Unrequited Love

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This is a bit of an experiment. I seem to have had positive reactions from personal posts, so I thought I’d try one here. It doesn’t start off that way, but ends up intensely so.

Limerence.

A while ago, I used to run a support group for people who were romantically stuck on one individual and couldn’t do anything about it. It apparently worked quite well although with hindsight I’m not sure it actually helped. It’s a little like this blog in a way. The original purpose of this blog was for me to dump stuff which was on my mind so it didn’t distract me from doing other things, but in fact it seems to feed the urge to write. Similarly, the fact that people had a place to go where they could express their feelings about this other person, whoever it might be, I now think may have fed their craving, as it were, and I’m not now sure it was a good idea. Nonetheless, with my history I was probably a good choice for the group. The way it happened was that a young woman with the problem had a mutual acquaintance who knew about my history and decided I was a good fit because he was a first-hand witness to what had happened.

To be honest, I’m not sure what would actually have helped. The alternatives seem to be either to express yourself, though probably not to the object of your affections, or to try to ignore it and hope it goes away, but either of these isn’t ideal because in the former case it seems to stoke it and in the latter it pushes harder until you have to acknowledge it for the sheer sake of honesty to yourself. It just will become the element in the room. Another option might be to keep yourself busy.

Dorothy Tennov is a psychologist specialising in unrequited love, and it was her who invented the word “limerence”. It’s a useful word meaning, to quote Wikipedia:

A state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person and typically includes obsessive thoughts and fantasies and a desire to form or maintain a relationship with the object of love and have one’s feelings reciprocated.

One of the purposes of using the word limerence is that if you don’t, you can easily get bogged down in a circular conversation or intenal rumination about whether it’s love or infatuation rather than getting past that question and addressing the actual problem. Some of the time, of course, it isn’t a problem at all because it’s simply the mechanism which gets two people together into a relationship which is real, although there may be other issues there such as what they call “falling in love too easily”. Tennov’s word enables one to name something which is a real psychological phenomenon. The problem is that we have a biological drive to do this which will continue to push at us until it gets resolved. Although it has obsessive-compulsive elements to it, anyone, apart presumably from aromantic people, can fall victim to this phenomenon and in fact having obsessive-compulsive personality traits is not a good predictor of whether this will happen. It can also, very unfortunately, edge into erotomania and stalking, although not for most people who become limerent.

It’s easily possible that the problem won’t resolve at all. Tennov quotes a case where someone became fixated on someone in her adolescence and her diaries showed that this continued for the next seventy-six years, after which she died. No use to anyone else and completely tied up in someone, regardless of what her prospects would have been for another situation, the poor woman died sad and alone, never having had a relationship, because of this fixation. And the thing to bear in mind is, this is a vulnerability which most people have.

A certain set of circumstances usually leads to persistent and unsatisfied limerence, and I can confirm that this pattern was common in the group. An initial event draws a person to someone’s attention and they develop the usual “falling in love”-type emotional and thought pattern which is presumably supposed to satisfy the function of biological reproduction, although there is a major caveat here: it obviously isn’t confined to heterosexual couples. Then something happens which frustrates the limerent individual’s ability to achieve closure. For instance, the person concerned may move to a distant part of the country or turn out to be in a stable relationship. Since it’s happened to me twice, I’ve unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for the support group, been forced to become an expert in this, although the first case is less typical than the second, which is more text book. The way it happened can be easily traced with hindsight, and in fact I was more or less aware of it at the time. Vicky happened to choose to go on a tour of Europe with her partner at the point when I would’ve wanted to resolve it. Note that resolution absolutely did not mean going out with her. Rather, I wanted a short, sharp rejection which would make it clear that nothing could happen. It has also been mentioned that it was odd that she didn’t “do the boyfriend mention”. I think this is because she was oblivious of what was happening, or aware of it but didn’t consider it her problem, which is true. She didn’t owe me anything. It just happened. I got unlucky.

Incidentally, you might think it’s a bit careless of me to use her real name, although obviously I’m not going to mention her surname. In my defence, it’s widely known what happened, it’s quite a common name and she’s never going to read this.

Although there is a pattern to the circumstances in which this kind of thing happens, certain people are more susceptible than others. For instance, there is a tendency for them to test with a significantly higher IQ than average, and they tend to be underoccupied in some way. These things are known from the literature. Another aspect some people are aware of, although so far as I know it isn’t backed up by any research, is that it can be a mid-life crisis-type thing. That was obviously not true of me. Going back to the first two, the mind tends to find things to occupy itself in a vacuum. I’ve already mentioned the Ganzfeld state of consciousness, and there are other happenings such as Charles Bonnett Syndrome. The brain will often attempt to fill in blanks where input is not available, particularly when someone is quite imaginative. Therefore it’s possible to be quite reductive about this and look at it as a pretty straightforward process of one’s romantic proclivities colonising the empty space one wishes to be occupied by the object of one’s affections. The practice of constantly doodling love hearts and playing with the person’s name and initials comes to mind.

Unrequited love has serious consequences for the person feeling it. It can lead them to end their lives and break up their real, long-term relationships such as marriage. Other psychologists are not keen on the concept for some reason I haven’t been able to fathom. There’s also the question of cross-cultural applicability, since romantic love is not considered significant in every culture. Most of Tennov’s research used American cases. The idea of a biological drive that fuels this is also very much of its time, since she published in 1979 and it comes across as quite “Selfish Gene”-y, in the sense that it uses quite crude understandings of evolutionary psychology.

So there’s that. I should probably talk about personal experience although it seems quite egoistic.

When I was about sixteen, one of my teachers said that when one has fallen in love, the question doesn’t even occur to one that one is in love. This set the bar high for deciding what was love, because I question everything. Consequently throughout my late teens and early twenties I doubted my own feelings. I do believe that in the earlier case, I was more in love with the idea of being in love than actually in love, and there were complicated things going on there. That situation persisted for four and a half years from the age of fourteen. There was then a very sudden transfer of affection to Vicky. It became very urgent to “inject a bit of reality into the situation”, as I put it at the time. That is, find out what the real situation was and use that to defuse the “love bomb” and get past it. It did seem very likely that she would be in a relationship, but my feelings ran away with me. And I will say that. They did run away with me. I didn’t indulge them, fantasise about romantic love or anything like that. I simply had no control. The way I’d addressed the previous situation was to become friends with the girl, later woman, in question, and that persisted and went excellently. According to a friend of Vicky’s, she was not keen on having friendships with men and was very motivated by sexual attraction instead, which meant that wasn’t a viable route out of the situation. I have no idea if this is true or not.

Here’s a checklist to distinguish between love and infatuation:

(from Quora, will be removed on request, annoying typo).

I would say that my feelings for Vicky followed the list on the left. Although I’ve said that the transfer of affection was sudden, it had in fact been building for about nine months by the point it became frustrated. It was all about caring for her, it lasted years but it could not be honest because the situation made it impossible to talk to her about it. It was not based on physical attraction, which in fact I found off-putting. Since I don’t experience jealousy, that’s probably not worth including. Therefore, if this list is reliable (what do you think?) it really was love.

Incidentally, I don’t want this to be all about me in the sense that she is just some untouchable perfect being on a pedestal or something. I liked Vicky because her values and political beliefs were similar to mine, because she was a political activist and because she was somewhat academically inclined. She was also quite laid back and easy to relate to. I thought at the time that she would be one of a number of people who had those qualities, because it’s almost a stereotype of a lefty woman student, but strangely that combination never came up again. I didn’t meet one other person like her either at Leicester or Warwick.

One of the problems is that you can think you’ve got past it and then it all comes back again. Around eighteen months into my obsession, I realised I was still bent out of shape by her when she and her boyfriend split. Her relationship afforded me a degree of stability and even happiness while it was still happening, and I know I was particularly happy at that time, though possibly because that stability was able to hide from me the fact that there was still something there. In the meantime I did attempt to kindle interest in other people, which didn’t go well, hoping that that would get me past her. The trouble is that it was forced and I was not generally considered attractive either in appearance or personality. I also took great and futile care to present my image as uninteresting and neutral, which is of course impossible. Neutral, that is. Boring is easy.

I should of course talk about stalking, which is one way in which this can go very badly indeed. Another aspect of stalking is that prevention focusses on what happens after the fact when it seems much more likely that it can be prevented more effectively by including some kind of emotional literacy training in the school curriculum, or ensuring that as a home edder that you have “the talk”. The types are: intimacy seeking, incompetent, predatory, rejected and resentful. I have actually been stalked by two different people that I know of in my life, so I don’t take it lightly.

Incompetent stalkers are usually motivated by lust and/or loneliness, and the problem arises because they are insensitive to their target’s emotions. It tends to happen with neurodiverse people or people with learning difficulties.

Intimacy seeking stalkers tend to be erotomanic, a subject I’ll return to. They are also lonely and are often motivated by delusional beliefs about their target. Clearly someone who is delusional is not going to say they are in the midst of everything, so if I was in this category this would amount to my perception that Vicky was attracted to me. However, I’d like to emphasise that I didn’t stalk her. In fact I tried to avoid her in the hope that my feelings would pass.

Rejected stalkers have usually been in an intimate relationship with their target (incidentally I’m using the word “target” because I don’t want to say “victim”). They will usually either seek to get back together with the person or want what they think of as revenge. I have never and would never do this.

Finally, predatory stalkers usually wish to indulge a non-consensual and probably violent paraphilia with their targets and the act of stalking is gratifying in itself. I would say this gives people with paraphilias a bad name, and it should be stressed that they are not something which you should ever accept shame about. The problem with these people is that they are excessively focussed on the kink itself at the expense of seeking intimacy or using it as a symbol of closeness in consensual sex.

A few pieces of advice about stalkers. If they are seeking to mend a relationship or become intimate, targets are advised to state clearly and unambiguously that they reject their attentions. This is at least as much for the target’s peace of mind as it is for the stalker’s sake. Having said that, I have also to say that it seems unlikely that that would work. However, it does stop the target from feeling guilty and blaming themselves later.

If you’re being harassed on the ‘phone by a stalker, another piece of police advice is to install a new ‘phone line and tell your friends the number while leaving an answerphone on the old one. This helps you to gather evidence against the perpetrator. However, it also sounds quite outdated in today’s world of social media and the like.

Due to my later obsession, I was widely regarded as persona non grata by my acquaintances. Although this is understandable, it didn’t help. The widespread attitude towards me in any case was one of disrespect and keeping me at an emotional distance. It’s been suggested that this situation isn’t even really about Vicky but about being in the social outer darkness. That said, I did have real friends too, so I’m not sure about that. But being in that darkness is not helpful because it was merely an opportunity to ruminate unhelpfully. What was missing in all of this was feedback. Then again, nobody owed me anything so I don’t know where that left me.

Erotomania is alleged to be a rare mental condition where someone is fixated on the idea that someone is secretly in love with them. For once I have professional backing for saying that this does not describe the situation I was in, as a psychiatrist looked into it for me. One of the perks of having started a degree in psychology. It’s a type of delusional disorder, which is what we used to call “paranoia” in the widespread inadequacy of psychiatric terminology where relatively useless and vague terms replace formerly quite accurate ones. The patient may not even know the person on whom they’re fixated, or they may be dead. Ian McEwan did an excellent job of describing someone with erotomania in his novel ‘Enduring Love’, in which he portrays an otherwise heterosexual non-religious person becoming convinced that God wants him and another man to be together. Although erotomania is more common in women, men are more likely to act on it. It can occur alone, with no other sign of psychopathology, or may be associated with psychosis of other kinds. It can be worsened by substance abuse, including alcohol, and antidepressants. Stalkers sometimes believe their target is stalking them. It also happens that Leicester Uni specialises in stalking research.

What may be missing from this account so far is how I felt about all this, and of course it’s also important what Vicky felt, but all I can really get from that is that she was very uncomfortable being in my company, but about a year later things seemed to be okay and we did sort of become friends again although she was said still to be nervous around me. Apart from anything else, it was annoying that the whole time I was an undergraduate I was basically tied up with an obsession with a woman, because it probably did have quite a negative impact with how well I enjoyed myself and performed in both academia and elsewhere. I tried really hard to put myself off Vicky, for instance by concentrating on the actions she undertook which made herself attractive to many people, but this didn’t work. The reason for this, I think, is that there comes a point where you cannot disentangle yourself because you have fallen in love with the image but stay in love with the person. I was frustrated and annoyed with myself because I couldn’t dislodge the obsession no matter how I tried. At no point after the initial incident did I consider the prospect of a relationship either realistic or desirable. My attraction to her was a problem to be solved, rather an intractable one. And the irony was that what I thought I was aiming for was being honest with myself that I did find that construction of stereotypical beauty attractive, but that it was a way of being less serious about the prospects of being in love.

I still don’t understand why she knew me for nearly a year without doing the “boyfriend mention”. It must’ve been obvious that I was attracted to her. I can think of a couple of reasons. One is that her man was constantly in the background of her life and had been for five years by that point, so their relationship was taken for granted. Another is that I was so far beneath her idea of anyone she might consider going out with that she didn’t consider it worth mentioning. Or, it may simply have been out of respect that she considered friendship with a man to be entirely feasible, and in fact I agree with that. The only trouble is, apparently she didn’t.

As I’ve said before, one long-term issue is that I long ago ceased to trust my intuition, which was telling me, despite all rational indications to the contrary, that she was in fact attracted to me. This assumes there is no “league” of course. This distrust of intuition has been mentioned since by some people, for instance my first girlfriend who was aware that I consciously chose to discount my intuitive insights, and this goes far beyond relationships. Another consequence was that just as I set the bar high for the idea of being in love, I also set it, well, infinitely high for the prospect of anyone being attracted to me in that way. This is quite a depressive thing to do. There’s also the issue that in a sense, initiating a relationship is a bit like applying for a job. That’s a horrible, soulless way of putting it, but it means that the analogy between ruling out the possibility of a relationship and ruling out the possibility of getting a “proper job” means that from that point onward the idea of successfully applying for one went out of the window. It’s also been said that the prospect of starting a relationship is the opposite of getting a job, which I have to say I don’t really understand. To me, it seems there’s a clear parallel between dating to see if you are compatible and going to a job interview to see if you’re a suitable potential employee. I also internalised the negative messaging people around me were giving me, making me feel worthless, irreparably damaged and a nasty person to be around, and that’s not a good attitude to have going into a job application. I’m also unaware of any of my strengths and weaknesses, which is probably also connected.

Now in theory I could get over that. However, as I age there are various consequences of having adopted that attitude long term which means that it’s now probably a self-fulfilling prophecy. There is basically a massive domino effect from this single misunderstanding, or whatever it was, from the age of eighteen, and no feedback is possible from it because Vicky and I haven’t been regularly in touch for thirty years. It probably isn’t even worth trying to fix, because the problems are now systemic in my life.

It is important not to over-estimate the influence of this experience on my life, because part of the key is probably not to be that person. It’s possible to get over all of this emotionally, and in fact I have, but I believe I can still see the consequences.

There is a more peculiar consequence of all this: I am not metaphysically naturalistic. Because I had the dream in 1983 which appears to predict me meeting her, and the “instructions” to go to a particular place at a particular time to encounter her and attempt to resolve the situation, I believe that there has to be something going on psychically under the surface. It could also be that if I did trust my intuition, I would have picked up on many examples of this happening. But it puts me in a fairly unpopular category of being a philosopher who believes in the supernatural. If I didn’t, I’d be ignoring those experiences. I don’t know what to make of them. For instance, it could be that this was just a spirit messing with my head for its own purposes or just for none, and even saying that makes me doubt my sanity. But one can be both sane and accept the existence of the supernatural. Because of these two incidents, it may have been harder for me to lose my Christian faith and it probably makes it more likely that I’d be theist. But I cannot for the life of me account for these incidents naturalistically and it seems perverse to do so.

Finally, I want to reassure you. I did eventually meet Sarada and we got married and had two children and have now been together for twenty-eight years. I am not by any means hung up on this person I haven’t seen for decades, which is quite fortunate for me as my work in the group demonstrated that many more people still are after many years. Anyone who knows us offline, and maybe even online, will be aware that we love each other deeply and are utterly committed. The Vicky incident hasn’t have long term effects in that way, but in other areas it has. The healthy thing is to get past this, but I still wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t met her. I strongly suspect there would either have been another “Vicky” or some other non-relationship issue which would have blighted my life in some other way. After all, I have the personality that I have, and maybe some things are just inevitable.

My Political Awakening

Up until 2002, every year seemed to bring something new in my life. My second year at university was no exception.

1986 was the last time I spent a protracted period of time in Canterbury. I came back from Leicester on 24th June and took a washing up and cleaning job at the local mental hospital, noting sadly that the cleaning services were now privatised and therefore that I’d be working for a private sector employer, which went very much against my principles. I lasted four days. I was unable to learn the layout of the hospital and made everything less efficient. I also joined the Green Party, thanks to Vicky posting their Canterbury address on the noticeboard of the Attenborough Bridge. I was quite depressed for most of that summer, feeling that most of my first year at university had been blighted thanks to the Christians and that I was never going to get that back. I was also worried that I would never have a romantic relationship. I also found myself rather worryingly developing feelings for an old school friend, but I didn’t tell anyone, including her, until they faded because I realised this was a kind of rebound from Vicky.

That autumn, of course, I went back to university and threw myself into social life and political activism. I joined the Green group, LEAF, which I was eventually to become co-chair of, and also the Hunt Sabs and the World Development Movement. I was nineteen at the time and aware of the phenomenon of rosy retrospection, which is where one looks back on one’s own past with unwarranted nostalgia. Therefore I decided to note consciously that I was happy at this point in my life, and again the question of unreliable memory is resolved. I got to know Vicky better and she recommended the ‘New Internationalist’ to me as a good source of information on progressive issues. I also went on a lot of demos and did various other things like campaigning for better vegetarian and vegan meals, watched a heck of a lot of films and gained a lot of new friends. I also decided to follow pacifism and became anarchist. In a sense I’m still anarchist. I also got involved with supporters of Greenpeace Leicester, Leicester Friends of the Earth, and the Nicaraguan Solidarity Campaign. Early on in the year, I got a fair degree of hassle from a Trotskyist group called the Revolutionary Communist Party and it was interesting to note both their dishonest dealing and the similarity between such groups and small Christian denominations who believe they alone are right. This planted the seeds of a long-term thought process which is still underway regarding small far left parties, so that too is rather seminal.

Academically, I did extremely well in my second year and was heading for a First. Nor was this at the cost of my social life. I also believed temporarily that I’d made my peace with the Vicky situation. As far as I was concerned, she was nothing more than a friend although I still occasionally pined after her. This wasn’t helped by the widely acknowledged fact that she and her partner in no way appeared to be emotionally close. It was an odd relationship which some people would probably put down to the fact that it was unusually durable for a couple of that age, since they’d been going steady since she was fourteen, having got together on her fourteenth birthday. My curiosity about their relationship led me to perform a Yi Ching (易經) divination which told me that they were 60-80% of the way through their relationship, which in fact turned out to be accurate. They were together for seven years and nine months, which is within a month of when the 易經 predicted they would split up. I have used this method three times in my life and don’t plan to do so ever again. However, it does indicate that I am not and have never been naturalistic, at least since I was about seven, and in an analytical philosophy department in the 20th century this is a difficult intellectual position to be in.

’86-’87 was also the year I began to engage majorly in consumer boycotts. Many people on the Left regard these as pointless because it doesn’t fix the system, and it’s also the case that it’s largely ineffectual and tinkers around the edges. However, taking it seriously enough it broadens out into what might be called a global boycott, which amounts to self-sufficiency – not being part of the problem. However, to be self-sufficient involves owning land, and in order to own land one either has to inherit it or to be sufficiently involved in the capitalist system to derive a large enough income to acquire that land, and in doing so one is either privileged as such or doing a substantial amount of damage to avoid doing more damage in the long term. All of these things are very difficult. To some extent boycotts are about assuaging one’s feelings of guilt and powerlessness. Having said that, I’m not about to go out and buy a jar of Nescafé. This is a process which began in my second year at university.

There was also hunt sabbing, something which at one stage I was doing every week and didn’t end for good until the year after I graduated. I always had issues with this. I can see the emotional value of wanting to save foxes’ lives, and I also understand that it’s substantially class-based, but that’s what makes me uncomfortable. It’s important to recognise that there is class conflict and that countless people’s lives are blighted and even ended by that, but the symbolism of nobility and royalty being overprivileged has never been something I’ve strongly bought into. I would also say that the way we sabbed in Leicester in the mid-’80s was not aggressive, as we were quite strongly influenced by a pacifistic tendency in our group. The aggression came later and I was never comfortable with it. But in practical terms, this is the example which always occurred to me. I might go out with a van of people and sab a hunt, perhaps saving two foxes. I can’t imagine that we’d save any more. That might be eight people achieving that. On the other hand, I could staff the animal rights stall in the city centre and the two people on that might persuade one twenty year old to go vegetarian and ultimately vegan for the next sixty years, thereby saving thousands of lives. I don’t think there’s any utilitarian argument for sabbing as opposed to doing the animal rights stall. Incidentally, it’s also possible to sab anglers, but people rarely do that because it’s a more working-class form of animal abuse.

I went vegan in October ’87 as a natural progression from vegetarianism, which I’d always planned.

My second year at university probably marked the biggest shift in my life towards political activism I undertook. It was a peak in my social life. The situation with Vicky was stable. However, I also found that I was developing crushes on people, or rather that I was kind of uninformèdly stabbing in the dark at what were conceivably sexual relationships, because at the time I was trying to prove to myself that I was a man. I also began to feel very strong urges, though non-sexual, to wear feminine clothes, which I was to resist for the next four or five years. A major influence on me at the time was Janice Raymond’s ‘The Transsexual Empire’, which I’d read in summer 1986 and completely accepted, which put paid to any ideas I’d had about transitioning male to female. This probably contributed to my depression that summer, as I was feeling very boxed in by things. I then did something rather embarrassing. There was another woman in my year whom I perceived to conform to conventional notions of attractiveness and found I was becoming once again fixated on. Therefore, I rather creepily sent her a note telling her that I “loved” her but reassured her that I would do nothing about it, because by this point I had become very pessimistic about the prospect of a relationship happening at all in my life. She just generally seemed very angry with me for a long time, and this continued while she spent a year in Germany and was eventually more friendly when she returned. Sarada and I have very different interpretations of this incident. Mine is that she found this unwelcome, intrusive and insulting, but Sarada’s is that it annoyed her that I’d kind of “pre-broken up” with her. I perceive Sarada’s interpretation as excessively optimistic, and since I was there at the time and wouldn’t meet her for over a thousand days, I believe my version is the correct one.

One of the problems with what I can only really describe as the Vicky catastrophe is that it led me to distrust my intuition. It didn’t seem like wishful thinking that she was attracted to me, and that clearly had major influences on my future attitude towards relationships and also spilt over to all sorts of other areas, with the result that one of the long-term consequences has nothing to do with sex and relationships at all but is more to do with a general distrust of my own judgement.

There was great stability in the second year, and also a lot of happiness. One significant event was the 1987 General Election, which of course the Conservatives won, but I had expected nothing else. This depressed a lot of my friends but for me it was just to be expected. I was remarkably positive about many things at the time. A couple of significant events were the organisation of a Greenpeace benefit rock concert on Victoria Park and the sponsored walk on Abbey Park, again to raise money for Greenpeace. It began to bother me that we couldn’t engage in direct action under the Greenpeace banner, and we were criticised for using the Greenpeace banner (literally) on a march in London. My irritation with the organisation grew during this period. I was doing a lot with Vicky at the time and used to frequent her flat, which she shared with her man. It was of course familiar to me because of the dream. Every time I mention this it sounds insane, but what happened happened.

Early on in the year I took some careers advice. It didn’t look promising, mainly because they were very oriented towards working for multinationals or the Civil Service, neither of which I had any interest in doing. I breezed through the part 1 exams and began work on my dissertation. I actually underperformed on this in the long run because of what was about to happen.

In the final year, everyone went mad, basically. There was a lot of stress emanating from the fact that we were all going to have to graduate and move on, get jobs and so forth, or possibly become long term unemployed. This was not, however, my plan. I was heading for a First and planned to do an MPhil followed by a doctorate, and then become an academic, at another university because the department at Leicester was merging with Nottingham apart from the Logic and Scientific Method component which was to become part of Computing. I think this experience of extreme stress in the final year is quite common. A couple of my friends considered killing themselves and one of them actually attempted it, but survived for the time being. There were also a lot of parties and clubbing. I also joined the Labour Party.

In January ’88, everything came unstuck for me. I was clubbing with my friends and met Vicky’s partner, who was there with another woman. After a couple of days of emotional crisis, some friends decided we had to tell her, which we did and they then split up. The problem was that while they’d been together, my interest in her was contained and under control, but I was aware that there was no chance of us becoming an item. Because I wanted to make this certain, I manipulated her best friend into doing a character assassination on me which would put paid to any possibility. All of this was rather distracting and resulted in poor concentration on my studies and a rather disappointing dissertation which was seen as well below my usual standards. Also, one of my friends was killed in a hit and run accident. After some thought and discussion, I decided to take a year out after graduation to decide whether to do postgraduate or not, the issue being whether to go into political activism full-time as part of a pressure group or political party, which would directly influence politics (possibly), or to work on theory behind it by doing postgraduate work and becoming an academic. By that time, I had met my first girlfriend but we were not together yet. That didn’t happen until after my time at Leicester Uni. I also had a one-night stand, but my heart wasn’t in it because I was still completely obsessed with Vicky and worried about her well-being. Consequently I didn’t get a First but a 2i, and that may look like a success to someone else, but as so often before I had seriously fallen short and failed to do myself justice. Somewhere in all that I went on a kind of date with a woman who turned out to be a lesbian, but never followed it up.

Then the academic year ended, I toured Europe with a couple of school friends and I returned to Leicester to graduate, and found that one of my friends ostracised me because of what I understood to be an innocent postcard I’d sent her from Rome – we never spoke again – and another just cut me out in spite of previous closeness. I took a year out and went to Warwick to study the MA in continental philosophy.

What about those three years marked me in the long term then?

My first year was wasted. I effectively spent two rather than three years at university in terms of activism and social life and for a long time afterwards I was trying to compensate for what I’d missed. It was several years before I finally let go of university due to what felt like missing out. I just am a philosopher. It’s an important part of who I am and in that sense I was able to be myself to a much greater extent, particularly in my second year, than at any other time. Politically there was an awakening around the age of nineteen. I became Christian and in a sense have persisted with that, even though the circumstances involved emotional manipulation. I learned to live in the outside world in a gradually phased process which nowadays many young adults seem to miss out on. Owing to the complications with Vicky, I ceased to trust my intuition and my first relationship was highly unsatisfactory for both of us. I began to move into a kind of political career which, however, never got past volunteering although a few months later I was offered a job working for an anti-fluoridation pressure group which I turned down because I couldn’t convince myself it was a significant health problem (although it clearly is a civil liberties issue). I went vegetarian and then vegan.

My interest in furthering any kind of career was rather stymied by the deep ethical problems I perceived with almost any paid work and by the fact that I continued to be preoccupied with my failure to have a sexual relationship. This has had a long-term effect on my prospects from which in financial terms I never really recovered. I became very attached to Leicester, and only moved away from there recently to care for my father.

That’s it really. It feels a bit truncated as all sorts of things happened soon afterwards which are worth mentioning, but my main aim in writing this is to attempt to trace long term influences from my time as an undergraduate.

Anyone care to compare notes?

Love And Other Gods

During my time at Warwick Uni, which I always think of as in Coventry, one of my more notable acquaintances (that’s a significant word) was Michael Nangla. He was a fellow student on the MA in continental philosophy, ethnically Punjabi and from Leeds. One of the most striking things about him was his seriousness. A mutual friend once said of him, and this is not a criticism, that it was impossible to have a superficial conversation with him.

I never really dove into life in Coventry. I didn’t live there, I became rather disillusioned with the philosophy department there and academic philosophy generally, mainly from a political perspective. It felt devoid of spirituality and seemed to be more about giving excuses for the way society was rather than trying to address the injustice. In particular, nobody seemed to care much about veganism or animal liberation. But there were other issues. I managed to organise everything on the same day of the week, when I took the first train there and got the last train back, I spent nine months only on the whole course and didn’t really get to know anyone. I was also rather owerawed by most of the people I met. There was hardly any social side for me, most people seemed to take about twice as long as I did to complete the course, a luxury I didn’t have due to lack of money, and I didn’t really get to know anyone. Probably the students I got to know best, and even that wasn’t very well, were Antonia, Anthony (only just realised that’s practically the same name) and of course Michael. I’m not going to pretend I knew Michael at all well, but I did know him enough to have a meaningful conversation with him. It was, as has been said, impractical to have any other kind.

The reason he comes up now is that I’ve just finished reading his excellent, recently published, book, ‘Love And Other Gods: Adventures Through Psychosis’, described as “a brutally honest account of being bipolar”. He’s certainly succeeded in striking a chord in me with his writing, and this is substantially down to his own personality, honesty, openness and diligence in what he wrote, but it’s also to do with the fact that we did vaguely associate with each other for about a year in 1989-90, and being my contemporary and moreover someone who opted to follow the same academic course as I did, we have certain things in common. We were at about the same stage in life when we were there as well as being the same age, and in particular our romantic sensibilities seem to have been rather similar, which is not at all surprising.

Before I go on, I want to do two things. One is to link to somewhere you can buy his book here, and if you can, please do because it’s great. The other is to mention the other blog post on here which talks about my experience of Warwick Uni, here, which is about Nick Land.

Michael starts by being very tough on himself. In the Prologue, he states:

By most accounts, I have failed in my life. I have no job. My mental ill health seems to have confined me to a life of forced indolence. But it’s my choice to reject a world that is fake.

I don’t think of him in any way as a failure. In fact, given his difficulties I feel quite badly about how poorly I could see myself as having done in my own life. Unlike me, he’s worked full time for Radio 4 and managed to hold down a job in London for several years. By some freak happenstance, I have managed neither to be sectioned nor diagnosed with anything now recognised as a mental health problem although, as I’ve said before, I’d be astonished if I wasn’t diagnosable as depressive. In spite of his difficulties, Michael has done a heck of a lot with his life and I feel the same way about many of the people who passed through Warwick Uni philosophy department back then. Comparisons are of course odious. But this isn’t just about me, but him. A major difference between us is of course our ethnicity, and the cultural background that happens to have accompanied his informs his perspective on his experiences considerably.

I have a rather amorphous collection of thoughts on Michael’s book before me which I may not even try to pull into some sort of order, and he’s coaxed me into asking questions about my own life back then. A major issue for him seems to have been that intense feelings of love and grief tend to overwhelm him and push him into an emotional place which he can’t really get back from without help. In writing this, I’m aware of how willing he has been to express his feelings, and I’m aware that I should try to adopt some degree of sensitivity in responding to them.

I don’t figure at all in the book so far as I can tell, which is hardly surprising since we’re mere bit players in each other’s dramas, substantially due to my aloofness from the university. I feel a sense of regret that I didn’t get to know him better at the time, but then I wouldn’t have relished having to be party in having him sectioned, which is what his friends eventually felt they had no choice but to do. One aspect of psychosis is that it never seems to be foreign to someone’s personality but very much a development of it, and if you go in the direction where your road would take you untrammeled, sometimes you simply will end up being fitted into a professional’s diagnosis of a psychotic condition of some kind. It absolutely is not stepping off the path for most people. It’s where you are led to by the way you and your life are. He has expressed this better than I. I was reminded of Nietzsche, and Nick Land saying that you couldn’t take what he said after a certain point seriously because of his psychosis. This has always seemed to be utterly wrong to me. You have to follow someone into their psychosis to understand them. It isn’t usually something which has just collided with them and caused trauma whose damage is a reaction to a foreign body by a broken brain. Unless you embrace Nietzsche’s madness and take it on board as a serious perspective on life, you may as well not read him. He rightly aims to stir you up and change everything about you. Michael does the same.

I want to describe my immediate trajectory across Michael’s life in a way that’s illuminated by his own writing. As an undergraduate, as is well-known, I became utterly fixated on another student who was unavailable because she was already in a relationship which had lasted a third of her life by the time I met her. Despite struggling to forget her, this failed completely and I did everything I could think of to purge her from my mind. Around two years into this, I also went vegan and over the following eighteen months I gradually developed a B12 deficiency which involved a mild and I might say boring psychosis. In early 1989, at the age of twenty-one, I finally began a sexual relationship with someone which wasn’t good for either of us and caused me a lot of unhappiness and stress. She persuaded me to study the MA at Warwick and because I wanted to maintain my relationship with her I turned down the possibility of a lecturing job at Stirling University and postponed moving to Glasgow, and also stayed in Leicester in order to be with her, hence my lack of engagement at Warwick. Warwick was, as I said, rather disillusioning. Towards the end of my time there, I split up with my partner but we remained close friends. As my MA approached its end, Saddam Hussein invaded Iraq and took some British people hostage. This escalated into the first Gulf War, and I was traumatised and disgusted by the supportive response of the British public which made me feel that we’d made no progress since 1914, the rhetoric of the mass media being very similar. This was how I got involved in the Peace Movement, particularly CND, which continued into the 2010s. At the same time, I was impressed by the spiritual and philosophical aspects of peace activism compared to the sometimes rather mechanical and impersonal approach of left wing radical politics, though not usually the Green movement. I came to see the cause of the Gulf War as ultimately and substantially to do with toxic masculinity and the patriarchy, as well as mature capitalism, and for that reason partly I decided to kind of come out as gender dysphoric, as a way of turning my back on masculinity, and went by the name of Ruth for a couple of years. I had one more relationship, which wasn’t serious enough for me, and a couple of years later Sarada and I married and had children, before I decided to train as a herbalist. There is a sense in which my response to the Gulf War situation was a breakdown, or at least a major adjustment, but paradoxically 1991 was also the happiest year of my life up until that point because I was single and not looking, and not interested in sex or a relationship.

That’s one way of describing the narrative that leans towards Michael’s experience. I probably wouldn’t have described it that way if I hadn’t just read his book. It does of course cover some near-universal themes in people’s lives at that age and period of history, and is probably somewhat more like Michael’s life due to the fact that various things led us in the same direction regarding our academic studies.

Michael’s own romantic experience at that early age was with a woman he calls Anarkali. I presume he has changed her name, although he does name Anthony accurately. He admired Anarkali from afar and, after his time at Warwick, got together with her, but was so overcome by the intensity of his passion for her that he tipped over into a psychotic episode and his friends, including Anarkali herself, had him sectioned. I was above all else shocked by her coldness towards him after this happened. She attributed his response to egoism and was absolutely brutal in her reaction. I would accept that his mental health was not her responsibility because she wasn’t to know how extreme her effect on him would be, but as a significant person to him, as he was to her, I still believe she owed him more than that. I think this is partly out of fear, and I’ve seen it a lot in people confronted with other’s mental health issues. They have the precious territory of their own sanity, or what they see as that, and they draw a firm line around it to avoid being pulled in by the other person. And this is a real danger: folie à deux is a thing. But it wasn’t like she didn’t return his feelings at all. He wasn’t her stalker. And of course I’ve been there too. It occurs to me that if by some fluke the woman I became obsessed with as an undergraduate had responded positively, it could have pushed me too far in that direction as well. Maybe I should count my blessings. But this is the same kind of coldness as I experienced from her, and also from some of my friends when I graduated, sometimes for baffling reasons.

In a way, and I think he acknowledges this, Michael was fortunate still to have been in a mental hospital when the first Gulf War began. He was fairly insulated from the belligerence and jingoism of the atmosphere in this country at the time, and perhaps his medication would have helped with that. But when the world goes “mad” in the way it did here in 1991, what’s the sane reaction? Are you just supposed to acquiesce to the bloodlust and orgy of hatred? Nonetheless, I’m happy that he was shielded from it because it was a deeply traumatic experience that made me feel very hostile towards most of the people I came across in the street. I didn’t behave in an aggressive manner at all towards them, because that would perpetuate the cycle, but it was very hard to keep a lid on things. The BBC in particular didn’t help with their 24-hour so-called “news” coverage of the war. And to me at the time, and for long afterwards, it really was “The War”, just like the Second World War had been capitalised, because it seemed so significant. I could easily spiral down into something at this point too, so I choose to drop it. Nonetheless, Michael was blessed by not witnessing that, though not by the conditions in the hospital.

While in Whitchurch Mental Hospital, he met a guy called David with whom he stayed close for the rest of David’s life. The name is significant to me because I also had a friend called David, who had AIDS, was gay and died young. In Michael’s friend’s case, it was by his own hand, and I suppose one bright light in that is that AIDS as such didn’t “win”, though it’s only a faint glimmer.

The philosophy department at Warwick had a highly secular atmosphere. There was one openly theist professor there, Roger Trigg, who was Roman Catholic. Students used to take the mickey out of him for what they saw as shoehorning religious themes into every seminar and tutorial he was involved in, but that’s just intellectual honesty to me. If your spirituality includes religious beliefs, how can you not include that in your work with students? It was always in the spirit of open discussion. Apart from Roger, however, there was actually not a secular atmosphere come to think of it, but an atmosphere where the assumption was that religious beliefs belonged in the Kindergarten of human history and we’d all outgrown that. That is not in fact secular, as that involves giving equal weight to all schools of thought. Nor was this attitude confined to religion. When my partner brought up the question of animal rights in a meeting, one of the people responded with an anecdote beginning “While we’re on this level . . .”, with the implicit assumption that compassion for other species was once again an immature and anti-intellectual concern which “we” had all outgrown. As I’ve said before, one of the flaws of the English language is that it lacks a distinction between inclusive and exclusive “we”. I wonder what pronoun would’ve been used on that occasion if we had that feature.

I have a history of being religious, which came to the fore in 1985 during my first year at university. I kept it fairly quiet for most of my time there and at Warwick it was almost entirely eclipsed, but I noticed that Michael comes across in his book as a lot more religious than I ever noticed him being while reading for the MA, and it occurs to me that there may have been considerable inauthenticity from many of us students. He was religious, I was religious, but it was the sensibility that dare not speak its name. And considering that we were, among other things, studying existentialists, authenticity was a major issue on the MA. There’s a degree of hypocrisy here which is likely to have hampered free discussion and thought on these matters, and perhaps across the board. I don’t hold anyone responsible for it, but how could the department have been more “real” in this respect? How did it manage to lose this and what were we really doing? Philosophy of all things needs to be taken seriously and engaged with holistically. It shouldn’t be an act or a performance, except to the extent that everything is.

Syncretism is an issue for me in approaching his life experience. I can’t work out if his awareness of the significance of all sorts of faith traditions is part of him being a Sikh, connected to his South Asian background or related to his mental health. Perhaps these divisions are irrelevant or even racist on my part, but the reason I wonder is that we have known another Sikh who was bipolar, sectioned and unfortunately ended his own life. Then again, clusters are a feature of randomness so I think this probably is pure racism on my part. Michael, I can only apologise. Just on the subject of racism, another student following the MA course at the same time, which was of course mainly White, was Antonia, and I have recently wondered whether they could’ve bonded over that because she was also ethnic minority.

Another issue raised for us during the course was the question of the Look, Sartre’s account of the acceptance of the existence of other minds as it would be put in analytical philosophy. Sartre asks one to imagine spying on someone through a keyhole at the end of a corridor when one hears footsteps behind one, and we experience guilt, making one an object for others. This is clearly related to Sartre’s view that Hell is other people. I took three main approaches to this. One was to attempt to extend it to other species, particularly cats. Another was to relate it to other sensory modalities such as hearing and touch, to see how it altered it. Christine Battersby, our tutor, said she couldn’t relate to what I said about other species and this was one of the crucial exchanges which was ultimately to lead to my disillusionment with much of continental philosophy because it felt more like a brush off, that she would never take the idea of non-human sentience seriously or give it any serious thought and subsumed that to feminism, when they were in fact part of the same struggle. There’s also an element of ableism in the assumption made by the spy that they were seen, because they don’t know the person approaching is not blind, hence the emphasis on sensory modalities. Michael managed to engage more successfully with the discussion by contrasting guilt and shame, although I can’t remember where he went with that. What I can remember is that he stated quite emphatically that his cultural background was based on shame rather than guilt, and this came to mind in something his friend David said: “There is nothing to be afraid of except your own shame and guilt”. It made me wonder how this contrast between the two would influence the experience and construction of mental illness in South Asia.

Michael was told that he could expect to be on medication for at least the next two decades. This for him would mean the numbing of his senses and walling off of life as it is experienced in the raw for the sake of avoiding another psychotic episode, and that was a price too high to pay. I got the impression that some of his family members felt that having had a psychotic episode had put him beyond the point where they could expect anything positive from him that would fulfil their expectations and hopes projected onto him, which actually reminds me of when children come out as gay and are rejected by their family, possibly out of shame, and there’s that word again, and also because their expectations that they would live a life with which they would be able to empathise easily and have grandchildren would be frustrated at that point. Both of those things are about wanting your children to be forced to live for others alone, and we’re back to Sartre’s Look. Although I dislike Sartre’s view, I can see its relevance here.

Nearly all of the long-term patients of his acquaintance at Whitchurch he perceived as having had contact with God. In some cases, they actually believed they were God in a different sense to how others are. As a result of this sensitivity and openness to spiritual meaning, these people “are disenfranchised and possess rights only to a rudimentary life”, because civil society as it stands in urban Wales does not have a place for this experience. This is more an indictment on life in Britain and the West than anything else. It therefore makes perfect sense that Michael’s next step was to spend some time with a healer in India. He discontinued his medication. That sentence might lead one to expect a steady spiral towards catastrophe, but the fact is that this absolutely did not happen. Three months after stopping his haloperidol, he still seemed fine and this was in no small measure due to the respect his healer in India had for his experience which had been classed as psychotic by the NHS. Indian mythology recognises the madness brought on by passionate love and limerence. As he says, the power of the imagination must be applied to the world to ensure that it does not dissolve. To a geologist, the Himalayas are simply two continents ploughing into each other and raising a range of mountains. To a Hindu they have spiritual import, and relating this to existentialism I am of course going to say that they have meaning – significance. It’s like the notion of the sublime in Romanticism, which also approached mountains as important rather than just interesting.

The scars of former love were still there. Of Anarkali, he says he “was stricken with self-contempt and fury at being a nobody for her”, a sentiment I can closely relate to. I was nothing, so far as I could tell, to the woman I fell for during my first degree, and I’m impressed with how clearly Michael has managed to express this feeling. I suppose, and this is my take, not explicitly his, Anarkali’s attitude towards him is like a geologist’s attitude towards the Himalayas as opposed to a non-geologist Hindu. I am caricaturing geologists here, but bear with me. He wanted to be sublime to Anarkali, and he wanted her to turn her face to him and see him in all his inconvenient but beautiful detail, but perhaps out of fear or her own scars, she had decided to turn away.

On returning to England, he became a producer and journalist for Radio 4. His perceived seriousness made it hard for him to integrate into social life with his coworkers. I recognise this Michael from the time I knew him, and it shows how his personality survived the onslaught of the British mental health care system. It seems that his time in India nurtured the person he really is. He felt strongly, and as an outsider I completely agree, that there was relatively little integrity in the journalism pursued by the BBC. He then met his future wife, a Kurd, in a cinema. By this point he hadn’t taken antipsychotic medication for ten years. Unfortunately, this was about the point at which the second Gulf War began, and this time he wasn’t cushioned from it by being on haloperidol or lithium in a psychiatric ward. He had no asylum. During the Gulf War demo of 2003, it seems that his perception of reality becomes much more vivid and dreamlike. At this point it was impressed upon me that I can imagine a psychiatrist looking at his medical history and attributing his psychotic break to Cannabis use while ignoring the fact that the country was pursuing an illegal war at Blair’s behest, and that if criminalising the herb is justified on the basis of potentially triggering psychosis in some, then not pursuing that war and many others, such as the “war against terrorism”, was a much more important measure to take to protect the mental health of the British public, entirely aside from its wider morality for the people dying there. But of course that doesn’t happen, and Cannabis remains illegal while our governments continue to send young, impressionable people to murder and be injured, traumatised and killed thousands of kilometres away.

I feel now that I’ve said enough for today on the book, but I’ll continue tomorrow.