Relational Usury

There’s no point in objectifying if you’re not going to

use the object.

In fact, I suggest that objectification and use go hand-in-hand. That is, we don’t objectify unless we need an object to use. (All this usually happens unconsciously and automatically, of course.)

(And pretty much constantly.)

Because, heck, all of us need to use objects now and then.

A few examples:

I’m a child, and I look up to my teacher, who represents qualities I admire. I use her as (what I call) a statue on a pedestal: I watch her, imitate her, see her as all good, find comfort in her, become like her. Over time and through a healthy relationship, I can internalize those qualities and make them my own. And I can begin to see my teacher as good and bad, possibly even as disappointing. If all goes well, I can survive those feelings and successfully relate to my teacher (and ultimately others) as a full human being.

I have used my teacher well.

I’m an adult. I’m distressed. While my husband is cooking dinner, I talk out what is bothering me. Because he is practiced at this, he has decided whether and how to be used by me (whether? yes. how? listen patiently and ask questions). I’ve turned him into an ear (and he has tacitly agreed to be one). He listens and offers solace, wonders with me, helps me think through my dilemma.

I have used my husband well.

I’m an adult (still). I’m driving down the road and someone pulls right in front of me and moves along at a solid 10 mph below the speed limit. (You know this is a true story.) (But so is the one about my husband.) (And so is the one about the child!) In the blessed privacy of my car, I gnash my teeth, rend my garments, and swear like a sailor. I turn that driver into a punching bag.

AND I make a deliberate decision not to act out on that hapless driver. I slow down so I’m not tailgating (an automotive equivalent to Thich Nhat Hanh’s wisdom about smiling). Instead, I turn my attention inward to figure out where that rage (and anxiety) is coming from. (Oh! I guess it’s my fault that I gave myself only 2 minutes to travel 10 miles to a doctor’s appointment.)

I have used the driver well.

My point here is that all of us use people for different reasons. Children have developmental needs that require parental and teacher objects. No way around it.

Adults also have developmental needs that require patient, compassionate, honest objects. When the going gets tough, even the toughest (maybe especially the toughest) make assumptions about each other, act out on each other, put their own needs above others’ — use people — on a regular basis. Normal. And, by the way,

repairable.

Noticing how we use others, being told by others how we’re objectifying and using them, telling others how they’re objectifying and using us — these are ways of initiating the corrective action that makes us better people. Even if you feel weird saying,

“Hey! Quit using me!”

you can still notice when it’s happening. Sometimes just noticing makes a big difference in relationships.

Pause.

But none of this is what this blog post is about.

This blog post is about usury. Which is a different situation altogether.

What I call usury is when Person 1 uses Person 2 mercilessly. Erases Person 2 and fights body and soul when Person 2 tries to show up, when Person 2 tries to assert their right to exist. Person 1 is usurious when they bully, ignore, co-opt, control, define, attack Person 2. Solely for Person 1’s purposes. Denies Person 2’s humanity, pins Person 2 to the wall as the object Person 1 needs Person 2 to be.

Relational usury is when Person 1 crushes the Third. And grinds it into the ground. Without an iota of concern or empathy or regret. Relational usury is when Person 1 collects way more interest from a human being than they’re anywhere near entitled to.

Remind you of anyone you know? (Don’t stop there. Think about people in your personal life, your professional life. Not just our national life.)

It seems to me that relational usury is happening more frequently these days. It is a form of uncontained, narcissistic acting out that seems to have become normalized. And

that’s a problem.

Next up: How usurious narcissism works.

Mantra: May I use my objects well — by being conscious of my feelings, containing them responsibly, and cultivating my self-knowledge and best self.