Revelling in them hard done by blues

THAT'S MEN: Poor me syndrome is a real Irish guilty pleasure

ON A FLIGHT from New York a few years ago I was annoyed when I was told I couldn’t buy a drink because the bar was closed.

The senior cabin crew person had decided to close the bar early, I was informed by an air hostess. (Are you still allowed to call them that? Probably not.) She had a look that hinted there was no point in seeking a rational explanation for this action on the part of this person.

I returned to my seat feeling very hard done by because I “like a drink”, as we say in Ireland.

The can of Coca-Cola she tried to sell me instead just didn’t help.

At some stage I decided to check in with what I was feeling physically and I found, to my surprise, my physical/emotional feeling was good, even pleasurable.

In other words, my head wanted a drink and was angry Aer Lingus had blocked the aisles for so long selling stuff from its catalogue that I missed out on the booze I had hoped would shorten the flight; but my gut feeling was one of pleasure.

What was going on? I think the explanation might lie somewhere in what I call “poor me syndrome”. This syndrome is one which, I imagine, we all recognise.

The essence of this syndrome lies in deriving satisfaction from feeling done down while failing to recognise this fact.

It’s another example of how we human beings appear to be designed to have contradictory processes running in parallel. Scoffing a large chocolate bar while berating yourself for scoffing a large chocolate bar is a simple example of this aspect of human behaviour.

But how could anyone derive pleasure out of that “poor me” state? Have you ever noticed the little tinge of satisfaction somewhere down there in your stomach when you’re feeling sorry for yourself? Why would you feel that?

My theory is I enjoy a spot of martyrdom because it puts me at the centre of the universe.

Thousands of years of scientific, commercial and social advance had to happen for that Aer Lingus plane to carry me across the Atlantic.

Innumerable processes had to converge to make this specific flight possible.

In all of this, I was insignificant. This flight would have taken place regardless of whether I was on the plane – indeed, regardless of whether I even existed.

Then they go and shut the bar early. Suddenly it’s all about me. I am no longer insignificant: I, personally, have been deprived of a drink. They can parade up and down as elegantly as they like in their green uniforms, they can fly the plane as safely as they like – my right to drink has been taken away from me by an act of injustice. That is what matters.

See? I’m right there at the centre of the universe. The scientist Jean Piaget concluded babies believe they are the cause of events that happen around them.

As time goes on they begin to learn that this is not true and gradually the “egocentric” stage, as he called it, comes to an end.

But maybe we never really lose it. Maybe there is always that part of our mentality that puts us at the very centre of all that happens – and maybe that part is in the primitive gut and not in the thinking part of the brain.

So you wonder if that group of people over there by the office door are talking about you.

Your thinking brain wishes they weren’t. But that egocentric baby in you says: Of course they’re talking about me. Sure who else would they be talking about?

So next time you start slipping into “poor me” thinking, check in with your gut and see if you’re enjoying the whole experience much more than you would ever care to admit.

Padraig O’Morain (pomorain@ireland.com) is a counsellor accredited by the Irish Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy. His book, Light Mind – Mindfulness for Daily Living, is published by Veritas. His monthly mindfulness newsletter is free by email