by Ruby Wax
The Monk, the Neuroscientist and Me
Ruby: What do you think of the expression I just made up? ‘You are the interior decorator of your life?’ Would you buy the T-shirt?
Neuroscientist: I think it’s great, Ruby.
Ruby: No, you don’t, you’re lying. I know you. Okay, moving on, I’m sure from the neuroscience point of view, in terms of relationships, it’s our biology that drives us.
Neuroscientist: ‘Relationship’ is a word that scares scientists, so let’s call it mating behaviour. We can look at three systems in the brain that drive us. I’m simplifying it here, but it’s helpful to break it down in this way. The first system is lust, and it’s driven by adrenaline. This is a purely sexual drive; it’s intense and short-acting and then it wears off.
Ruby: I’m sure with lust it’s like any grade-A drug, you have to keep upping the dose to get the kick. Eventually, you’ll need to bring in the handcuffs and items of a crotchless nature to keep the flag flying.
Neuroscientist: I wouldn’t know.
Ruby: Yes, you would.
Monk: I wouldn’t know either.
Ruby: No, you wouldn’t.
Neuroscientist: The second system is involved in romantic love, and the main chemical at play here is dopamine. Dopamine is part of the brain’s reward system, so it’s a strong driver of human behaviour. That’s why romantic love is so compelling. It’s like a teenager’s view of love; it’s about obsession.
Ruby: It’s more about poems than putting out.
Neuroscientist: Exactly. The third system is attachment, or pair bonding, and its main component is oxytocin. This kind of love isn’t obsessive; you can think about other things besides your partner. It’s motivated by caring for the other person, rather than devouring them. These three systems should work in balance with each other, on different timescales. Adrenaline works for minutes, dopamine lasts weeks to months and oxytocin lasts from months to years. Oxytocin causes changes to brain connectivity over time, but even that fades eventually.
Ruby: So, what do you do when everything fades? A friend of mine wants to know.
Neuroscientist: Well, you can boost your oxytocin levels with physical touch and orgasm.
Ruby: But, eventually, you’d have to stop because you’d get vagina fatigue.
Neuroscientist: I hadn’t considered that.
Ruby: What if you don’t have many orgasms? Do you still stay bonded? Friends of mine want to know.
Monk: I think oxytocin can only be maintained when love is unconditional and less bound up with self-interest. But how many people truly experience that? There’s so often an undercurrent of an agenda, or a need for validation from the other person. So, an important point is to move beyond ego within the relationship.
Neuroscientist: That’s exactly it. If couples can build a relationship, a real companionship, they can sustain higher levels of oxytocin over time.
Ruby: Ash, what’s your ideal relationship?
Neuroscientist: Well, as a scientist, I’d say a couple of weeks of adrenaline then a couple months of dopamine and, eventually, a lifetime of oxytocin.
Ruby: Thubten, are you just an oxytocin guy?
Monk: Yes, I think it’s much more sustainable and meaningful. It’s more to do with love than attachment.
Ruby: What do you think is the difference between love and attachment? Chemically, they seem to be similar.
Monk: Attachment is often based on need. The problem is the more we grasp, the more deficient we feel. It’s interesting how people say, ‘You complete me.’ Aren’t you complete? If you need someone to complete you, then you’re making yourself less than you are and you’ll always feel there’s something missing. But if people can share happiness, that’s a different story. Then it can work. Actually, there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. All we can do is make the decision to put the work in. A relationship isn’t a ‘thing’, it’s something you ‘do’.
Neuroscientist: This is one of those places where an understanding of brain function can help people. If you know about the neurochemistry of love, you’ll be less surprised and disappointed when the adrenaline and dopamine start to wear off. You won’t think something tragic has happened and the relationship is doomed. It helps you to accept the evolution of love within a relationship, to know that it’s going to change and that change has a chemistry to it; your biology ebbs and flows.
If you ask people what their ideal of love is they’ll usually describe a kind of Romeo and Juliet relationship. So many books and films reinforce that: we’re told we should be swept off our feet and that Celine Dion should be running through our heads on a twenty-four-hour loop. So, when that phase ends, people think the relationship is over. Maybe they get divorced because they can’t recapture that feeling. But the head-over-heels feeling has nothing to do with the other person, you just want another hit of dopamine. It’s an addiction.
Ruby: Thubten, you know you said a relationship is about work? A friend of mine is asking, what’s the work?
Monk: I think the work is about becoming more self-aware, blaming the other person less and having more compassion. It’s about mutual respect. If we don’t start owning our stuff, the whole thing starts to crumble when the chemicals die off.
Ruby: It’s so hard to respect someone when everything that person does pisses you off. And even if he’s not doing something right now, you go into your bank of memories and remember what pissed you off in the past. Ed can say to me, ‘Stop using that tone of voice.’ Sometimes, I’m actually not using that voice … though most of the time I am. Ash, did you have that Romeo and Juliet thing when you met your wife?
Neuroscientist: I was never a believer in that thing before, but yes, I had it when I first met my wife. I walked into the room and immediately wanted to be with her.
Ruby: So did you think, as a neuroscientist, Oh, I know what this is, it’s my adrenaline and dopamine? Did you analyse what was happening to you?
Neuroscientist: No, I didn’t think anything. I just did everything I could to flirt with her.
Ruby: I would think, as a neuroscientist, you’d want to know why you feel what you feel?
Neuroscientist: I’m definitely curious but, when life is happening, neuroscientists have dumb human reactions like everyone else.
Ruby: So, you’re unaware, like the rest of us? Do you know what’s attracted you to other women in the past?
Neuroscientist: With one ex-girlfriend, it was her ass.
Ruby: I thought you looked at the brain, for God’s sake. That’s your specialty, not the other end. What was it about the ass?
Neuroscientist: I don’t know, I guess it was shapely.
Ruby: You are so shallow … was it pert or what?
Neuroscientist: Just shapely! With my wife, Susan, it was also a chemical thing; either she drugged me, or it was some mating chemical that made me want to have a child with her.
Ruby: Why do you think we pick one partner over another?
Neuroscientist: There are probably lots of reasons we choose a particular partner, but that initial instinctive draw might have to do with evolution and genetics.
Ruby: So, we’re not just attracted by the smell of an alpha, like I was told?
Neuroscientist: No, it’s not all about alphas and betas. Genetic studies show that people tend to be attracted to partners who complement them on a genetic level, who have a set of genes that they lack. It’s magazines and television that teach us that only one look is attractive, even though biology pulls us towards diversity. I know a tall, beautiful woman who has always been attracted to short, bald guys. Her attraction to that type of guy is automatic and, to me, that’s biology at work. But you don’t have to be opposites, it’s just that people tend to be attracted to mates with genetic traits they are lacking. That makes for healthier children with stronger immune systems, but it won’t necessarily produce a good marriage.
Ruby: What if you don’t want to have children, or can’t, or you’
re gay? Are you still choosing a partner based on biology?
Neuroscientist: Yes, surprisingly, there is evidence that gay people are also attracted to genetically diverse partners. It’s about biology driving attraction, not just reproduction. Your genes are trying to pair you with a mate, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to have children.
Ruby: Can I go back to this finding someone who’s genetically different from you? This couldn’t be more true with Ed and me, as I have never even seen Ed’s face; he’s six feet two and I am a toadstool. Completely not in my gene pool.
Neuroscientist: But if you could see Ed’s face, I think you’d get along. It’s clearly worked out, because all your kids have the right numbers of fingers and toes.
Ruby: Thubten, how have your relationships changed as a monk?
Monk: Before I was a monk I think there was quite a mercenary quality to my relationships. Looks were the currency and it often felt like a situation of buying and selling. I did have some long-term, more serious relationships, but I would get very attached. It was all so intense and I would become quite obsessed.
Ruby: Did you ever stalk anyone?
Monk: Yes, I’ve been known to stalk if a phone call wasn’t returned. Now, as a celibate monk, and with my mind in such a better place, I find that I can have so many warm and loving friendships and, because there’s no agenda, I have relationships that feel so much more spiritual and enriching.
I’m not saying celibacy is for everyone – for one thing, the human race would die out! But it’s very good if you’re quite an intense person like me. I became a monk, where you vow to be celibate, so I’d have less distractions, which means I can wholeheartedly serve others.
You’ll find the relevant mindfulness exercises for relationships in Chapter 11.
7
Sex
The Monk, the Neuroscientist and Me
Ruby: Thubten, when was the last time you had sex?
Monk: Twenty-five years ago.
Ruby: Well, that about covers it.
8
Kids
Babies: In the Beginning
I wrote about babies and how to grow them successfully in my last book, A Mindfulness Guide for the Frazzled. I can offer no better advice in this book on the topic so, if you want to know anything, go and buy my last book and turn to the chapter on babies.
Just a refresher: When your baby comes out of the float tank known as you, it’s sprouting 25,000 neurons per minute and, as they branch out, they make 2 million connections per second. Now, don’t be frightened by what I’m about to say, but every interaction you have is connecting those neurons, building the mainframe of your baby’s brain. You are the sculptor and your baby is the mound of clay. Luckily, as soon as they’re born, you’ll get a full complimentary set of hormones to help you know what to do. Out of nowhere, you’ll suddenly speak a new language called ‘Motherese’ and words like ‘Woojie’ will spring from your lips. Don’t be alarmed: it’s not you losing the plot, it’s the hormones talking. From this point on, you and your baby will become mirrors of each other, reflecting each other’s facial expressions, movements and, later, emotions and words. Our facial muscles are directly wired to our brains via nerves, so every expression sets off different cascades of hormones, evoking specific emotions. If you smile, your baby smiles and feels good. If you continually make a mad face, guess what happens? Your baby will someday need a shrink … for many years – and guess who’s paying?
You will become a single unit, symbiotically responding to each other, each of you trapped in a reciprocal tango that never ends. And this dance is what ultimately lays down your child’s characteristics. They inherit specific genes but everything that happens to them, starting with your interactions, will strike or silence those genes, determining their future abilities and traits.
Undo the Damage
And if they do get into bad habits, the good news is that they can be unstitched later in life, thanks to neuroplasticity. If you change how you see and feel about the world, your genes change (it’s called epigenetics, for the fancier of you readers). It’s never too late to rethink your thinking. This means, even if your parents screwed you up, nurturing experiences later in life can dramatically revise your biological makeup, triggering different genes to switch on or off. It’s not too late to change your and your baby’s gene expressions. Simply read this book and follow the instructions in the mindfulness chapter and you can repair the damage.
A psychoanalyst named Donald Winnicott came up with the expression ‘good-enough’ parenting. Thank God I’m off the hook; I had very little maternal juice. For example, I didn’t know that excessive crying meant the nappy was filled to capacity. I thought Max was just in a bad mood so did some clown faces at him. He eventually exploded. (I’m not a mind reader.) Winnicott said that parents need to fail sometimes, to make mistakes when they try to fulfil their baby’s needs, so that the baby can experience frustration. It teaches them how to ‘man up’ later in life and deal with frustrations successfully. If the parents try to be perfect, coddling them and never saying, ‘No,’ it can screw them up; they’ll assume someone will always be there and give them what they want. So, it’s important for parents to make mistakes. Yay!!!
Remember: Those who are nurtured the best survive the best.
Parents and Kids
You know your baby has become a child (around age four) when they start asking questions and demanding answers. You better have some ready. One of my kids asked at that age, ‘Mommy has a front bottom’ (female genitalia), ‘my sister has a front bottom, so why does daddy have a chicken-leg bottom?’ I wasn’t ready for that one and, in those days, you couldn’t google answers. By four, children are developing more solid personalities and you can no longer treat them as an extension of you. This is a delicate time because some parents (like mine) start getting into conflicts because they assume their kids are just bigger versions of the babies they once were. No, kids by this age are now individual people and you may find you have nothing in common with them. You may even dislike them, but it’s too late to send them back.
Know Your Luggage from Theirs (Things I Wish I’d Known Before)
If you don’t become aware of your habits of thinking, feeling and behaving, you’ll pass your crap on to your child. How do you get that awareness? I hear you ask.
When you feel as if you’ve been stabbed in the heart because your kid has hit your emotional bullseye, they probably didn’t do it on purpose, though it feels that way. Most kids don’t start off spiteful, it’s something they learn later in life. When you get the knife in the heart, register it and, even if you have to leave the room, don’t respond; wait for the hot reaction to pass. If you can notice those moments when your trigger’s been hit and manage not to snap at your child, that is emotional intelligence at its finest.
When your mental storm has calmed down, talk to your child about what happened without blame and without sharing your pain. Maybe, if they’re old enough, tell them that what they said or did sparked off a memory for you. ‘Mommy is very fucked up,’ is something I say a lot. This helps them see that you’re human, which will surprise them.
Another way you might inadvertently pass on your luggage is by passing on your fear of failure, especially when they start going to school and getting marked on how smart or stupid they are. People I know who were relatively cool about life suddenly, when they have kids at school, will lie, cheat and stab anyone who gets in their way of getting their kids into a better school. They lose perspective and don’t realize that when the kid is forty, no one will ask what school they went to. Except people who go to Eton (which should be barked like a peacock when said: ‘EEEEEEEETON!!!!’). They will mention they went to school there even on their deathbed.
My Story
One of my daughters is an actress. Each time she goes for an audition, I try, I try … but each time she comes back, a pathetic, feeble voice squeaks out of me: ‘Did they like you? Did they laugh? W
hen will they tell you? Were you good? Did you feel like you did enough? Can I call someone to find out how you did?’ This is said as one long, desperate sentence. My daughter, meanwhile, had a good time and thinks if she’s right for a part, she’s right; if not, so be it. I am one hundred years older than her and have not got this into my head. I used to take it all as a personal rejection, hungrily seeking the approval I never got at home. Every time she auditions, I relive the horrendous memory of when I auditioned for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. I’d just finished my audition, which was met with stunned silence, so was standing with other hopefuls, waiting for the names of the ‘call backs’ to be read out. I had already been to six prior auditions at the Royal Academy, and my name was never read out. I was now at my seventh audition and, again, my name wasn’t called. I asked in a desperate voice, ‘Are you sure you don’t have my name on the list?’ And the man, who I will never forget, said in that dead, English voice, ‘Yes.’ I kid you not, I went back to my flat and took six Valium to kill myself. (I only had six.)
Each time my daughter auditions, I still feel the spear of agony pierce my heart from the memory of my name not being called. Now, because of mindfulness, I’ve learned to (sometimes) hold my tongue and even remove myself from the premises when she comes home, because I still can’t stop my face looking puckered and desperate. I can’t get it into my head that, with all that rejection, I still did all right – more than all right. But we mostly remember the negative things, because the lance is much sharper when it’s cruel than when it’s a nice lance. I know my lances intimately.
