Help! I’ve Made A Frankenstein’s Monster
June 3, 2013
My neighbor Frank is young, successful, and good-looking. He drives a nice car, has a lovely condo, good friends. You’d expect he should be happy, care-free and content? But no. The other day he was parking his car in our building’s underground when he noticed a room he did not recognize. Has this been newly installed, he thought? The door was painted green and appeared to have a peep hole at the centre of it. Very strange.
As he lay in bed that night he just could not fall asleep. What was in the room? Why is it there all of a sudden? Who uses it?
The next morning, on his way to work, he pulled out his cellphone and snapped a few pictures of it. He showed the pictures to a few of the neighbours but none of us offered any explanations that satiated him. “Why don’t you ask the front desk, Frank?” we said. Frank couldn’t do that, for he suspected the purpose of the room was nefarious. We shrugged our shoulders and carried on with our lives. But not Frank.
He has decided that the room is a secret bar used by our building’s management, all of course on the residents’ dime. Seriously, that is what he believes. He is quiet sane otherwise, but this conspiracy theory has really robbed him of his sense. He has now made it his mission to expose management’s dirty little secret. He brought it up at the Annual General Meeting in front of most of the building’s residents. Oh we snickered and mocked, but Frank kept grilling the management as though he were Jimmy Stewart determined to get at the truth.
While his plight is amusing, sadly he is not alone. Everyone of us at some time or other finds we are taken over by an idea. An idea entirely fabricated by our imagination. An idea that is preposterous to others, but it is an indelible truth as far as we are concerned. It is idiomatically known as making a Frankenstein’s Monster. And just as the monster the Dr. Frankenstein created got out of control and destroyed its creator, we saw Frank being overwhelmed and undermined by his own fabrication. It reminded me of those feelings from when I was student.
There was one teacher I was convinced hated and loathed me. I was used to being the teacher’s pet so I was very unsettled at this idea. This teacher was extra strict with me. I was chided for the most minor transgressions. Other students would stroll in late and he would say nothing. I was late the once and he walked out of the class “because if no one is interested I will not waste my time.” I took it all very personally. It caused me untold distress. I found it hard to concentrate on the subject during his class. All I could think about was, ‘why does he hate me?”
It took me years to understand that he never hated me, nor disliked me. I had been such a model pupil that he found my transgressions less tolerable than those of the lost causes. In affect, he was biased towards me. He saw my strengths as punctuality, doing the right thing, never making waves. The other students had other strengths but these were mine and it distressed him to see me neglect them. I could have had a happier time in his class had I not created that Frankenstein’s Monster. Monsters are always scary to the point they leave you unable to function. When that monster is of your creation, it is particularly unfortunate. My grades suffered, I was deeply unhappy, I felt falling sick. It was a monster indeed.
None of us are immune. I know of a woman whose marriage ended because she suspected her husband was cheating on her. It turns out he wasn’t but her paranoia drove a wedge in the marriage nevertheless. I now wonder what is the engine driving this process? Is it perhaps a type of vanity? Underneath that paranoia is a notion of uniqueness. That I know something no one else was smart enough to figure out. I am being singled out for unfair (special) treatment. That zeal to unmask the conspiracy is really the veracity of pride, with its subliminal sense of self-superiority. Secret liquor rooms, hateful teachers, unfaithful spouses, the conspiracies may be many, but the outcome is always the same. We end up defeated, humiliated, and drained of energy.
It is impossible to ever be free of them, nor is it desirable. You could be right: there might actually be a liquor stash, a bigoted teacher, a cheating spouse. But what is possible is to learn from these past episodes. Having gone through that one years ago has made me vigilant to them. Now I question their validity more stringently. I see them more objectively. For that I am grateful to that teacher.