Screws Fall Out
In a scene from the 1980s popular culture classic, “The Breakfast Club,” the troubled kid character of John Bender, while in detention, makes the statement: “Screws fall out. The world is an imperfect place.”
Any perfectionist breaking out in hives at that statement?
Screws fall out. Indeed, for those of us perfectionists, a crest-fallen countenance seems to be the inevitable response to pesky reality.
So, why do we have such a screwy reaction to imperfection? Well, here are a few theories.
“I’m Scared.”
Hello, control issues.
It’s all about what makes us feel safe.
There’s nothing like fear to hijack everything in our lives, while demanding we stay perfectly safe. Perfectly safe. Meaning, being im-perfectly safe is not acceptable or allowed.
We apply it to our relationships and to our circumstances.
We long for a particular person to be our rescuer. We want someone to silence pain and rid us of the monster. We want someone to make it safe foe us to love and be loved, without us doing any personal work or individual heavy lifting of personal issues.
We, likewise, desire and expect that our environments, achievements, and our personal appearances will reflect back “all is well.” We are good enough. We are going to remain good enough and we will never be in jeopardy of chaos, change, instability, or danger.
The job, the home, the car, the kids, the public image all must preserve and protect our fragile egos. The sense of self may, indeed, shatter without that perfectly safe, perfectly kept, little world of ours.
Why?
Again, because we are scared.
The screws must not fall out in life. The world must not be an imperfect place.
“I Want To Be Right.”
When we’re not swamped with being terrified, we, perhaps, demand to be right.
We demand it of ourselves. We demand it from others.
Whereas safety may be a delicious appetizer for many of us, vindication for being made wrong may, in fact, be the yummy main course. It can promise us that revenge fantasies will favor our side of things. This is especially the case if we have come from abuse and bullying experiences.
In relationships, that may look like seeing our abuser or bully get his/her comeuppance.
Maybe we see their utter ruin unfolding before our eyes. Maybe they are on their knees and they grovel an “I’m sorry. You were right. I was wrong.”
In circumstances, we, perhaps, can dangerously skirt a sense of entitlement.
We may assert, “Well, I was horribly treated by this scenario. Therefore, I deserve to get my way now, be my own boss, have power over someone else.”
Too extreme and dark, you say? Incapable of seeing yourself that petty?
Well, to that, I offer a commonly trotted out phrase, “Hurt people hurt people.”
Yeah, I know.
But before your corneas get stuck to the top of your head from the violent eye roll here, it is completely realistic to recognize how people can often negatively act out from a place of personal disempowerment. A childhood bully often bullies other kids because he is tormented by his parents and/or siblings at home. An abuser often hits his/her spouse because that’s what he/she learned as acceptable family behavior as a child.
Violence, inequity, and mistreatment are all the painful norm in many of our lives.
Day in, day out, that is excruciating, until, perhaps, like the 1970s movie, “Network,” we reach a saturation point and declare at the top of our spirits and our personal mantras…
“I’m mad as Hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!”
No, no, no! Screws are most certainly NOT going to fall out any longer! The world and my life MUST be perfect!
I want REVENGE to MAKE it so!
“I Want Worth.”
Many of us who struggle with perfectionistic tendencies can do so because we view perfection as equal to worth/value. And, yes, some of us can tip over to an extreme perspective that, conversely, imperfection equals worthlessness.
Hello, self-esteem and core beliefs territory.
It often shows up, then, in our desperate attempts to gain our (already inherent, nothing can change that reality) self-worth through the external of other relationships with people. We can get sucked into the mindset that we are only as valuable as our associations with others. As long as we are someone else’s boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, friend, business associate, club member, etcetera, then all is well. Screws are intact. Life is as it should be.
And this, likewise, can also extend to circumstances. If there is no upsetting change to the crafted world we have set up for ourselves, again, all is well. Life is good. If we continue to have that job, that house, that status, that image, that comfort zone, that good health, etcetera, then we can be lulled into the false sense of security that it will always be this way and we will always be and stay this safe, because, yes, we have, indeed, crafted it that way.
Oh, great! Now, suddenly we have taken on the role of Omnipotent Deity for ourselves! What could possibly go wrong with that?
So, screws had better not fall out, huh? The world had better not be an imperfect place, huh? God (us) demands that not happen! Wonderful, oh, so flexible AND realistic!
Acceptance: “Screws fall out.”
“…Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.”
“The Serenity Prayer,” Karl Paul Reinhold Niebuhr, American theologian
Job loss.
The end of a relationship.
Death.
A cancer diagnosis.
Covid-19.
How’s that for some unwieldy screws popping out of place, all over the place?
Most of us, especially those of us in recovery programs, are familiar with The Serenity Prayer. It’s a prayer about responsibility and possessing realistic expectations from life, for our lives.
It’s an anti-perfection prayer.
And no matter what our religion or belief system, it would probably do us ALL some good to pray more that way.
“Really?” (You, my fellow Perfectionist, ask this question, don’t you? I can hear you getting uncomfortable at the thought of it just now).
And yes, the answer is yes. Yes, we probably should worry less about perfection… and concentrate more on the living progress, complete with mistakes, relapses, and messy change. Daily. Hourly. Minute by minute, second by second, even.
This is the screwy stuff of life. Relationships and circumstances are not predictable, certainly not perfect. We are not predictable or perfect. It can all change, often, without warning, without the comforting head’s up so many of us would like to have.
A pandemic occupying our lives currently makes that even more apparent.
Acceptance does not necessarily mean being giddy about something. We can accept a person, a circumstance, a personal quirk about ourselves, and we don’t need to be ecstatically happy or thrilled about that reality. We can, from an imperfect, and hopefully, loving, place, settle into a more peaceful, “it is what it is” kind of mentality.
And “It is what it is” will not feel perfect either.
It will be and feel what it will be and feel to us.
And that, even, will be subject to change.
LIFE is change.
Life is a bunch of screws that fall out of place. And, maybe, by doing so, create life events that fall INTO place for us.
Is it perfect?
No.
Is it valuable and tailor-made for you and me?
Yes.
Therefore, enjoy, or at least, accept the state of your screws, whatever they may be.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“Screws Fall Out” challenges perfectionism in an imperfect life.
Ruin Your Own Damn Day!
“Don't let others ruin your day. Ruin your own damn day!”
I came across this humorous statement recently and it got me thinking.
Self-sabotage is one of those pesky, insidious realities many of us face. We can convince ourselves we’re so together. We have a great relationship, career, family, home, and financial portrait. We have the bases covered. We’re good. We know who we are and what we want in life.
Humpty Dumpty, getting ready to have a great big fall, in three, two…
Most of us are really not aware we self-sabotage until after the fact. It’s usually after a marriage crumbles, a job is lost, we lose a house, a car or anything that represents stability, financial or otherwise. We are somehow, someway devastated. And probably, what’s at that devastating center is the realization that we had a hand in bringing it on all by ourselves. We broke our own hearts.
The Why of Ruining Our Own Damn Day: Reason 1:
“This is perfect.”
No better starting point than completely unrealistic expectations, right?
Yes, in life, you and I fixate on something or someone… and christen them as “perfect.” For all time. In all circumstances. Without fail. We give the something or the someone a job they were never meant to possess: the key to perfecting our own imperfection.
The problematic issue, in the first place, is perfection itself. There is no such thing, let alone, assigned to anything external. So, if we place faith in its existence, we are already setting ourselves up for assured failure. We will ruin our own damn day, via this self-sabotage method.
The Why of Ruining Our Own Damn Day: Reason 2:
“This is so good (so I’ll wreck it).”
If we believe in the perfection of our designated object of our affection, we, of course, attach a “good” label to it. This can be troublesome in a couple of ways.
First, what if the thing we call “good” is NOT?
What if it’s harmful? Dangerous? Not right for us?
But here we are, thoroughly decided it’s perfect, it’s good, and there’s no other, more complicated, more realistic explanation to it than that?
So, that’s a fun prelude to the future ruining of our day.
And regardless of the object of our desire’s actual status, there’s a second, more alarming aspect to our self-sabotage. We can view that certain something or someone as being perfect and good, so much so, that we, inherently, are unworthy of it. We are quite worthless, in fact. We don’t deserve it. Therefore, we have no other choice other than to ruin it for ourselves.
We ruin our own damn day once again.
The Why of Ruining Our Own Damn Day: Reason 3:
“Nothing else will ever come my way again.”
Cheery outlook, isn’t it?
Yes, while we’re all preoccupied with these impossible, unrealistic standards and expectations about the issues in our lives, we also add this bleak perspective to our self-sabotaging mindsets.
We panic. We apply end-all, be-all importance to our designated idol of fulfillment. There are no other buses coming our way, taking us to our destinations. Better hop on this thing, then, for all its worth!
A big part of what fuels this self-sabotage tactic involves the oppressive, black or white, all or nothing way of thinking. If we entertain that line of assessing something, it usually won’t be too long before we cross into the “or else” nature of this faulty belief. Indeed, we can wrongly determine that absolutely nothing and no one else can come close to our own perfect and chosen “idol.” We stand in judgment of anything else coming close. We are judge, jury and executioner. We pulverize and kill.
We ruin our own damn day, yet again.
Yet, it’s still not a hopeless, despair-filled death sentence.
Yes, it looks grim, this human tendency to destroy ourselves and our lives. Yet, if we are aware of these propensities to do so, to ruin our own stuff, we can, hopefully, make another choice. We can choose. We can choose something different. We need to take responsibility for ourselves, including our decisions, conscious or unconscious, to self-sabotage.
Now that we are aware, what will we do? What will we do with our days?
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“Ruin Your Own Damn Day!” discusses how our self-sabotaging ways can affect our daily lives.
The Miracle of “Are You Okay?”
When I was deeply grief-stricken over a family member, years ago, I experienced one incident of humane kindness. Like a lot of us out there who encounter grief, I tried to resume my normal daily life. I tried to get on with things. That meant taking the bus to get to where I needed to go. A bus ride. Not all that taxing. Nothing, seemingly, upsetting about it, right?
But I was having a hard time making my life happen. Grief had disrupted it. Already incredibly sleep deprived for weeks, my nerves were jagged. Emotions were heightened. And I could cry easily and intensely out of thin air.
As I was waiting for my bus, I indeed, felt the tears racing to my eyes. I felt the pounding pressure of upset. As I sat on that bus stop’s bench, I dreaded completely losing it as I was out in the open, out in public, with no shelter to hide my raw sadness.
Just then, I hear the whoosh of the bus door opening. I am around, perhaps, a half dozen fellow riders, all inching along, waiting to board the connection. I was on the verge of gushing tears, feeling the pressure of them now. I was going to blow.
As I’m trying to keep it together, some of the fellow riders are jockeying for position, arguing about where, exactly, to sit. It’s agony. I just wanted to sit down and try to stifle my grief with some modicum of privacy. One young man in the group, apparently, noticed my distress. And, with a loving tone in his voice, quietly stated, “Here, you can sit right here. Are you okay?”
Grateful, I nodded, thanked him in a barely audible voice, and sat down. And the rest of the motley passengers were ushered away from me, eventually settling in their own seats. I composed myself as much as I could and went home.
“Are you Okay?”
You and I hear that a lot in daily life. It can cover things like a life-threatening incident, a person struggling with mental health issues, someone we may have inadvertently bumped into or tripped, an accident of some kind, or it can be simply checking on a person who is having a rough time in their lives.
I recently came across this sentiment online:
“Some stranger somewhere still remembers you because you were kind to them when no one else was.”
To me, I had that experiential evidence of the “Are you Okay?” question.
An Antidote to Cruel Life:
Hustle and bustle. Making a buck. Dropping the kids off. Traffic. Life. Cruel life.
Sooner or later, we all encounter its harshness, even with grief, loss, and death interrupting our regularly scheduled programs. Let’s not forget, everyone: a pandemic. Things have taken an even more exaggerated cruelty in life for us. It appears that life neither cares, nor slows down for our personal struggles.
And perhaps, with good reason. After all, concerning life, “it’s nothing personal.”Scripture states, “time and chance happen to us all” (Ecclesiastes 9:11).
With that brutality, then, is it any wonder how kindness, from even a stranger, can register so profoundly for us. It is a kindness reminder. An example of Divinity and humanity, all at the same time. And we are all capable of experiencing it, whether we’re the instigator or the recipient.
Whichever one we are, pick up the cue, the gentle reminder. Kindness need not be on a first-name basis. It often works best, stranger to stranger.
What is not okay right now?
Can you help?
Can you be helped?
What is stopping you from the experience?
Most of us can probably safely say it is a matter of low self-worth. We don’t feel good enough, capable enough, deserving enough. But most of us can tell when something is off, with others or with ourselves. Most of us can pick up on “not right” cues of pain and distress.
And most of us, when in doubt, can ask the “Are you okay?” question of ourselves or others. And then we can apply kindness. It can be quiet, unassuming, and filled with dignity. It’s about response.
And we all need and deserve response.
That young man did not call other people’s attention to my distress on the bus. He asked about my welfare and provided a need I had to sit down and compose myself.
I remember the genuine care from that stranger. He knew nothing of my backstory or my grief. He knew I needed some attention. That’s all.
And that is what keeps me remembering him, almost twenty years later.
Connection:
Grief, estrangement, and major life changes are just a few of the challenges we experience that inform us we are alone. We are disconnected. We have an alone illusion.
“Are you okay?” can then serve to remind us of connection. That really is what we seek, when we pursue love, friendship, success, fame, wealth, or power. Connection. We want to experience the commonality of humanity. The shared burden and awareness that we are not alone; we connect with another person who utters, “Me, too!” And there is a calm peace and reassurance.
What is not okay right now?
What tells you that you are alone?
What would it take to convince you there are people who will love, care, and help you?
“Are you okay?” can be that short, simple question that jerks us out of alone illusion to connection. The bus incident I had years ago broke the forsaken spell I was wallowing in as I was grieving. There’s no wrong way to grieve; wallowing can be a natural part of the process. However, genuine human concern still exists. And we need to remember that.
And yes, I’ sure you have heard about the healing power of helping others to aid in healing ourselves. There is significance to that, yes. However, we need to remember to keep realistic, compassionate expectations if we want to help someone else. We can set ourselves up for devastating failure if we become too ambitious of a savior when we are still bleeding ourselves.
Start small. Find a small way to ask someone, “Are you okay?”
And get help no matter what, no matter if it is for another person or for yourself.
MANY hands make healing and light work. Find and take those hands.
An Inspired Opportunity:
Sooner or later, life teaches us all that it’s a case of when, not if, we encounter someone who needs help. This is, therefore, another opportunity/reminder for Providence. Our Higher Power, God, The Universe, the Big Kahuna often has an “Are you okay?” moment invading our space to teach us that yes, we matter, are loved and valuable, and are not forgotten.
This was, I believe, the case with me, years ago. Again, I was gutted with complicated grief, feeling every bit forsaken, forlorn, and forgotten, left to only drown in my bitter tears.
What is not okay right now?
As I tried, unsuccessfully, to resume my “normal life,” post-grief, everything felt impossible and desolate.
I suppose it’s fitting, then, that this “Are you okay?” incident happened while I was waiting for the bus, after going to church one Sunday morning. I should have felt comforted, in Divine and relational communion, after worshipping with others for an hour. But instead, I felt completely alone, defective, and ashamed that I couldn’t feel more spiritually joyous.
There’s nothing like self-flogging with punishing shame to boost your faith walk, eh?
It was in that precise moment, sitting on the bench at the bus stop, that I would meet my “Are you okay?” Divine intervention. The young man who saw my distress, showed concerned, and asked me that question had no idea I’d just come from church. That didn’t hinder him from his kind gesture. And with that kind gesture, I felt I experienced more of a direct link with my Creator than I had within that church building earlier that morning.
Whether or not we are not okay, or we witness someone else not being okay, we are in a moment for something larger than our mere selves to materialize. We can come up higher, either being uplifted by someone’s kindness and gentle concern, or we can network with the Divine and help others. Either way, it’s about being receptive. Sometimes, healing works at its best in this capacity.
A Stranger Remembers: Are You Okay?
It’s like the line from “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
You know, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” Perhaps, right now, there is someone remembering a kind gesture you and I did for them. Perhaps it is us who are remembering a kindness done to/for us.
“Are you okay?”
No matter what we experience in life, you and I have the possibility of being blessed by this inquiry. The blessing comes, asked as a question, and, ultimately, answered as kind human exchange.
It’s a little thing, but it’s a big thing. As are the most meaningful things in life.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“The Miracle of ‘Are You Okay?’” reminders us of the power of human kindness.
“The Miracle of ‘Are You Okay?’” reminds us of the power of human kindness. | elephant journal
Land on Your Feet
In 1894, Étienne-Jules Marey, a French scientist and pioneer in cinema, created footage known as “Falling Cat.” Supposedly, it is the first motion picture to show a live cat.
In this brief film, a white cat is seen falling, frame by frame, twisting until it lands on its feet aright.
I wish I could be more surefooted and graceful on my feet. Not so that I look like some ethereal white kitty, twisting and falling through the air with natural beauty and style.
It had more to do with the practical; I just didn’t want to keep hurting myself with my own two feet.
I have had, arguably, three separate instances of falling in such a way that I wound up hurt.
Rural Dance Sequence Attempt:
Okay, so please let me set the stage, the small-town farm stage. Me, as a teenager, on a farm with no cable television, specifically, no MTV (where, once upon a time, Boys and Girls, music videos were played on the cable network). Teenage me had to survive as best as she could, by videotaping the current music videos, as played on episodes of Friday Night Videos (the poor teen’s MTV).
Anyway, because I lived on a small-town cable-free, farm, I had to resort to the VCR playback of videos in my parents’ family room. And I decided to dance, because, you know, to paraphrase the Miami Sound Machine, “the rhythm was gonna get me.”
What was also gonna get me? My lack of coordination and actual dance talent for the moves I earnestly tried to bust.
Gee, what do you think will happen?
Well, during one kick-pirouette maneuver that I thought would rival any Broadway dancer, one late summer day, I felt and heard my knee go “pop!” Not a reassuring, tactile experience. My thirteen- year- old met the floor, with my knee screaming at me, refusing to cooperate. I couldn’t get up from the floor.
So, two days away from my first day of the eighth grade, I saw a doctor, who informed me that my knee went out, but that it “wasn’t that serious.” Just be careful walking on it, the long lengths of high school hallways, that’s all.
Sure.
I spent the next two weeks of the eighth grade consistently being late for class, as the swelling in my knee gradually went down. And I learned how injuries can happen, even to a thirteen-year-old.
Youth Hurts:
Yes, there is a timeless lesson right there. We get hurt while young. It can often be a shocker to us, in that young moment of our lives. Broken bones, broken hearts, broken dreams. We’ll get hurt.
Yet, how many of us underestimate that principle, no matter how young (or old) we get in life? We are in some form of disbelief or denial as we encounter the consequences of acting willy-nilly, jumping of a roof on a dare, only to wind up in the emergency room, or being irresponsible and stupid.
I learned, by experiencing the Achilles Heel of my clumsiness, my lack of critical thought and dance training, that, why yes, life hurts. I’m not immune or invincible. Instead, I’m a young teenager, hobbling down high school hallways, resenting my farm life existence.
But I learned life hurts. No exceptions for youth, improper dance moves, or lack or thoughtful planning. We are not the graceful, white feline of Marey’s film. Maybe, we land on our feet, after some twisting, but, when we finally do hit the ground, we, do, indeed, discover: Life hurts.
Stubbed And Stupid?
Many moons after my teenage dance routine gone wrong, I had yet another foot/landing trouble experience. I guess it served me right; I was sincere about my commitment to exercise.
This incident would, perhaps, be romantic and heroic, if I had, indeed, injured myself pursuing some mammoth fitness goal: scales the Andes, training for a marathon, bench pressing four hundred pounds. It was not that glamorous. There was no Rocky training hard core, making his triumphant way up the Philadelphia steps. Nope.
Instead, it was me, hurting my little toe while close to my exercise bike. I was not on it, “overtraining.” I hadn’t become overzealous, and my foot slipped and stubbed itself into the exercise equipment. I had not even stubbed my little toe, exiting the bike, after a fruitful and powerful workout. I could not even enjoy the adrenaline rush/pain killer of feeling that burn. No, I passed by the bike, neither got on or off it. And I clumsily rammed my little toe into it.
Graceful. Powerful. Dedicated.
With it turning black and blue, throbbing, and feeling hot to the touch, yes, I went to the doctor, just to make sure it wasn’t broken. X-rays were done. No big damage. Just pain. I was patted on the head and told to go heal like a real adult now.
It took over a year for things to get back to “normal.” An angel of a nurse, in passing, mentioned how I had a bruised bone, “and they take a long time to heal.”
Hallelujah. I heard angels sighing, no longer snickering at me for the guardian assignments they were given concerning me. I had validation, to go with my sore, embarrassingly hurt toe.
Ignorance is Not Necessarily Bliss:
Much like that falling white kitty, you and I can often feel left to fend for ourselves, twisting in our lack of information, knowledge, and wisdom. We twist, sometimes in pain, in embarrassment, feeling stupid, until, perhaps, one glorious moment. In that moment, maybe we learn something that cancels, or, at least, challenges, the “we are stupid” assertion.
Then, we can land on our feet.
We need incoming information that has yet to materialize. Don’t beat yourself up, while waiting for it.
So, maybe you are mid-twist right now. Maybe you metaphorically stubbed your toe when you could have heroically injured yourself, possessing that fabulous war story. Maybe you feel like you’re falling down in terminal stupidity as you live your actual life.
Twists and turns… and learning. You will land, Wonderful Feline Soul, with or without a sore toe.
Weathering the Aches:
The hits keep coming, Folks. What’s the latest foot/leg injury? A couple of months ago, I wrenched my ankle by, get ready for the excitement, Ladies and Gentlemen, taking a step downstairs in our apartment building. Just taking one step. Somehow, the athlete that I am managed to land hard and straight on my ankle by taking one step. One step.
It hasn’t felt the same since. Epson salt bath? Yep. Icing it? Yep. Staying off it as much as possible, yeah, but it is one of the two feet I use for walking, so…
Anyway, this experience reminded me about mortality, the aging process, and, I guess, my need to fully warm up before I even think about walking.
Not AGAIN!
And I’ve had to learn about accepting the ongoing, annoying reality of pain. It is managed, more often, than cured for us, isn’t it? And isn’t that a metaphor for life itself? No one perfectly cures their lives. It’s coping, dealing. It’s having the acne breakout on your wedding day. It’s limping through a workday (figuratively or literally, take your pick). It’s when we fall flat on the sidewalk in the presence of others who maybe, laugh and point. It’s the struggle when it should be an easy, no-brainer that JUST WILL NOT END!!!
Any one of those will suffice. An endless variety of humiliating, annoying, painful, and humbling situations will arise. Never fear.
We will start out great, like the white fluffy falling cat. And then plans go awry. Twisting. Contorted faces. Maybe we pass gas as we fall through a life moment with the greatest of ease.
Regardless, it continues. We never reach a perfected, fall-proof state of being. We will age, probably fall apart in some way, and have our lives and our bodies changed.
But again, Dear Feline Comrade, you and I land on our feet.
However messily, but we land.
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
Land on Your Feet reminds us of how we repeatedly fall in life.
Land on Your Feet reminds us of how we repeatedly fall in life. | elephant journal
Outstanding in That Capacity
It’s a rite of teenage passage for most of us, Generation X and beyond: watching the John Hughes film, “The Breakfast Club.” It brilliantly captures the angst, the struggles and the uncomfortable truth of the teenage years, via our characters, labeled as “The Brain,” “The Athlete,” “The Basket Case,” “The Princess” and “The Criminal.”
It’s these last two types, especially, that have most recently caught my attention.
Not long ago, I re-watched the movie, many years post my adolescence, and, whether it’s generic hindsight or my sensitivity to abuse, I found myself noting some disturbing relationship dynamics between “The Princess” and “The Criminal.” Maybe you’ll concur.
How It Starts…
We’re introduced to our teens, summoned to a Saturday detention for various reasons. Within minutes of the movie’s start, “The Princess’s” crimes are that of ditching school to go shopping.
Looking at her attire, “The Princess,” named Claire, we see how yes, she appears to be upper middle class, being dropped off at the school in her father’s BMW, wearing expensive clothes.
In stark contrast, our introduction to “The Criminal” (named John Bender), has him walking to the school, every bit the loner, dressed in sunglasses, flannel, denim and a long trench coat. He emits tough guy and “antisocial.”
As the students gather, there are hostile sparks flying between our Princess and our Criminal. He makes suggestive comments. At one point, Bender encourages the other male, “The Athlete,” Andrew, “Let’s get the Prom Queen impregnated.”
Yeah. Sexual harassment at its teenage finest, everyone.
After some antagonizing back and forth, Claire advises the gang to just ignore Bender. To which he responds, “Sweets, you couldn’t ignore me if you tried.”
I immediately remembered the sage advice given to many of us out there as children, “If a boy or girl likes you, they pick on you.” (Hence the hair pulling, hitting, spit balls and other assorted bullying many of us endured).
Being Protective?
Anyway, it appears there’s nothing but annoyance and animosity going on between Claire and Bender. However, as the day unfolds, with angry exchanges between the high school principal, Richard Vernon, and “The Criminal,” communication involving insults from both parties, we, as the audience, start seeing some early protective attempts, on behalf of John.
Because of their heated conversation, Bender gets two more months of detention ordered by Vernon. Their argument is intense, so much so, as this school principal ratchets up the detention Saturdays for Bender, Claire pleads to him, shouting, “Cut it OUT!” She then silently mouths, “Stop!”
Not long after, when Claire complains about the relational dynamics between her parents, along with the threat of potential divorce, Bender asks, “Who do you like better?... If you had to choose between them…”
“The Athlete,” Andrew, confronts John about his uncomfortable line of questioning and interacting with Claire. Eventually, as the Saturday detention session goes on, each of the teens engage in more personal discussion, revealing some vulnerable truths, especially about their family structures.
And, it is here where we see Bender’s abusive reality. He roleplays a disturbing parental exchange, describing what a night in his household is like. This includes name calling, with expletives, verbal abuse, culminating with an unsettling father-son confrontation…
“No, Dad, what about you?”
“F*** you!”
“No, Dad, what about you?”
“F*** you!”
Bender ends this role play, finally escalating with a simulated punch to the face. There is a stunned, silent reaction from the teenagers at this revelation.
And, it is here where we see the first real vulnerable cracks of our “bad boy.” You can see the hurt, the pain, the dysfunction of his life. Many of us, especially us codependents, are often drawn in, wanting to rescue such an individual.
Cruel Perception…
Yes, we, the audience, cannot help but feel compassion for John. Principal Vernon further kicks a dog when he is down. In, perhaps, an attempt to “make an example” of “The Criminal,” this educator proceeds to dismiss his humanity and core value…
“Look at him. He’s a bum. You want to see something funny? You go see John Bender in five years…”
Again, there appears to be an emphasis on writing off this “lowlife” teen. He’s not worth it. There’s nothing more to him than one-dimensional trouble.
On Relationships…
However, like Claire, we are, somehow, intrigued by him. We still don’t give up on him. We want the movie happy ending, I suppose. For, despite the sexual innuendo, the name calling, the insults and the tough demeanor, Bender compels us, doesn’t he? He makes us want to root for him. He makes us want to understand him, take care of him and even love him, doesn’t he?
There’s one point within the storyline, in which Claire and Bender are hanging out together, looking through each other’s stuff. We see Claire flipping through the photos of girls John keeps in his wallet. Bender, likewise, is spraying her perfume, one of the many cosmetic items she carries in her purse. At one point, it looks like he’s using Claire’s eyebrow comb to brush his teeth, as he stares into her compact.
A bit cringeworthy, I must say.
Anyway, the two of them discuss relationships. Claire asks about the many photos, offering the challenge of the “one guy, one girl” dynamic for him to consider. It looks like things may be getting a little too personal and uncomfortable for Bender, so much so, looking at all of the scattered purse contents, he blurts out, “How come you have so much s*** in your purse?” Claire responds…
“I don’t know. I guess I can never throw anything away.”
And Bender, referencing the many wallet photos, answers back…
“Neither do I.”
Yikes.
The “bad boy,” once again, reminds us of how relationships are not often viewed and treated by him in the healthiest of manners. He has trouble with a committed relationship. He needs to have a girl in every port.
Yes, we may be intrigued by the “danger,” the excitement, even the “two different worlds colliding” element of it all. Still, should we accept that as the baseline for how we are treated within a serious love relationship? I think not.
Confrontation…
As the detention Saturday continues for our cast of characters, we are not done with the harsh remarks, bandied back and forth, between “The Princess” and “The Criminal.”
Indeed, as each of the detention teens are sitting in a circle in the school library, they cover a range of uncomfortable topics: sexuality, image, achievement, painful parental relationships, perfectionism.
Inevitably, each one of them, are confronted with status and class.
Yes, we’re all aware of the adolescent hierarchy that exists within a high school structure. There are various “tiers” of value and importance. Claire and Andrew, perhaps, represent that top tier, “the popular kids.” Brian, “The Brain,” perceived as nerdlike, settles somewhere in the middle, as his academic achievement has him possessing a certain role and function as a student. Allison, “The Basket Case,” is probably set lower within the hierarchy, as she is the misunderstood loner, dressed in all black, possessing erratic behavior. And, lastly, of course, we have John Bender, our “Criminal.” Within the context of high school hierarchy, he is at the very bottom.
So, as these teens hash out issues, once again, there is clashing between Claire and Bender. Here is where they spew intensely pointed remarks at one another…
“God, you’re so pathetic… I like those earrings, Claire… I bet those were a Christmas present, weren’t they…go home and cry to your daddy. Don’t cry here…”
Bender continues his insults, telling her to stick to things she knows about, like shopping, nail polish, and “your father’s BMW and your poor drunk mother in the Caribbean.”
Claire, clearly at the point of breaking, sobs, “I hate you so much right now!”
Bender snarls, “Yeah? Good!”
It’s brutal to watch. In the middle of the truth telling, in the middle of adolescent angst, we are still faced with cruelty, which seems to have no age limit. Out of the mouths of babes?
It’s unsettling.
The Basis of a Solid Relationship?
As the film winds down, we witness a conversation between “The Princess” and “The Criminal.” Claire sneaks into the supply closet, Bender’s solitary isolation spot. With a stroke of boldness, Claire leans in, to give John a kiss on the neck.
“Why’d you do that?”
Claire responds, “Because I knew you wouldn’t.”
Eh, maybe not the best communication dynamic going on here, but hey, they’re just getting to know each other, right? Maybe there’s hope, we, the audience reason.
Eventually, John asks a certain question…
“You know how you said before how your parents use each other to get back at each other? Wouldn’t I be OUTSTANDING in that capacity?”
Eh, red flag alert? At first, we may be lulled into an “Awwh, isn’t that sweet?” response.
But let’s just pause for a second here and look a little closer at what that question means.
“Wouldn’t I be OUTSTANDING in that capacity?”
Remember, we’ve spent the last one hour and thirty-seven minutes getting to know these characters. We have witnessed, within that time, a series of inappropriate, hurtful and dysfunctional interactions between Claire and Bender.
And now, suddenly, everything is hunky dory?
What about the more serious issues, experienced by both characters? What about abuse? What about drug use? What about sexual views? What about radical family differences? What about healthy self-esteem? Where is that found in either character? What needs to be worked on and healed?
And will the two of them do just that?
Or, will abuse and dysfunction cycles continue to exist as we see how the two of them are, indeed, “Outstanding in that capacity,” fully hurting each other? Will Bender, sooner or later, give Claire a black eye or a busted lip? Will she stay in the relationship if he does?
And, let’s not forget, their brains haven’t even fully formed yet.
No, none of that is going to be neatly resolved in this relationship, without some bumps in the road.
But, yes, we, the audience, want the happy love story ending, right? We don’t want to think about how that love story may not be so happy, healthy or possible.
Wrapping It Up?
Okay, so we know how the story ends. (Spoiler alert, in case you haven’t seen the movie).
“The Athlete” and “The Basket Case” become a couple. “The Brain” feels some pride and self-esteem, while being appointed the group paper writer. And yes, of course, “The Criminal and “The Princess” couple up.
We’re left with Claire and Bender kissing goodbye before Claire gets into her father’s BMW. Before she does, she places one of her diamond earrings into John’s fingerless gloves, closing that hand with hers on top. They kiss. As she leaves, Bender fastens that earring in his ear, walking home, through the football field, with a bit of a spring in his step. We believe he’s found the love and validation, so much so, the film ends with his triumphant fist raised in the air. The movie freezes on that image. The song, “Don’t You Forget About Me,” by Simple Minds, plays.
Ta-dah! All is well. Even though, Bender’s going home to an abusive family setting. But he found teenage love and is wearing a diamond earring of the rich girl he’s spent the past hour and a half disdaining and insulting.
Sounds great to me.
Sigh: some of it’s the hopeless romantic in me. Some of the sigh is uneasiness.
The Takeaway:
Have I ruined the nostalgic memories of your teenage youth? It’s just a movie from the 1980s. It’s fiction; the characters aren’t real. Yes, that’s all true, but the mixed, confused messages, perhaps, are all too real. “Good Girl” and “Bad Guy” archetypes are hard to kill. What is the agenda driving them?
It’s a precarious thing, especially for those of us who’ve endured any form of abuse. What are we to do with a storyline in which the lovebirds berate, insult and humiliate each other, to only fall in love with each other, without healing any of those boiling issues?
Let’s get real about these fictional characters: “The Princess” and “The Criminal” will probably not seek couples’ counseling. They probably won’t “beat the odds.”
They will hurt each other.
Perhaps, “The Breakfast Club” is more cautionary tale than teen flick. Perhaps is a wakeup call for each one of us, in “a couple” or not, to get healthy and challenge our own identity and personal issues.
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Socrates
To paraphrase the film’s famous song, “don’t you forget about that.”
Copyright © 2023 by Sheryle Cruse
“Outstanding in That Capacity” explores the dysfunctional/abusive dynamics existing between two beloved pop culture fictional characters.
