mind-tunnelling, it was ascertained that, subconsciously, he did know
exactly when his bashfulness began, and also was well aware of its cause.
From among the forgotten, or only vaguely remembered, episodes of his
boyhood there emerged, with exceptional vividness, a memory-picture of the
time when he first went to work. He recalled with painful intensity the
figure of his employer, a stern, cold, hard man, with piercing eyes.
"Those eyes seemed to be on me everywhere I went. They seemed to be
watching for the least mistake I might make. I began to wonder what would
happen to me if I did make mistakes. Then I began to feel incompetent and
to fear that he would notice my incompetency. I grew nervous, awkward,
timid. Whenever he spoke to me, I jumped, I blushed, I trembled. After a
time I did the same when anybody spoke to me."
"And sometimes you still think of that first employer who frightened you
so much?"
"I try not to, but I know I do."
To the neurologist the cause of his patient's bashfulness was now evident.
The fear, the anxiety, the over-conscientiousness engendered by the
employer's attitude, working in the mind of an ultra-impressionable boy,
were quite enough to initiate a habit of abnormal diffidence. Tactfully,
the physician made this clear to the patient; earnestly he impressed on
him the idea that the unpleasant experience of which he spoke was a thing
of the past, and was nothing of which he now need stand in dread; and
tirelessly he reiterated the suggestion that the patient had it in his
own power to exorcise the demon of bashfulness created by the painful
subconscious memory-image of those early days. In the end he had the
satisfaction of sending him on his way rejoicing in a perfect cure.
Strikingly different in its inception is a case that came under the
observation of Doctor Bechterew. In this instance the patient was a young
woman of excellent family and most attractive appearance. The symptom
of which she chiefly complained was an abnormal blushing. When with the
members of her own family, no less than with strangers, she would, at
the least provocation, feel the blood suffusing her face and would turn
distressingly red. To avoid this, she kept much to herself, and led a
lonely, miserable life.
Questioned by Doctor Bechterew as to the length of time she had been thus
afflicted, and any prior occurrences which might have given her a real and
urgent reason for embarrassment and blushing, her answers at first were
wholly unenlightening. But little by little, probing with the skill of the
trained psychological cross-examiner, he drew from her the details of a
pathetic experience.
At the age of seventeen, it appeared, she had been thrown much into the
company of a married man old enough to be her father. A friendship had
sprung up between them, but, on her part, there had certainly been no
thought of anything beyond friendship, until one evening at a garden party
he asked her to walk with him in a secluded part of the grounds.
"While we were talking together," she confided to Doctor Bechterew, "he
suddenly asked me if I cared for him--if I cared enough to leave home
and spend the rest of my life with him. His avowal of love shocked and
shamed me. I hastily left him and, with burning cheeks, rejoined the other
guests.
"As soon as possible, I made my excuses and went home. It seemed to me
that my face betrayed my secret. Afterwards I could not speak to or even
think of that man without blushing. Now that you have made me recall
the circumstance, I feel sure that out of that terrible experience has
gradually been developed the habit of bashfulness and blushing which has
made life almost unbearable to me."
Contrast with this a third case: the case of a young Jew, robust and
alert-looking, a wagon driver by occupation, who applied to the Vanderbilt
Clinic in New York City to be treated for what he vaguely termed a
"nervous trouble." Referred to Doctor A. A. Brill, already mentioned as a
specialist in nervous disorders, he confessed that the malady for which he
sought relief was nothing more or less than bashfulness.
"It may seem strange to you," said he, "that a fellow like me should be
bashful, but I am so timid when with strangers that I scarcely know what
I am doing. I speak and act like a fool; my hands tremble; I trip over
things."
"Can you give any reason why you should feel so awkward and embarrassed?"
"Not the slightest. I often have tried to explain it to myself, but all to
no purpose. As far as I can tell, it is without a cause."
"Still, it must have a cause, and we will do our best to discover what
that is."
Step by step, in the course of several days' investigation by
psychoanalysis, Doctor Brill led the patient through the details of his
past life. In this way it was definitely ascertained that the bashfulness
of which he complained dated from his twelfth year. Delving among the
forgotten memories of that early period, Doctor Brill presently unearthed
one which the patient, the moment he recalled it, recognised as being
coincidental with the beginning of the excessive timidity that had brought
him such suffering.
It was the memory of a boyhood escapade that had at the time caused
unusual remorse, shame, and fear of discovery. He had fancied that
others could read in his eyes what he had done; he became afraid to
look at people or to have them look at him. Awkwardness, embarrassment,
bashfulness grew apace, and remained characteristic of him even after he
had forgotten all about the affair from which they sprang.
Thanks, however, to the recovery of this lost memory-image, and of other
subconscious reminiscences which had intensified the feeling of shame, it
was now possible for Doctor Brill to institute psychotherapeutic treatment
that eventually resulted in a cure. Incidentally, it also resulted in
materially improving the young man's position in life. Freed from his
bashfulness, he developed unexpected ambition, and eventually became the
owner of a well-paying business.
Similarly, boyhood weaknesses and failings, carrying with them profound
feelings of shame and apprehension, were found responsible for the
bashfulness experienced by Doctor Hartenberg's dish-washing patient and
Doctor Bechterew's visitor with the black spectacles.
Always, in truth, the story seems to be the same: there has been in the
chronically bashful man's early life some specific shock, fright, or
anxiety, which, provoking in a supersensitive mind feelings of extreme
embarrassment, has established a bashfulness that may not fully yield to
any method of treatment until the remote and usually forgotten cause is
recalled to remembrance.
Happily, this requirement is not always necessary. As an eminent medical
psychologist once said to me:
"It is my experience that, in many cases, a cure can be brought about
simply by developing the patient's will power, either through suggestion
in hypnosis, or through psychic re-education in the normal waking
state. In such instances, it is enough to explain to the patient that
his bashfulness undoubtedly had its origin in some shock which he has
forgotten; that while, in the beginning, he may have had reason enough for
feeling bashful, that reason has long since been outlived; and that his
present bashfulness is actually nothing more than a bad habit, the result
of self-suggestion.
"Attacking the problem this way and applying strong counter-suggestion,
it frequently is possible to effect a cure without a tedious preliminary
ransacking of subconscious memories. When, however, this method fails,
psychoanalytic investigation becomes indispensable."
Manifestly of even greater importance than the cure of bashfulness is
its prevention. This, on any theory of its causation, and especially on
the view here advanced, is primarily a matter resting with parents. The
appearance in a growing boy or girl of symptoms of habitual uneasiness
and embarrassment when with other children or older persons should be
regarded as a reason for real anxiety. Actually, however, as in the case
of children who show extreme or persistent jealousy, most parents are
inclined to dismiss such symptoms from their minds with the careless
remark, "Yes, he's bashful; but that's nothing. He'll outgrow it."
Unfortunately, he may not outgrow it without definite aid and guidance.
For one thing, the effort should immediately be made to develop in him
interests, whether scholastic or athletic--preferably both--that will
take him out of himself. Whatever else may be said of bashfulness, it is
always, like selfishness, a sign of excessive preoccupation, conscious
or unconscious, with thoughts of self. The bashful boy, no less than
the bashful man, is abnormally self-centred. And, besides endeavouring
to weaken his extreme egoism, there should be a systematic attempt to
cultivate self-control and self-reliance; while, at the same time, his
confidence should be tactfully sought, to draw from him a statement as to
anything that is particularly perplexing or worrying him, and thereby to
gain a vantage point for effectually banishing doubt and anxiety from his
mind.
To banish doubt and anxiety from his mind! I am put in remembrance of
another serious life handicap, allied to bashfulness in having as a basic
element lack of self-reliance and self-confidence, and, like bashfulness,
originating in childhood experiences. This handicap is the habit of futile
doubting and reasoning, whether about matters of importance or matters of
no importance. In some people the habit of futile doubting is so extreme
as to amount to a veritable disease. Again, let me make use of an instance
from real life to bring out concretely the condition I have in mind.
To a neurologist in the city of Washington there came a man thirty years
of age. There was nothing in his appearance to set him apart from other
people. He was intelligent-looking, well dressed, well mannered, and he
did not seem at all out of health. But this, in effect, is what he said to
the neurologist:
"Doctor, I have come to you as a last resort, and if you cannot help me I
do not know what I shall do. I am mentally all in pieces. My mind is so
weak that I cannot even decide what clothes I ought to put on.
"My indecision shows itself the moment I awake in the morning. I start
to get up; then it occurs to me that perhaps I ought not to get up
immediately. So I lie down again, wondering just what I ought to do. I
am beset by doubts. Not until somebody enters my room and insists on my
rising can I bring myself to do so.
"At once a terrible conflict begins within me as to the clothes I should
wear. Every article of my clothing has to be carefully considered. It is
as if a vital problem had to be solved. Sometimes, after I am dressed, the
thought strikes me that my underwear may be too light, or too heavy, or
that something else is the matter with it.
"Then I have to undress and put on fresh underwear, which I minutely
inspect. Or, perhaps, it is my shirt that troubles me, or the pattern of
my neck-tie, or the suit I have put on.
"Always I fear that I have made a mistake in some way. Dressing
consequently becomes an endless process to me. Even with help--and I
nearly always have to be helped--it is two or three hours before I am
finally dressed."
Consider also the case of a morbid doubter who was successfully treated
by that well-known New England medical psychologist, Doctor Boris
Sidis. In this case, doubting was only one of several disease symptoms.
Here, somewhat abridged, is Doctor Sidis's own account of his patient's
indulgence in trivial doubts:
"The patient is troubled by a form of _folie de doute_. He is not sure
that the addresses on his letters are correctly written; and, no matter
how many times he may read them over, he cannot feel assured that the
addresses are correct. Some one else must read them and assure him that
they are addressed correctly.
"When he has to write many letters, sometimes a sudden fear gets
possession of him that he has interchanged the letters and put them into
the wrong envelopes. He has then to tear open the envelopes and look the
letters over again and again, to assure himself that they have been put
by him into the right envelopes.
"Similarly, in turning out the gas jet, he must needs try it over again
and again, and is often forced to get up from bed to try again whether the
gas is 'really' shut off. He lights the gas, then tests the gas jet with
a lighted match, to see whether the gas leaks and is 'really' completely
shut off.
"In closing the door of his room, he must try the lock over and over
again. He locks the door, and then unlocks it again, then locks it once
more. Still, he is not sure. He then must shake it violently, so as to
get the full assurance that the door has been actually and 'really'
locked."[11]
This second illustrative instance brings out vividly a fact that deserves
to be emphasised--the fact, namely, that, at bottom, these doubting manias
are only exaggerations of a phenomenon of common occurrence. There are
times when virtually everybody is tormented by doubts regarding matters
that ought not to cause any indecision or perplexity. Moreover, while
comparatively few people feel the need of going to a physician to be cured
of abnormal doubting, there are many others who might advantageously seek
the specialist's aid. People are often blind to their great weakness in
this respect, though their friends may see clearly that their vacillation
with regard to things great or small constitutes a defect that of itself
accounts amply for their inability to make headway in the world and rise
above mediocrity.
Like the Washington neurologist's patient, if in less degree, there are
people to whom the choice of clothing presents a prodigious problem. To
others, the choice of foods is a never-ending puzzle. At every meal they
find themselves sadly at a loss to decide what they shall eat. Others,
again, acting in much the fashion of the young man treated by Doctor
Sidis, conjure up visions of possible mistakes and mishaps in connection
with the writing and mailing of letters, the opening or shutting of doors
and windows, the carrying of umbrellas, etc. Also, there are doubters of
a kind well described by an observant physician:
"There are people who doubt whether their friends really think anything
of them. They think that, though they treat them courteously, this may
be only common politeness, and that they may really resent their wasting
their time when they call on them. They hesitate to ask these people to
do things for them, though, over and over again, the friends may have
shown their willingness, and, above all, by asking favours of them in
turn, may have shown that they were quite willing to put themselves under
obligations.
"They doubt about their charities. They wonder whether they may really not
be doing more harm than good, though they have investigated the cases,
or have had them investigated, and the objects of their charity may have
been proved to be quite deserving. They hesitate about the acquisition
of new friends, and doubt whether they should give them any confidence,
and whether the confidences they have received from them are not really
baits."[12]
Here, decidedly, we have a state of affairs not only breeding unhappiness,
but involving a vast waste of nervous energy. This it is that chiefly
makes the yielding to trivial doubts a menace to human welfare. To
conserve energy for useful purposes, we are so constituted that ordinarily
the little acts of everyday life--our rising, dressing, eating, attending
to household or business details of a routine character--are done by us
automatically. We take it for granted that we do them correctly, and,
usually, we so do them. If now and then we make a mistake, we think little
about it. Rightly, we regard it as of no account, compared with matters of
more importance. Thus we conserve our energy for our life work. Whereas
the doubter about trivialities fritters his energy away.
And, now, taking up the question of the causation of this costly habit of
doubting about trivialities, let us turn once more to the cases of the
two morbid doubters who consulted the Washington and Boston specialists.
In both of these cases, psychological analysis was undertaken to
ascertain the causes of the exaggerated tendency to doubt. In both it was
found that the patients had been subjected in childhood to conditions
almost inevitably productive of a profound distrust of self. This was
particularly true in the Washington case. The patient in this case was the
only son of parents whose love had led them to be over-solicitous about
him. When he was a little fellow they could not bear to have him out of
their sight, lest something should happen to him. They had anticipated his
wishes, done for him things that he might very well have done for himself;
and, when he did attempt to do things for himself, they intervened to help
him.
The result was an enfeebling of his consciousness and of his will. The man
grew up without initiative. People had always done things for him, had
always decided things for him. How could any one expect him to decide
anything for himself? It was not that he was naturally weak-minded,
weak-willed; it was that his training had engendered in him conditions
making for mental confusion and instability of purpose.
Such was the outcome of the neurologist's psychological study of his
case. It held the possibilities of a cure, through psychic re-education,
having as its starting point the emancipation of this child of thirty from
slavish dependence on his parents. And, in the end, after nearly two years
of patient effort, a cure was actually effected.
In the second case, distrust of self had been produced in quite another
way. This patient's parents had not spoiled him by over-attention. On
the opposite, they had not given enough thought to the importance of
developing in him emotional control, the need for which was particularly
indicated in his early childhood by great dreaminess and sensitiveness of
disposition. His special need for training in the control of his emotions
was further evinced by the violence of his reactions to happenings of
a disturbing nature. Once, for instance, when he unexpectedly met a
deformed, paralysed man, he fell to the ground in a faint.
This should have been sufficient warning to his parents that they must
make every effort to stiffen his character and to protect him from
needless shocks. As a matter of fact, they exposed him to conditions that
would have been harmful to any child. During his early years he was thrown
much into the company of an old grandfather afflicted with sundry physical
and mental ailments, among them the doubting mania in an extreme form.
Also, he was allowed to witness the death agonies of several relatives.
All this was bound to leave a lasting imprint on his mind and his nervous
system, filling him with vague fears, both as to life in general and, in
particular, as to his own ability to live successfully. It was impossible
for him to escape the knowledge that he did not endure the difficult and
the unpleasant as well as other children did. And, with this knowledge,
distrust of self, a sense of inferiority, took firm hold of him.
Nevertheless, he contrived to get along passably until he entered college.
He was nervous and a little "queer," but not markedly so. When, however,
ever, he found it necessary to study unusually hard for some examinations,
a breakdown came. Various disease symptoms, physical and mental, developed
in him, including the habit of perpetually fretting and doubting about
things of small significance. In his case, that is to say, faulty training
in childhood had laid the foundation for a serious psychic weakness, to
the full development of which a physical condition--fatigue--had acted as
the immediate cause.
In most cases of morbid doubting that have been psychologically analysed,
parental mistakes have similarly become apparent. There may be--there
usually is--a constitutional tendency to nervous troubles. But the
parents have not appreciated this. Or, if they have appreciated it, they
have failed to offset it by education especially designed to strengthen
the will and inspire self-confidence, and by measures having as their
end a sound physical upbuilding. Also, they have failed--and this is of
the utmost importance--to externalise the personal interests, so that
self-consciousness shall be at a minimum.
This does not mean, however, that the unfavourable results of the
parental mistakes cannot be remedied later in life. There is reason to
believe that, even in most extreme cases of morbid doubting--except the
comparatively few cases where organic brain disease is responsible for the
doubting--it is possible to effect a cure. As has been said, both of these
patients were cured, and their cases may be regarded as fairly typical
of this variety of mental affliction at its worst. Accordingly, when the
tendency to trivial doubts is less marked, there is the possibility not
only of cure, but of self-cure, provided that the doubter recognises
exactly wherein he is deficient.
Self-consciousness, timidity, distrust of self, a conscious or
subconscious feeling of inferiority, and often a lack of physical
vigour--these are the elements that chiefly contribute to the growth of
a tendency to anxiety and indecision about trivial things; these are the
weaknesses that specially need to be overcome. As a preliminary measure,
the doubter should make it a rule to take exercise daily in the open air,
and to see to it that his living and sleeping quarters are kept well
ventilated.
Indecision, even in the most energetic of men, is frequently a resultant
of deprivation of fresh air. To reach decisions, to settle doubts quickly,
a well-nourished brain is indispensable. And no brain can be well
nourished unless the blood flowing to it is amply supplied with oxygen.
Of all persons, therefore, the habitual doubter is in need of plenty of
fresh air and of physical exercise to build up his organism as a whole and
increase his powers of resistance to fatigue. For the same reason, he
needs an abundance of good food.
Physical upbuilding, moreover, will have the desirable effect of
increasing his power of concentrating attention on some serious life
interest. This, above everything else, is what the doubter needs to do.
He must develop an ardent interest in something worth while--his work, a
useful hobby, occupation of some sort. The trivial doubter--the doubter
of any kind--is pre-eminently a man or woman devoid of a keen life
interest. If a life interest were present, there would be neither time nor
inclination to dissipate energy in useless doubting. If you, my reader,
recognise in yourself one of the doubting kind, you will appreciate the
truth of this. You will admit that you have little enthusiasm for your
work, little interest in anything that would keep you from being too
occupied with thoughts of self.
Developing such an interest, self-consciousness will diminish,
self-confidence will grow. Gradually, less and less attention will be
paid to the petty details of daily existence that formerly gave so much
concern. They will be pushed more and more into the background of the
mind, will be managed automatically, as it was intended they should be
managed. No longer will your indecision be a source of pitying, perhaps
amused, comment by your friends. Instead, they will have occasion to
comment, with pleased surprise, on the vigour and promptness of decision
in all things that has taken the place of the old indecision.
One word more: