“Whose reality do you want to live in,” is a question I had not anticipated challenging clients with before starting my practice. The prompt is about as layered and nuanced as C.S. Lewis’s final novel, written with his wife Joy Davidman, Till We Have Faces. This is a beautiful novel and a retelling of the myth of Cupid and Psyche, entirely from the perspective of a new character, Orual.

Throughout the first section of the book, we are reading a manifesto of sorts; Orual is desperately trying to paint her side of the story, specifically addressing that 1) she loves Psyche more than anyone ever could, and 2) she hates the gods above with a deep vengeance. For, as the story progresses, the reader learns that Orual’s attempt to save Psyche has been restructured as a means to frame Orual as the catalyst of Psyche’s eternal curse of trials. Orual thus believes her ultimate legacy will be one of shame and humiliation– despite her success as a benevolent ruler who brought prosperity.

However, Orual, like many humans, is struggling with the validity of her narrative through personal biases. I had a professor in graduate school who insisted, “you cannot quantify a thought.” I argued that we have assessments like the GAD-7 to quantify thoughts, but what she meant was that people shape their answers based on who they think others want them to be (Lira, et al, 2022).

Take, for instance, an individual who drinks alcohol regularly, but grew up in a time where they were educated about moderation. We as clinicians have to ask everyone how much of each substance they might be using, to better conceptualize where you are at, and how we can help. But, with the stigma of shame, most people are dishonest about their alcohol consumption. 1-2 drinks per night suddenly transforms into every few days. A full 6 pack in a night suddenly becomes 2-3 drinks per night. Not because it is entirely honest, but because the human’s desire to be perceived as put together overrides the expectation of honesty– even in the health field (Júnior, et al., 2022).

Another example is self-reported assessments as a whole. On a scale of 1-5, how much does your sadness hurt? Well, that’s difficult to say, since everyone will make their own variation of what 1-5 represents. Are we assuming everyone starts at 3, or 0? Are we talking about right this second? Because today has been a really good day. Will choosing to focus on only the sad parts for the past week discount all the happy parts? Technically sadness is causing no immediate psychological harm, so maybe I don’t hurt at all. This is too overwhelming suddenly, so I say, “I guess 3-4.” Meanwhile the next person’s microwaved breakfast sandwich was still frozen in the middle, so that’s a 6 out of 5.

The challenge is this: we all live in our own realities, and we have the skill to be aware of everyone else living their own realities as well. And that can cause many bumps in the road when we try to quantify our thoughts. Or, as we see with Orual, when we try to create a narrative with the intention of changing the realities of those around us.

Perhaps I can break this down further. There is a specific type of client that enters my office who experiences anxiety due to a mentality of, “what will the neighbors think?” It is often a motto they inherited from their parents, but nonetheless, their decision-making model includes a caveat of the perception of those around them. If they do not check boxes x, y, and z on the life bingo card, the neighbors will look at them as if they are lesser– with repulsion. They believe their legacy will thus be one of shame and embarrassment.

These clients come into my office, and they pour their heart and soul out, because their therapist is now their neighbor, and what will she think if they don’t rip off all band-aids immediately? Then the client apologizes for not knowing how therapy is meant to work, and they hope they are not coming across as *insert any negative descriptor here* – dull, boring, fake, dishonest, pretentious, ungrateful, stupid, snobby, talkative, quiet, a bad listener, not taking this seriously, etc. The list never ends.

Eventually we get to unpack this, but it has to go at the client’s pace. You cannot do therapy wrong, so they have total freedom to drive the appointment where they need to go– and if I need to step in for navigation, I am right there.

But these clients, like Orual, absolutely dread the idea of being perceived as an antagonist. They bend over backwards to make sure nobody dislikes them. Because what could be worse than having someone tarnishing your legacy? Absolutely nothing. Or, so they believe. The thing is, sometimes, we get so caught up in convincing complete strangers we did nothing wrong, we lose the opportunity to live fully with the people who matter– and who know your truths as what they are: the truth.

Orual becomes so intent on clearing her name that she overadjusts and becomes to us an unreliable narrator. She hyperbolizes so fast and insists she is perfect and a victim, that she loses the opportunity to show where she has made mistakes and how she could grow from them. The shame of saying she unintentionally harmed Psyche is too great, so she spends her whole life repeating the truth she needs the world around her to believe. And where did this all start? When Orual tried to convince Psyche to live in Orual’s reality rather than her own.

Let me rephrase that slightly. Psyche finds love and beauty in a way that Orual cannot join in, and Orual cannot comprehend how her life will continue without Psyche remaining grounded in the same reality as Orual. She ruminates on how to bring Psyche back to a reality that makes sense to Orual so Psyche can remain unchanged, cast in the role Orual needs her to play for the world to make sense. But unfortunately, this is not how the world works.

The way the world works, which I discuss in my office, is that we are all free-thinking humans with complex narratives, hopes, dreams, aspirations, and rules we abide by to make sense of the chaos we call living. Sometimes, in order for our realities to make sense, we need someone to play the part of a bad guy or adversary. And sometimes, we need to be that role for other people. 

When accidentally I cut a guy off on the highway because he wouldn’t let me merge? He probably decided I was the devil incarnate. What I’ll never know is if he was driving home from being laid off and didn’t get closure to tell off his unjust boss. He likely needed me to play the role of intentionally causing harm instead of an honest mistake. And me trying to apologize on a freeway would be far more dangerous than just accepting our realities are going to be slightly skewed, and I have to be perceived in a way I wish I didn’t need to be. 

What this reframing can do for people is something wonderful. We can learn what empathy truly is, and how close we are to genuine truths rather than fear of perception. When I explore with my clients what their reality is, they voice fear and concern around the possibility of becoming delusional. I am not encouraging anyone to make up a false narrative, I am asking them to pay attention to what really happened, what role they were playing, and whose reality they are living in to shape this narrative.

Maybe it’s unwise to confess I, a practicing professional, am flawed. But alas, it is true. I make mistakes, I have hurt people, and I can make a fool of myself in public. The thing is, we all are flawed, and we have all hurt people, and I believe we are all genuinely trying our best to put forth more good than pain. Sometimes, we have to hold all these truths at once to understand ourselves and our realities better. Which is exactly what happens in the second part of Till We Have Faces.

Orual, now old, finally reaches a point where she honestly names the obsession of narrative control, and what she was truly experiencing. It wasn’t hatred, it was a protection so she did not need to name the pain of losing someone she loved so dearly. And it was jealousy for the people who remained in Psyche’s new reality which Orual believes she can never join. For the first time in the story– touchingly and poignantly at the end– Orual is living in her fullest truth, not fighting to change minds, and can experience her reality for what it is.

As an even more poetic touch, Lewis does not have anyone answer Orual when she confesses to her anger. The gods remain perfectly silent– never interrupting, but they stay to listen, for what Orual believes to be days of repetition and spite. And Orual finds the silence to be enough. She never wanted to be argued with or validated, she simply wanted space to be seen, and to feel heard. With that shared knowledge and the gods meeting Orual where she was at, she can finally let go of the hurt and begin to heal.

To wrap up, I want you to understand that it is okay to be uncomfortable while thinking about the role a past version of you might be playing in other’s lives. That discomfort is a sign of growth and integrity. We do not need to repetitively punish ourselves for our transgressions, but spending a lifetime insisting it’s not the truth is not a fulfilling life, either. Find your reality, name the truths for what they are, and then learn from them so you can heal. And if you’re struggling to find the way, I know of a few licensed professionals who make a career of listening, not interrupting, and meeting you exactly where you’re at. And they have training on helping you, judgement-free and at your pace, navigate yourself back to your reality.

References

Júnior, G. A. F., da Silva, M. A. F., Lins, M. F. C., & Lima, M. C. P. (2022). Social desirability bias in qualitative health research: A scoping review. Revista de Saúde Pública, 56, 9. https://doi.org/10.11606/s1518-8787.2022056003953
Lira, B., Marsh, J. A., & Duckworth, A. L. (2022). Reference bias: Large-scale evidence on limitations of self-reports in education. Scientific Reports, 12(1), 19310. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-022-23373-9