Demons and Alchemy in Relationships

By David W. McMillan, Ph.D.

There are several pleasures I derive from exploring this subject. One is the satisfaction derived from a curious itch scratched. This is the alchemy part, the discovery of the amazing magic that sadness and grief bring to the liberation from our tendency to indulge in heroic/ persecutory/victim pity parties.

             We tend to produce hero/victim myths that can capture us in a cycle of confirmation bias case building that blinds us to the good in others and freezes us in a perpetual coldness making intimacy impossible.

            Now, a word about relationship dynamics and human logic. Our logical minds follow a reflex set of relationship rules. Rule one is balance, an eye for an eye, karma; I insult you; you return my insult; I appreciate something about you; you appreciate something about me. I characterize you in my mind a certain way thinking you are not aware of how I see you (and you may not be aware) and you see me in that same light.

            This law of balance is the basis of the next law of relationship dynamics, the law of motion or momentum. In this law the spirit or valence of a relationship, positive or negative has a way of building on itself. Kindness begets kindness; trust begets trust; goodwill begets goodwill and these positive valent exchanges can grow to become a lasting habit of peace and comfort in relationships.

            And anger can beget anger; distrust can beget distrust; fear can beget fear; suspicion can beget suspicion and these negative valent exchanges can grow to become a lasting relationship habit of mutual disdain.

            Then there is this third reflexive dynamic law in human relationships, the law of entropy. The point of the law of entropy is that without regular maintenance, when a relationships balance and momentum are taken for granted, that momentum and balance tend to deteriorate. Relationships need attention. They need lubrication, attention to how energy and resources are used to obtain the best results, an awareness of plans and expectations so that people can dance together without stepping on the feet of their partners.

            The law of entropy leads us to the exploration of alchemy and demons. The laws I have just described are like the Newtonian Laws of Physics. This is the realm in which our minds work most of the time especially when relationships are taken for granted and receive no renewing attention and maintenance. It is likely that from time to time one party in a relationship can wake up on the wrong side of the bed and feel out of sorts because they are hungry or have a backache or their minds want to avoid thinking about the stress of their duties that day or for no particular reason. And our out of sorts person will search for a reason to justify these negative feelings, searching for someone to blame and for someone else to right their world.

            They inevitably land on their partner’s behavior as the cause and demand that their partner right their imagined wrong. Then their momentum shifts to the negative and…

            Fortunately, there is another human dimension beyond the familiar tit-for-tat Newtonian world. This is the absurd, paradoxical, silly creative miraculous world of alchemy, a spiritual world where we can turn water into wine and led into gold. In the world of  physics, it is Quantum Physics, which is the opposite of Newtonian Physics.

            In Quantum Physics, matter is energy and energy is matter. There are unknowable, invisible, perhaps parallel universes. In the floor under out feet, there is more empty space then solid matter. In this world black holes imprison light; a critical mass can explode into multiple universes. There is a whole aspect of reality called dark matter that we can’t see touch or feel, but can only theorize about mathematically in our brains. Time is a manmade construct.

        Our mythical relationship’s world is a world of faith and spiritual reality exists. The miraculous opposes the logical primitive reflexive eye for an eye world.

            So, let’s talk a bit about demons. Yes, it is easy to imagine as some of us did when we were children that there is a heaven, a hell, a devil, the powerful God of temptation and evil and in heaven, the God of right, duty and responsibility. And that the two are at war for our souls.  When we die, the God in heaven will tally our sins versus our good deeds and decide whether or not we will have eternal life in heaven or hell.

            I don’t believe in the devil. I don’t believe in the cosmic battle of these anthropomorphic entities that fight for the rule of humanity. I do not believe that God wrote the Bible or the Koran, or the I-Ching. I do not mean to encourage superstition or conspiracy theories of any type.

            Yet, I do believe in the magic of alchemy, not the turning of water into wine or led into gold. But I believe in the miracle of redemption and of personal transformation, I believe we can fight our reflexive tendencies to respond in kind. I believe that love can be an antidote to hate. I believe that we can walk courageously into emotions like sadness and shame and we can learn and grow and become people of honor and integrity using those seemingly unattractive feelings. shame and sadness as our allies and teachers.

            It is my view that some spiritual thinkers have tried to teach us the miracles embedded in alchemy and others have perverted this ancient wisdom in justifications for hate and cruelty.

            But I’m going far off field. My main goal is to share a discovery of an ancient truth with you by way of a story about a couple I’ve been seeing.

            I’ve been seeing them intensively for months. They have learned some of my alchemic principles. “It’s wrong to be right,” “Innocence is evil,” “Shame can be your best friend and teacher, “It is an offense to take offense,” etc.

            They have learned the five steps of a competent apology and the six, slower steps of forgiveness. Their practice of these new skills and ideas have brought them from the brink of divorce to a better place, but a still raw and frightening place. They are afraid that their old marriage with its anger, alcohol, drugs and infidelity and cruel neglect will return and swallow them whole again. In that old marriage wife played the role of Yoko Ono to the husband’s John Lennon.

            Let’s call them John and Jane. Jane is a devoted mother of four. John is a prolific provider for his family. Jane admits to abandoning her sexual self and John when the first child was born. She had always wanted to be a mother with a passle of children. She was furious when John unilaterally decided to have a vasectomy after four children.

            John felt betrayed and rejected and abandoned. He felt guilty for wanting his wife’s attention and he didn’t know what to do with his anger and hurt. He regressed into an adolescent world of alcohol, drugs and narcissism. He brought home money and rage. This rage and his immaturity disgusted Jane. She withdrew further from him justifying her abandonment with countless examples of his demands for dominance and attention.

            He has stopped drinking even though he never felt the compulsion to drink like an alcoholic might. He did this for his marriage. He stopped hanging with his old friends. He stayed away from home for weeks to give Jane the space she asked for. He began managing his anger better.

            Jane began her thaw. She joined him in the marriage bed a few times. In the past they approached parenting very differently and the children were empowered by their inability to co-parent. As they worked on their marriage, they found a path toward effective co-parenting.

            But with every three steps forward, they took two back. The focus of therapy began to move from John and his impulsive angry sabotage of their relationship to Jane and her moods and her passive rage that was her version of a five-year-old who said, “I’m going to hold my breath until I die or you stop doing that.”

            She had confided in her sister all of John’s past sins. Her sister had witnessed John’s arrogant disregard of Jane. Her sister had no faith in John or Jane’s marriage. Her sister could not imagine any longer sharing Christmas with John or allowing her children to be at their home when John was present. And all agree, even John, that she has good reasons for her fears and distrust of John.

            Jane and John had not told their children that the divorce petition was dropped. Jane had not told her sister. They wanted to share this good new with their children. They wanted them to know they lived in a family with a secure marriage once again. This meant Jane had to tell her sister.

            When she faced this task, Jane’s resolve to remain married melted. Her fears returned. She began collecting memories of John in their old marriage and began building, once more, her case against him.

            We were having a zoom session as she repeated the story of John’s infidelity, a story that didn’t include his confession and truth-telling, his painful apology that in which he bathed himself in her hurt and his shame. Nor did she mention her forgiveness process and her promise to forgive hi, put the past in the past and never use his infidelity as a weapon again. put the past in the past.

            “Are you ever going to forgive me and see me as I am today,” John asked.

            “He’s right,” Jane said. “I can’t seem to let go of the past. My fears build in my mind. My thoughts move from one painful past memory to another. I can’t believe he’s changed. I’m afraid to.”

            “You are captured by a demon,” I said.

            “I know,” she said, “All I know to do is withdraw and be alone. And eventually I come to my senses but it takes time and that hurts John. It makes him feel abandoned and he is abandoned. I don’t know what to do. I feel trapped. My mother used to talk to me about my moods. She told me to go to my room when my presence spoiled the company. I did that then and it worked, but I’m an adult now and I have a responsibility to my husband and my children. I can’t do this anymore.”

            “And I’m captured by a demon too,” John said. “I know I should leave her alone and stay away, but I’m afraid she will never come back. And my demons make me chase after her. I yearn for her acceptance. It’s hard for me to be still and endure her rejection. She says its not rejection, but it feels like it.”

            “In the old marriage,” I said, “you were captured by these demons and you didn’t know it. You fought each other hoping the other would free you from your prison of fear. Control would calm your fears. If your partner would only give in and join you, stop feeling that way and let you influence them to feel another way, you would calm yourselves. In this fight for control someone must lose. Often it is both of you.”

            “Yes, its both of us,” Jane said. “When I’m afraid I tell myself a story. In that story I am innocent and John is my tormentor. I’m a hero who fights evil against him. I am his victim and I’m entitled to justice. For him to have my respect and approval he must give me what I want. The problem is I don’t always know what I want and I have built an airtight case against him and I lock myself inside this case.”

            “I do a version of that too,” John said. “I convince myself that she’s exploiting me; that I’m a paycheck to her; that all she wants is to play house with the children and my money. She knows I’m dependent on her approval and affection and she manipulates me by hoarding her touch and withdrawing into her moods. In my story, I can’t stop myself from giving her intrusive answers and solutions that will stop her from being angry at me. I can’t control myself and I blame her. My case against her perpetuates my impulsive temper tantrum and I feel locked in this cycle. ‘She made me do it,’ I keep saying to myself and I know she didn’t.”

            “I have magic to offer here,” I said. “It makes no logical sense. You won’t believe that it works, but do you remember how when you apologized and let shame possess you, you emerged feeling proud and honorable, cleansed and strengthened?”

            “Yes, that was magic,” John said.

            “This is too,” I said. “So here it is, my alchemy version of a golden key that unlocks your prison of fear. Will you let me guide you to that place?”

            “Yes,” they said.

            “Okay, stop focusing on the other and see if you can find a sad, very sad, memory that has nothing to do with your partner or the relationship.”

            They both glanced up and to the left as if trying to pull down a memory. Then their faces drooped and tears filled their eyes.

            “Enough,” I said. “Sadness is the magic potion. And you just drank it.”

            “I remembered the time,” Jane said, “when I was captain of the cheerleaders and I fell from the top of a human pyramid and sprained by ankle. I couldn’t cheer anymore. I was so sad. I had lost my world.”

            “I remembered,” John said, “when my friend’s father took us camping and he had a heart attack on the trail and he died in my arms. I felt so helpless.”

            “Are you angry?” I asked.

            “No,” they said.

            “Are you frightened,” I asked.

            “No,” again.

            “The sadness neurohormones have replaced the fear and anger neurohormones,” I said. “You are free to feel another emotion. Can you feel compassion for yourselves as that once frightened lost child? Can you let go of striving to influence, persuade or control?”

            “Yes,” Jane answered. “I’m also sad for my friend who took my place on the cheerleading squad and ashamed of how I treated her because I resented her. I’m sad for John. He, too, is the victim of my moods.”

            “I’m sad for myself feeling so helpless,” John said. “And I’m sad for my friend who lost his dad. And I’ve been trying to make things right since then for the world, for everyone, and for Jane too. I don’t know how or what to do but I feel like I have to do something to fix it and I can’t.”

            “Now,” I said, “Look at each other. How do you feel about him, Jane and her, John?”

            “I’m sad for him,” Jane said.

            “I feel close to her,” John said. “I’m not afraid she finds me disgusting. I don’t have anything to fix in her. She’s just fine the way she is. I don’t want her to go, but she always comes back. Right now, I’m not so afraid.”

            “This minute,” Jane said, “I know John, you are a good man, sometimes a stupid man, but a good man and you love me. I don’t know why, but you do. Sitting here looking at you in the sad place, I see life hurts you, too. Sadness helps me see you clearly and love you.”

            They hugged each other and cried together.             

            “We’re both afraid of the same thing,” John said, “just in different ways.”

            “Yes, we are,” Jane said.

            Sadness, one of the emotions we try to avoid, is magic. It is essential water for the growth of intimacy. It is messy. It relieves us of ambition and striving for mastery or control. It is soft, slow and sweet. It is more of a puddle than a tower. With sadness we can co-mingle and collaborate. We can be touched and held.

            I’m sure that Jesus, Mohammad, John Smith, Confucius, and perhaps Carl Rogers knew of this alchemy. I’m sure they understood the futility and pain of control fights. But I didn’t’ until Jane and John put on their demonstration for me. I knew sadness was magic and that it cleansed the mind’s palate of anger, but it also does the same for fear.

            Sure, we knew that meditation and relaxation relieve us from the tension of anger and fear, but meditation does not necessarily resolve these feelings. They can easily return, but sadness cleanses and opens our hearts to feel compassion.

            Rarely do we consider the dark side of hope or desire or the arrogance, cruelty and denial, which are parts of joy. How often do we yearn to be wrong and to walk toward our mistakes and feel the brand it burns into our hearts transforming us forever? Do we see any need to confine our disgust and the righteousness it facilitates with some form of discipline or personal government? Where is our personal constitution, balance of power and respect for human rights?

            How much energy do we waste justifying our tit-for-tat anger? How many ways do we indulge our fears to build cases against others and ironically build prisons and freezers for ourselves?

            These are the questions of the alchemist. The alchemist miracles don’t come from the form and content of things and wealth. The alchemist’s magic comes from process and properly placing one emotion next to the other. Their primary task is to protect the process so that people can be their authentic selves, feel and express their feelings in a safe loving context without hurting themselves or others.

            I have written about eight of the nine emotions, anger, fear, sadness, shame, joy, disgust, desire and relaxation or the trance. The emotion which I have not mentioned is the emotion of surprise. This is the engine behind awe, wonder and mystery. This not-knowing emotion can paralyze and it can invite wonder.

            Many of you may have known this discovery. Perhaps my adventure in alchemy is like my six-year-old self following the trail in the ravine behind my grandparent’s house. It felt like I was the first man to follow these ancient animal trails. That’s how I feel today as I write this. This is how I often feel in my work when I observe the miracle of reconciliation and personal transformation that happen some days in my practice. What a privilege it is to observe alchemy in action. We therapists are blessed.