Shirley Jackson has a way of capturing those sly turns of mind, those darker moments, however fleeting, that betray her characters. I don’t read many ghost stories, but as Halloween approaches, I’m reminded of two exceptions I made: Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House (1959) and Sarah Waters’ The Little Stranger (2009). Of course, it’s never the ghosts that are interesting, but what we learn about human behaviour. In the earlier novel, the house infects the character Eleanor Vance, who begins by making friends and enjoying the company of others, only to turn increasingly spiteful. By the end Eleanor is no longer in control of her actions (though she believes herself to be) and in one lucid moment ‘she thought clearly, Why am I doing this?’ It’s too late by that point of course, the damage is done. Her behaviours have been driven by something external to herself, consuming completely her internal self. It doesn’t take a ghost for this to happen in our own lives. When we’re in a state of reactivity, lashing out, snapping, or dealing with difficult thoughts – we might ask ‘Who’s driving? Who’s in control here?’
We are all subject to unhelpful voices, this might be the internalised voices of caregivers or the very loud messages of a society inclined to make strong judgements about success, health, beauty, worth – in short pretty much everything. It’s easy for these voices to drive our behaviours without us even realising. For example, ever taken on too much because you’re constantly trying to keep up with where you think you should be? Because you’re competing with others? Because it will make you ‘fit in’ better? Ever taken on too little and shied away from challenges because you feel you’re not good enough? Because that’s ‘not for you’, or because of fear of failure?
In Hill House, Dr Montague who is searching for paranormal activity advises his participants ‘the menace of the supernatural is that it attacks where modern minds are weakest’. Similarly, Hundreds Hall, the haunted house of The Little Stranger, ‘knows all our weaknesses and is testing them, one by one’. Both novels feature embittered characters – so deeply so that they can’t recognise it in themselves at all. Eleanor is more susceptible to the ghosts of Hill House, perhaps because she has something in common with them, and once something of the ghost has been taken in unchecked, she quickly spirals. In the later novel, the narrator Dr Faraday is also more susceptible to the ‘germ’ of the house. His woeful lack of self-knowledge also has devastating consequences. Truth for him, even at the end of the novel is kept at the very edge of his peripheral vision. His distorted reflection is left ‘baffled and longing’, like the hungry ghosts of the houses in the two novels, and like the parts of ourselves that we might be able to relate to – the parts that are always wanting something more, and are never satisfied.
When we are emotionally reactive we might ask – what nerve has been touched? If we are bothered by someone else’s actions or words, we can start by focusing on what’s going on for ourselves, what feelings are here? And what’s underneath that? And dropping further still? It might be surprising how often a feeling of ‘I’m not good enough’ is here under all the other layers. One of the key elements in learning self-compassion is recognising ‘that suffering and personal inadequacy is part of the shared human experience’ (Neff). Harmful or discriminatory behaviours in others need to be addressed of course, but where the ordinary irritations of people stress are concerned, taking the time to check in with ourselves first can help us know ourselves better, and then to choose the best course of action.
Eleanor’s moment of insight ‘Why am I doing this’ comes too late, and Dr Faraday’s moment never comes at all. If we’re uncomfortable with or doubting our own behaviours , maybe that’s overworking, socialising when we don’t want to, or withdrawing from others, we need only ask ‘Why am I doing this?’ Being clear about our motivations and where they are coming from means we know who is driving. So ask, regularly ‘Why am I doing this?’. If there’s no clear or supportive answer, that might be a sign to take the time to re-evaluate.
P.S The Netflix adaptation of Hill House is a completely different beast to the novel, and a full-on horror fest. Avoid!
