Nothing To Defend

My daughter has a vendetta. A girl at school, who to me still remains nameless, has done something that has made my daughter decide to seek revenge. While I may never know the offense, so far there have been elaborate plans with friends that will culminate at the end of this week with some sort of “prank” that involves Bluetooth earpieces purchased for $5 on Amazon, scary music piped in on portable speakers, and ski masks.

“Just don’t get arrested,” I told her.

I cannot fault her for this. She comes from a long line of people who are very comfortable imagining and maybe even seeking revenge. During my divorce, I lovingly called my dad the “Angel of Vengeance,” because he and only he would voice out-loud the terrible thoughts I myself was having about my ex. While the vengeful parts of me would only dream about ruining my ex’s reputation, or making his life miserable, or pissing him off so badly he would fall on his own sword, my father would say them outright. With glee in his voice and a twinkle in his eye he would dream up plans of revenge that were both crafty and cool. I never hatched any of his plans, but I was grateful for them; some part of me needed to at least envision them at the time. His mother, my grandmother, was also a lover of revenge. Growing up I heard on the regular a story about how, after my grandfather died early in his 50’s from pancreatic cancer, their financial advisor fleeced her for a good chunk of their money. “That son of a bitch,” she would hiss as we lay in bed for our goodnight stories, “I went into his office and put a curse on him so his balls would fall off.” My sister and I loved that story.

Yet if we recount the times in our lives where we sought retribution for the crimes committed against us, we can see in hindsight that the results were not so sweet. Following those stories through to the end, I know at least for myself, I ended up regretting drawing out a vendetta, holding a grudge, and seeking resolution from someone who was already out to get me in the first place. There aren’t many of these stories—for I don’t have many enemies—but the few that exist in my history didn’t pan out so well. And if I think about the conflict I’ve had with my ex over the 10 years we’ve been divorced, I can say with great confidence that fighting back against offenses to my character or my needs or my beliefs only ended in my nerves feeling jangled and my heart feeling a little more broken. Never once did I feel vindicated, seen, or heard. So there’s that. 

In Buddhism there is the rich and very complicated notion of “No Self,” the tenet that there is no enduring “I” or “me.” It states that we exist purely as a result of the “aggregates,” our sense perceptions, which are changing moment by moment. Therefore, what we think of as our “self” is not a fixed, permanent entity at all. Instead, we are a constantly fluctuating process made up of physical form, sensations, perceptions, thoughts, and consciousness. I find this teaching to be particularly helpful when it comes to feeling the need to defend myself against someone who has slighted me. If there is no Self, then there is nothing to defend.

Now, you may already be scoffing at the idea as it seems Nihilistic at its core, but it’s not. Quite the contrary. If there is no self, we are not giving up on life and its purpose or meaning. Rather, we are becoming aware that our lives are imbued with only the meaning we give them, based on how we experience and perceive them. If I perceive my ex as being out to get me, then that is how I will continue to experience all our interactions. I will see, sense, and feel every encounter as a fight to preserve my dignity because in my mind he is trying to take it from “Me.” However, if I remember the idea of No Self, then I can stay separate from the beliefs about threats to my character that hold me hostage to our conflicts. It helps me to remember that what’s important to me is my kids’ well-being and getting shit done for them. No Self captures the idea that many of our psychological problems arise from our clinging to a fixed identity. When our attachment to that Self loosens, so does our suffering. As cognitive neuroscientist and author Chris Niebauer said in his book on neuroscience and Buddhism, “No Self, No Problem.”  

I, of course, will not be sharing this concept with my 14 year old.

I will, however, find other ways to talk about it with her. It’s a magical thing to wake up and realize that there’s a psychological part of us that wants us to survive, even if it means mowing down those who stand in our way, and that we don’t always have to buy in to the story this part is telling us. Much like my own experience with trying to co-parent, this teenage enemy did something by which my daughter cannot abide. But the tighter we hold on to the notion that they have injured our precious “Self,” the deeper the neural groove around hatred and enmity becomes. Sure, we are allowed to say that what the other person did sucked. And, it doesn’t mean it’s personal. Letting go of the notion that there is actually something I need to defend, I free myself from an argument that really has the potential to go nowhere positive. Thus, I let go and see the situation with clarity: here we are, two humans, both trying to get our needs met. Who knows why our exes (or our frenemies) behave the way they do—maybe it’s trauma, or a bad hair day, or jealousy, or fear—it’s really none of our business.

I get that this is a little complex, so just wear the concept around for a little and see what it does for you. Practice with a small thing—your ex gives you a hard time about leaving a lunchbox at your house—practice making it not about some “You,” or what they are doing “to You,” (even if they make it sound like it is) and see how freeing it feels. As it becomes more comfortable, you’ll find that letting go of a Self in some more contentious situations allows you to see things more clearly, with a little more room around what’s important. It really allows us to have a much clearer sense of what we actually need to do in any given situation, unclouded by the Ego’s need for validation of its Selfhood.  In the end, it’s a tremendous relief to know that “I,” separate from everyone else, don’t really exist, and neither, really, does my foe.