Exploring Shrine Building

And Opposite to Emotion Action, too.

I recently started reading Esther Perel’s The State of Affairs: Rethinking Infidelity. (And, before you ask, no, I’m not having an affair, and no, Jeremiah isn’t either. I’m simply reading an interesting book on a taboo topic, thank you very much.)

I’ve always liked Esther Perel. There’s something about her French-sounding lilt that’s warm, generous, and refreshingly frank. Her insight is sharp, astute, and immensely intelligent. Listening to her — or watching her Ted Talk(s) or reading her books — makes you feel as though she is speaking directly to the heart of the matter — the heart of your matter — whether you’re currently experiencing the subject or not.

I first learned of Perel from her podcast, Where Should We Begin? On it, she counsels real couples as they work through their most intimate, confidential, and personal issues. It’s a deep, nuanced, messy, and illuminating podcast — it makes you feel both deeply seen and glad you’re not one of its guests. It’s akin to a reality tv show, except when you’re finished listening, you’re like, “Why am I crying in the club right now???” All that is to say that I was drawn to The State of Affairs in the same way that I was drawn to Perel’s podcasts: I’m curious about the inner workings of other people’s lives, especially when it comes to romantic love. (Another word for this is “nosey”).

What I most appreciate about The State of Affairs is that Perel leaves room to discuss the nuanced and transformative nature of an earth-shattering experience. In her introduction, she writes: “This is not just a book about infidelity. Affairs have a lot to teach us about relationships — what we expect, what we think we want, and what we feel entitled to.”

A prime example of this takes place midway through the book: Perel introduces us to Nigel and Polly, a couple, married for nearly 3 decades, that is reeling from the revelation of an affair. Polly learns that Nigel was involved with a woman named Clarissa — “a voluptuous thirty-five-year old Spanish bartender with big boobs and an accent” — and she is devastated, jealous, deeply wounded, and, unexpectedly, aroused. She tells Esther that after the affair, their sex life has become “frantic, ardent, and urgent” and that “obsessively imagining the lovers’ entwined bodies is itself an unexpected aphrodisiac.”

Oh, okay.

This all culminates in Esther offering some…interesting advice. She writes:

“An idea occurs to me — one that is unconventional, to say the least, but might just give Polly the kind of relief she is seeking. ‘Let’s take this a step further,’ I tell them. ‘Maybe, instead of banishing Clarissa, you should memorialize her. Imagine building an altar to this woman to express your gratitude for all the good she did for you. And every morning before you leave the house, take a moment to bow and give thanks for your most improbable benefactor.’

I have no way of knowing if this rather subversive suggestion will free Polly from her predicament. But I know what I am after: giving her back her power. In clinical parlance, this kind of homeopathic intervention is called prescribing the symptom. Since symptoms are involuntary, we can’t erase them, but if we prescribe them, we can take control. In addition, staging a ritual gives new meaning to an old suffering. And the twist here is that the perpetrator becomes the liberator.

…Clearly this kind of approach is not for everyone. But I have seen it work more often than I ever expected.”

This intrigued me in an “Esther, have you lost your damn mind????” kind of way. I scribbled “prescribing the symptom - shrine???” on a sticky note and kept it moving.

Until I remembered my most recent Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT) class and the new skill we just learned: Opposite to Emotion Action.

Here’s the gist: when we are overwhelmed by our emotions, we often respond in ways that improve our mood in the short-term, but are ineffective in the long-term. For example, if we feel anxious about an upcoming work project, we’ll procrastinate on it. This provides short-term relief — yay! no work! — but ultimately gives the emotion more fuel for the next time it pops up. Our initial avoidance teaches our brain, “This is something extremely anxiety-inducing that should be avoided at all costs!!!” And as a result, a few days later, when the project can’t be avoided any longer, we’re thrown into an amplified state of anxiety; we experience both the actual emotion and overwhelm at now having to address it head-on.

(Another way I like to think about this is that many of us put our emotions away for “later”. I imagine myself gently tucking my anxiety into my pocket. “I’ll come back for you soon, I promise!” I say as I happily go about my day. Meanwhile, anxiety is festering in there. Anxiety is throwing a party — it’s having a rave in there with glow sticks and ecstasy. There’s trash everywhere and the floors are sticky. And when the time comes for me to take it back out of my pocket? BLARING MUSIC!!! HOT SWEATY ATMOSPHERE!!! MUSK!! OVERWHELM!!)

Enter: Opposite to Emotion Action, or, the practice of doing the complete opposite of what your emotions are urging you to do. It’s counterintuitive, uncomfortable, frustrating, and…surprisingly effective.* Take the example from above: when we feel anxious, we want to avoid the trigger by procrastinating. Opposite to Emotion Action (OEA) asks us to approach and directly address the trigger, despite how we feel. It’s the same with feeling depressed — naturally, we want to isolate, stay in bed, and think about sad things — but OEA means that we get out of bed and reach out to our social supports even if we REALLY don’t want to. OEA asks us to let go of our ineffective, visceral responses to emotions, and instead dive headfirst into discomfort because it is more beneficial to us in the long term.

Opposite to Emotion Action is the intentional and deliberate choice to act opposite of your emotional urge(s).

Back to Ester Perel.

Her suggestion to Polly is basically OEA. Polly expresses her anger and hurt and jealousy in the usual short-term ways — raging, obsessing, yelling, crying — yet this does nothing to relieve her of her pain. So Perel tells her to do the opposite of what her emotions want her to do — Polly must thank the seductress; thank her for the ways she was the catalyst toward more open and honest conversations; thank her for helping Polly remember her “frantic, ardent, and urgent” love for her husband. It seems gross, especially in a context like this, but at its heart is the idea that we can’t let our extreme emotions (however valid) control our lives.

Perel continues with this train of thought, writing:

“Anger is an analgesic that temporarily numbers the pain and an amphetamine that provides a surge of energy and confidence. More biology than psychology, anger temporarily eases loss, self-doubt, and powerlessness. While it can at time be a positive motivator, as psychologist Steven Stosny cautions, ‘Bouts of anger and resentment always drop you down lower than the point at which they picked you up.’”

While Perel’s shrine advice is definitely an unconventional take, it also correctly points out that anger rarely serves us. We can find ways to “turn the page” on certain chapters, traumas, and experiences in our lives. We do have the capacity and agency to take back our power and release the limiting beliefs that haunt us. And we can flip our own narrative, rewriting ourselves as the hero rather than the victim.

Since reading The State of Affairs, I’ve thought more and more about shrine building. While there is absolutely no way in hell I would ever build a physical shrine to my enemies, I can build a theoretical one. Aren’t we building shrines when we pray for our enemies (or pray for the strength to want to pray for them)? Aren’t we building shrines when we go to therapy, turn inward, and heal the parts of us that our enemy brought to the light? Aren’t we building shrines as we journal, pouring our emotions on the page, and stepping into a lighter state of being? Aren’t we building shrines when, years later, we talk about the toxic event that actually taught us more about ourselves than any other we’ve experienced? It’s an off-kilter way of thinking about it all, but it stretches your mind in an interesting way, doesn’t it?

I would never recommend thinking about only the positive qualities of your enemies, but I would recommend deeply reflecting on how you’ve grown because of a hurtful experience. By engaging in Opposite to Emotion Action, we can look dead into the face of our enemies and say: Thank you. You tried to hurt me, yet it’s only increased my state of gratitude and ability to heal. I’m a better person and I love myself more because of the way you stripped away my defenses. I think about you less and less as the days go by, yet my internal strength grows ever-brighter. Thank you for hurting me — it ignited my desire to be the best version of myself that I can be.

What’s more powerful than that?

Until next Wednesday — xx,

*Author’s Note: OAE does not feel great in the short term. You’ll 100% feel uncomfortable and like shit for awhile. Just trust the process and keep going!!