WHO IS TYLER DURDEN? The Confessions of an Addict

In the movie Fight Club, almost half of the film shows the main character, Jack hiding in the shadow of Tyler Durden, the alpha male of all fight clubs. It shows the transformation of the narrator’s life, showing how he changed as Tyler guided him into letting go of fear, pain and loss. Tyler was his liberator. At the end of the film however it was revealed that Tyler was none other but his alter ego. It was he who had done all the things Tyler did. Indeed, he was just a pigment of the narrator’s imagination…or was he?

Certainly he was as real as the narrator made us believe. He might not be as substantial as true flesh, but in spirit he was alive. He was as real as the narrator was; in fact he was a significant part of him. It is so because it was inevitable for him to express what the conscious mind avoided to acknowledge, and Tyler was the product of this suppression.

Jack hated his life, his job, the world and his empty house. He hated consumerism because he was a slave to it. He could not break free from these things. He was alone. He couldn’t sleep; he had no peace. He doesn’t know how to fill up his empty life. And so, he resorted to addiction: first was his addiction to buying furniture in order to fill up the space around him, then his addiction to therapy, and lastly his addiction to fighting.

But his emotions could not be suppressed – those which he hated surrounded him everyday. Thus his alter ego had to move for him: Tyler took form. He acted the way the narrator could not. He was stronger, smarter, and more handsome. Tyler overcame the true self, doing things the other wanted but could not do. Tyler was the center; Jack – a mere shadow following around his own creation.

Interestingly, I understood the Jack. I’ve watched this in Oprah so many times. They feature different kinds of people with different kinds of addiction: drug, shoplifting, sex, gambling and even plastic surgery addiction. Then guest psychologists and experts would announce that these people resorted to these not primarily for the adrenaline rush, but as a way of evading the bigger issues in their lives. Eventually, these people ended up leading double lives and going through great depression.

Young as I am, I know depression very well. I could not remember when it started exactly, but I know that somewhere in my life I learned to hate myself so much I wanted everybody else to like me – if not love me – in order to replace the love I can not give myself. Why? Perhaps because of my insecurities, or may be because I knew I wasn’t a movie star, a model or a superhero just like I wanted to be. I felt weak and became a shadow of my dreams.

What was amusing though was that in my heart I knew I was lying. I did love myself, I just didn’t know how to express it. What I did know however was that I wanted everyone’s approval. I had to be good and agreeable at least if I were not going to be a princess in a fairy tale. Perhaps in gaining people’s smiles I would feel good about myself. However each smile wasn’t enough; they were meaningless because I knew they smiled out of respect. I couldn’t blame them – I had no substance to offer because I was empty just like Jack. And so I started my addiction: I buried myself in motion.

I attended every activity there was to attend. I busied myself. I couldn’t stop moving. Constantly I flew from branch to branch, seeking shelter where I knew I would find only temporary lodging. I thought that perhaps in my flight I would find myself or at least someone who’d accompany me in my journey.

Eventually I got tired of it all. Then in one of the branches I landed on, I met someone: a mentor in every sense of the word: He lived his life in extremes, spoke with wisdom, moved with precision, loved generously; and everything he knew he would tell everyone willing to listen and learn. One day he saw me sitting alone, away from the disorder of everyone else. He praised me and said, “In stillness there is stability.”

Never had my defenses been so overtaken. I felt like he mocked me. I was still because I was planning on my next move, not because I was stable. He saw through my pretenses. I was a fraud. He broke down the wall I put up around me. At that moment I realized that I wasn’t flying; I was fleeing. I was afraid of accepting my faults and so I couldn’t fill myself up with strengths. I wanted other people to shower me with merits and praises so that I would feel better about myself that I forgot that the air could not carry me if my wings were not free to move. Indeed I was carrying a burden too heavy: my insecurities. It was myself after all I was running from, and I could not find peace because there was no place to hide. The only way I could have a home is when I establish my feet on the ground first.

I dug deep. It was hard. I would have to dig up everything I buried and plant my roots among the sorrows that make my lands rich. Eventually I learned to accept myself. I looked in the mirror smiling, thinking to myself how wonderful my world could be, if only I would cultivate it properly. I held my pains and used them to make myself better. What I once despised in myself now serve as the waters in my rivers, the waters that make my leaves green.

WORKS CITED:

Fight Club. DVD. Dir. David Fincher. Perf. Brad Pitt, Edward Norton. Art Linson Productions, 1999.