else's suffering.

And in another context that would make sense. Someone is mad at you? Apologize. Make peace with them. Be honest with them. Don't feel good about yourself? Focus on the positive things. Remember the time you did that neat thing. Remember the time you do that thing you didn't think you could do. See, you're not so bad.

But in this context, all those instincts are perfectly wrong. Why? Because while they do make me feel better briefly, they all act to increase my attachment to the object. And that's the counter-intuitive aspect of this whole thing. ANYTHING I do which makes me feel better within the context of her and "us" and all that, is bad. And so I have to be supremely vigilant to make sure I'm not doing the wrong thing and increasing the attachment. Because eventually I'm going to have to separate. And that separation brings incredible pain and potential problems for others. And the more attached I am, the worse all that's going to be.

I messed up a few weeks ago. One of my former objects came back into the picture in a bizarre turn of events. In addition to being a potential problem just in isolation, she came back within the context of my current object.

Okay, so here's how it goes down. She stands up to me for being a jerk. Fine. That's warranted. And good for her for having the courage to do so. I then respond kindly to her because, well, I have no beef with her -- she's no longer my object. So then she responds with kindness as well and it's like a Hallmark moment. Awwwww, what a lovely scene of love and peace and forgiveness.

But that's not good. Because now my mind is getting jolly again. And even though I don't recognize it, that gleefulness is strengthening my bond with the object. (Actually, it's strengthening my bond with both my former object and my current object. And since both attachments must and will eventually break, this process is a double whammy.) And the strengthening of the bond is ALWAYS bad. Why? Because that bond eventually must be broken. And the stronger it is, the more violent that process is going to be.

Imagine collapsing in front of the TV. You've had a rough day and it's time to veg out. You start flicking channels. Click. Click. Click. Something catches your eye and you stop to watch. Then you remember, "Wait, every time I see something I want to watch, I have to change the channel." And so you change the channel. Click. Click. Click. And then something catches your eye again and you stop.

This is the process. Everything that goes on in my mind that seems to make sense emotionally, is wrong. Everything that makes me feel good in the short term is actually highly counter-productive. Every instinct I have to treat these people well, or to treat them as I would treat any person I knew normally, just moves things in the wrong direction. Good things are bad and bad things are good. And so, despite it going against ever instinct in my body, I have to squash the good feelings and actively embrace the bad.

Why is this? It's because my mind wants to view things from a relational perspective when I actually need to be viewing things from a pathological perspective. I need to get outside of myself and see things objectively instead of letting my emotional mind dictate the way I frame things and react to them. Delusions are the proper analogy. (Actually, my issue is probably just a lesser form of delusions.) If the delusional does battle with his problem by focusing on whether or not his wife is cheating on him, and trying to prove that definitively one way or the other, he's going to get consumed by the delusion. He's inside it and can't see out.

But if there was some way to get outside of that head space and look at the whole situation and say, "Oh, wait, those thoughts are pathological. The problem is the disorder, not whether or not my wife is a cheating whore," then one could maybe tame the beast, or at least wouldn't be so susceptible to its pernicious qualities.

That's my challenge. I have to be ever-vigilant in reminding myself that my instinctual perspective is fundamentally flawed. This is a disorder. The disorder trumps everything. Things must be conceived of on that level, viewed from that perspective, and the notion of the relationship must be put aside. In some ways that's unfair to the others, and it certainly stinks, but they got themselves into this mess -- I never even invited them to this dance. I'd help them if I could; I truly would. But I can't do that. I literally cannot do that. Not only would the attempt make things worse for me, but it would make things worse for them later. It's already happened once, with disastrous consequences. We can't do that again.. The disorder must be the focus. Not the object. The object is interchangeable and, in reality, insignificant. It is the disorder which must be engaged. That is the battlefield on which the war must be waged.