The Psychology of Dexter - Bella DePaulo [51]
These elements of attachment may seem silly and simplistic, but research on the subject of attachment and personality development, including Daniel Siegel’s in The Mindful Brain, suggests that a strong, secure attachment experience can completely change an individual for the better. It can be the difference between a productive, fulfilling, and moral life, and one of wasted talent, ineptitude, and misery. According to this literature, however, in order for the attachment process to significantly affect personality development, a minimal mother-child bond must exist during a specific “critical” developmental period in early childhood. In Dexter’s case, the interesting question of “too little, too late” arises. He received from Camilla exactly what a child receives in a healthy attachment process, but he did so as a fully formed adult in the short but intense period of her hospitalization and death. Although Dexter’s learning environment was far from ideal, he seemed to fully commit to Camilla, appearing at her bedside with consistency and forcing himself to feel the vulnerable feelings of despair as her condition worsened.
Debra: The Better Half
As his second brightest angel, Debra props Dexter up, literally and figuratively. Dexter’s self-esteem is in the basement. He is surprised by every compliment Debra gives him—his eyebrows raise with incredulity every time she expresses her appreciation that he is such an awesome big brother—and he operates from the assumption that he is an outcast and that his friendships are not legitimate. The “devil” voices have worked him over pretty good. He needs someone to restore his belief in himself, and Debra’s defining feature—her evolution from self-flagellating street cop into resilient detective—serves this purpose admirably.
When we met Debra in season one she was working undercover as a prostitute. This “disguise” was also symbolic. Like the stereotypical prostitute archetype, Debra was vivacious and over-the-top profane. She was filled with insecurity, dated a revolving door of tattooed losers, and failed to play the political games at work to the point of self-sabotage. Over the course of the four seasons that followed, she evolved tremendously. Her judgment in bed vastly improved (at least after the manipulative “Rudy”). She dated Lundy, a famed serial killer hunter, who helped her access peace and tranquility, and then a laid-back musician, who loved her for exactly who she is. Her professional gains have been even more significant. By season three Debra had transformed into the kind of serial killer hunter that Lundy could be proud of, and that Dexter feared would beat him to the bad guys. Everything about her persona screams “detective,” from her dry-cleaned button-down shirts to her tenacity in the interrogation room to her tendency to drown herself in boxes of evidence. She’s like a gladiator preparing for battle.
Now, how does this very Debra-specific evolution positively impact Dexter? First, Debra changes the meaning of what it means to be a “Morgan.” They are both Morgans—the beneficiaries of a dysfunctional psychological will bequeathed by Harry. They both struggle to identify and express their emotions, to trust others, and, most importantly, to view themselves without distortion. Early on, Debra viewed herself as worthless, undeserving of her father’s love. For instance, early in season one Debra developed some decent leads related to the Ice Truck Killer case but Lieutenant LaGuerta