Читать книгу Everyday Narcissism - Nancy Van Dyken - Страница 17
Оглавление“I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within. It is there all the time.”
Anna Freud
We’re all born narcissistic. This is a good thing. When we’re very small, the world is supposed to revolve around us and our physical, psychological, and emotional needs. Up until about age two, a child needs to be the center of their parents’ world.
If, as kids, our needs are regularly met year after year, we feel physically safe and unconditionally loved and confident. When we reach adulthood, we are physically and emotionally ready for the world and free of any EN. Yet this is generally not what children experience. Instead, most of us grow up emotionally wounded. Our psyches are bathed in EN, and we are surrounded by people who also suffer from EN.
As children, we each have a host of physical, spiritual, and emotional needs. These range from food, shelter, clothing, and safety to feeling counted, heard, believed, comforted, and valued. When we’re young, we are wounded each time one of our physical and emotional needs is not met. As children, most of us are wounded often in this way.
Please note that I’m talking about needs, not wants. As children, we may want to go swimming; however, we need to be fed. Not always getting what we want—and learning to handle the disappointment we feel in response—are important parts of growing up. However, being dismissed or discounted or ignored does wound us.
Many of these wounds are both commonplace and invisible to adults. For example, a first grader tells her mother that she wants to wear her hair in braids. However, her mother insists that she wear a ponytail. A third grader wants to play soccer, while his father, who played baseball, insists that his son do the same. In both cases, the children don’t feel heard, counted, or valued.
Parents are generally unaware of how and when they inflict these wounds. They are simply repeating the patterns they experienced when they were younger.
To help you see how commonplace these wounds are, and how small we are when they begin to affect us, let’s look at two more detailed examples.
BOBBY AND HIS FATHER
Bobby’s parents, Ned and Michele, are getting him ready for a party for his first birthday. Both his parents are excited. Bobby doesn’t understand much of what is going on, yet he sees there is a cake in the shape of a car, and he likes cake. People are hanging decorations, and his father is dressing him in a special outfit.
Soon his relatives start to arrive, and everyone starts to make a fuss over him. At first Bobby enjoys this. Then more and more people arrive. The house gets louder and louder and more and more crowded.
Bobby starts to feel uneasy and a little frightened by all the commotion and attention. He starts to cry. He looks around and sees his grandfather, whom he adores. He points to his grandfather and says, “I want to go to Grandpa!”
Bobby’s father Ned is disappointed and upset. He and Michele planned this party for weeks. He is excited to present his son to the crowd and show everyone how great Bobby is. Now his son doesn’t even want to be with him and wants to be with his grandpa instead. Plus, Bobby’s crying is interrupting Ned’s plans to show him off.
Ned tells his son, “Settle down, Bobby. Everything is okay. You’re fine. It’s a party. We’re all here to have fun.”
Yet Bobby doesn’t feel that everything is fine. He insists on what he wants, what will help him feel good: being with Grandpa.
Begrudgingly, because he is feeling the pressure of Myth 2, Ned hands his son to Grandpa. Bobby feels his father’s disapproval. He knows he’s not doing what he is supposed to do: please his father (and follow Myth 1).
Neither Bobby nor Ned can recall this incident today. Nevertheless, on that day Bobby began to learn a lesson that would be repeated many more times throughout his childhood: he is expected to stifle his own wants and needs (Myth 3) and, instead, take care of his father (Myth 1).
It’s normal and healthy for Ned to be proud of his son and for Bobby’s parents to throw him a party and want to show him off to the relatives. However, when Ned made it Bobby’s job to make Ned proud and happy, this was Ned’s EN at work.
Ned carried his own childhood wounds inside him. He was the oldest of four children raised by a divorced, single mother who worked two jobs and was often exhausted. As a result, Ned’s needs routinely weren’t met. This wasn’t because his mother was unloving; she was simply overwhelmed. Ned grew up feeling that his own needs and desires often didn’t count (Myth 3). Bobby’s behavior triggered in Ned that old pain of not counting. In his annoyance and anger (Myth 2), Ned unwittingly passed on a bit of his EN to his son.
Ned and Michele are loving and reasonably functional parents. As with most of us, though, EN has become part of who they are, how they make their way in the world, and how they raise their son.
This one event won’t harm Bobby that much. The problem is that similar events will occur over and over, year after year, and no one—not Ned, or Michele, or Bobby—will recognize how the myths, the principles, and the pain of EN are being passed on from one generation to the next.
KYOKO, HER MOTHER, AND HER GRANDMOTHER
Two-year-old Kyoko and her mother Ayami are visiting Kyoko’s grandmother Mika on a hot summer afternoon. While Kyoko is busy playing with a doll and her mom is in the bathroom, her grandma suddenly picks up Kyoko and hugs her tightly.
Kyoko doesn’t want her play to be interrupted. She is also hot and sweaty and doesn’t want to be hugged tightly by anyone right now. So she tries to push herself away. In response, her grandma holds her tighter and says, “You’re so cute! You’re a perfect little doll!”
Trying to escape, and angry at how her grandma is treating her, Kyoko grabs the string of pearls from around her grandmother’s neck and pulls on them. The necklace breaks, sending pearls scattering everywhere.
Kyoko’s grandmother sets her down on the sofa and says angrily, “Shame on you! Look what you’ve done!” (Myth 2)
Ayami enters the room a moment later, sees the pearls all over the floor, kneels to pick them up, and acts out Myth 1.
Mika says to her daughter, “You need to teach your little one some manners!”
Ayami looks up at her daughter and says, “Honey, you need to be more careful. Look at the mess you made.” Here she expresses and reinforces Myth 2. Now both adults are holding a two-year-old responsible for their unhappiness. This helps to teach the child Myth 1.
Kyoko can barely speak in sentences, let alone articulate her needs. When her grandmother forced her into an unwanted hug, Kyoko responded in a very appropriate way for a two-year-old, by trying to separate her body from her grandmother’s. She clearly and honestly expressed her emotions and desires.
Kyoko’s grandmother ignores this and does only what she wants. Understandably, Kyoko feels angry—and expresses that anger. Wouldn’t you feel angry if someone hugged you against your will?
Then Kyoko’s grandmother tells her that she did something wrong and shameful. A few seconds later, her mother also reprimands Kyoko for doing the wrong thing. Yet no one cares to understand Kyoko’s actions. (This is Myth 3 in action.)
Although she is too young to name or understand her own emotions, Kyoko feels judged, rejected, shamed, overlooked, and alone.
Mika and Ayami are not bad people. They both love Kyoko and they both love each other. Neither one wants to harm Kyoko. Yet they both send Kyoko powerful messages that begin to embed the following myths in her:
Myth 1: Kyoko is supposed to make her grandmother and mother happy—and in this incident, she has done the opposite.
Myth 3: Kyoko’s needs and wants don’t matter; only those of adults do.
At age two, Kyoko is unable to consciously process any of this. Nevertheless, she gets the message loud and clear: No matter what Grandma does to me, if I do something she doesn’t like, she’ll be mad at me and not like me—and it will be my fault.
Mika also chastises her daughter, Ayami, using Myth 2. In essence, she tells Ayami, “Your parenting made me unhappy.”
One core purpose of this book is to help you recognize EN when you see it—in both yourself and others—so you are able to name it, heal from it, and grow out of it.
Most of us are clueless about the myriad ways in which EN negatively affects our lives. This is because we don’t recognize or think through our everyday narcissism; it all usually occurs beneath the surface of our consciousness. As a result, we’re often confused, disappointed, or angry—and mystified at the depth of hurt or anger or craziness we can sometimes feel over ostensibly small things.
One core purpose of this book is to help you recognize EN when you see it—in both yourself and others—so you are able to name it, heal from it, and grow out of it.
Unpacking the Myths
The five myths—combined with our human need to belong, to be loved, to be liked, and to be part of community—form the foundation of EN. Let’s dive more deeply into each of the myths.
Myth 1: We Are Responsible for—and Have the Power to Control—How Other People Feel and Behave
Starting when we are young, we are taught that our biggest job—no matter what age we are—is to make our parents and other adults feel happy, proud, successful, adequate, important, loved, and so on. Our second biggest job is to prevent them from acting in ways that hurt us or are harmful or inappropriate in general.
The adults around us initially teach us Myth 1 by saying things such as:
• “Tell your aunt how much you like the lime-green sweater she gave you or she’ll be hurt.”
• “Go with your father or he’ll be disappointed.”
• “If you don’t text him right back, he’ll feel bad.”
• “Mom will be upset if you don’t come over.”
In all of these statements, an adult is asking a child to take care of an adult. These phrases teach children that they are responsible for adults, when in fact it is supposed to be the other way around.
We do this partly to help children learn to be sensitive to the feelings and needs of others. Yet kids also need to learn to be aware of and sensitive to their own feelings and needs, so they can express and manage them in healthy ways. Unfortunately, many of us are not taught to be sensitive to ourselves; instead, we’re taught Myth 3. In practice, sensitivity to others is best taught by modeling rather than words.
In her book Prisoners of Childhood, psychologist Alice Miller writes,
Children who fulfill their parents’ conscious or unconscious wishes are “good,” but if they ever refuse to do so or express wishes of their own that go against those of their parents, they are called egoistic or inconsiderate [e.g., thoughtless, rude, selfish, uncaring].1 It usually does not occur to the parents that they might need and use the child to fulfill their own egoistic wishes.
Over time, we learn to internalize such messages, and eventually our EN becomes perpetually reinforced. By the time we’re adolescents, most of us say similar things to ourselves, as well as to other people in our lives:
• “Don’t go. I’ll be so lonely without you.”
• “I’m disappointed that you don’t like the gifts I gave you.”
• “I’m hurt that you’re choosing not to join us at the party.”
We could say these are simple statements of fact, which state how we feel and what we want. In the EN-oriented world we have created, however, that is not how the statements are usually intended or heard. The message beneath all of them is, It’s your job to take care of me and make me feel good. The way to do that is to do what I want. You’re the one with the power—and the responsibility—to make me happy. It all revolves around you.
Here are some other common examples of how this gets played out:
• If we throw a party and all the guests have a good time, we assume it’s because we were a great host.
• If our boss calls us to her office, we assume we have done something wrong.
• If a neighbor visits us and she’s in a grumpy mood, we assume it’s because of something we said or did in her presence the last time we saw her.
• If we’re a therapist—and, yes, therapists do often struggle with their own EN—we mentally take credit for a client’s improved confidence and focus, when in fact the client did the work.
KELLY AND HER MOTHER
Thirteen-year-old Kelly looks carefully through her closet. She and her family are about to go to a rock concert where her aunt is performing, and she wants to look her best—and her coolest.
She finally chooses a blue leather skirt and a turtleneck sweater. She looks at herself in the mirror and is very pleased with her choice.
When she goes downstairs, her mother looks at her and frowns. She says, “Oh, Kelly, your orange plaid skirt and your orange blouse look so much cuter on you. I thought you’d be wearing that.”
Kelly is hurt and angry. She likes what she is wearing and feels confident and comfortable in it. She’s tired of always having to dress the way her mother wants. Yet she knows that if she doesn’t change her clothes, her mother will be angry and start to pout. (Myth 1)
Kelly has had enough experience with her mom’s pouting to know what will come after that. Dad will ask what’s wrong, and Mom will say, “It’s your daughter. She thinks it’s too much to ask her to wear what I want her to wear.” (Myth 3) Then Dad will be angry and agitated because he doesn’t know how to deal with his wife’s pouting.
Kelly doesn’t want to have to face all of this—or, worse, be blamed for it. So she stomps upstairs and puts on the orange outfit, which she doesn’t particularly like, and which, to her, seems completely wrong for a rock concert. In the process, she ends up following Myths 1 and 3 (as well as Myth 5, which we’ll get to shortly).
Kelly’s parents know she is angry. Yet they don’t care, so long as she changes her clothes.
Now that Kelly is in her orange outfit, Mom is happy and relaxed. As a result, Dad is happy and relaxed, too.
All the way to the concert, Kelly sits in the back seat of the car, pouting and fuming. No one in the front seat cares. And why would they? Their needs are being met.
Here is the message Kelly’s mother sends her, courtesy of her EN—a message that Kelly hears loudly and clearly: You need to dress to please me, not yourself. And if you don’t dress how I want you to, you’ll hurt and disappoint me. Kelly experiences this as rejection. This is a clothing-focused version of Myth 1.
Kelly learns not to stand up for herself as often as she would like to. She comes to believe that the normal results of taking a stand will be shame and rejection, so most of the time she just gives in. Eventually she may find herself struggling with depression.
Myth 2: Other People Are Responsible for—and Have the Power to Control—the Way We Feel and Behave
When we were children, adults blamed us for their unhappiness and bad behavior. We then experienced their disapproval, anger, and rejection for our ostensible failure to make them happy.
Feeling hurt by the rejection and blame, we in turn learned to blamed those adults for making us feel so miserable. Eventually a vicious circle of blame was created. Myth 2 is the consequence of others not following Myth 1.
Blaming is learned through modeling. When we are children and adults routinely blame us for their dissatisfaction, we learn that this is what normal human beings do. So we start blaming others for our unhappiness as well. As adults, we naturally continue this pattern.
Since we are supposed to make other people happy, they, in turn, are supposed to make us happy. Thus we live according to Myth 2. We hold others accountable for what we do and how we feel. When we are unhappy or angry or disappointed or sad, we blame other people for making us feel that way. They did the wrong thing, or said the wrong words, or used a nasty tone, or refused to look at us while they talked, or didn’t call us back quickly enough. Our unhappiness is their fault.
We experience this in restaurants, when the server isn’t fast or attentive enough; on the highway, when the person in front of us doesn’t yield or isn’t going fast enough; at work, when our boss doesn’t tell us what a great job we are doing; and at home, when our kids don’t even look up from their laptops when we walk in after a long, hard day of work.
We do the very same thing when we feel happy or serene: we attribute that feeling to what someone else did. This is particularly common when we’re dating. We give the other person credit for our excitement or happiness or delight—when, in fact, those feelings arose from our willingness to open up to and connect with someone else. We give credit to the mirror for the reflection we see in it.
Because of our EN, when others do what we want, we don’t just feel happy or pleased; we feel important, valued, respected, cared for, counted, and appreciated. When they don’t do what we want, we feel just the opposite.
. . . controlling (or attempting to control) others usually leads to misery, not happiness.
As a result, because of our EN, we come to believe that getting other people to do what we want will create our happiness. Yet decades of research into human happiness tell us that this is utterly false; controlling (or attempting to control) others usually leads to misery, not happiness.
Nevertheless, this is the very conviction that almost all of us live by. In our attempts to control others, we criticize them, analyze them, manipulate them, guilt or shame them, blame them, call them names, ignore them, swear at them, hit them—or flatter them, beg them, or bribe them with sweetness or compliance or sex or money or attention.
In relationships where each person holds the other responsible for their own happiness, a game of hot potato evolves. People take turns blaming each other for how they feel, sharing in detail what the other person did wrong. No one wants to hold the hot potato—that is, accept blame for the other person’s discomfort—for very long. No one wants to get stuck being the villain. So the potato gets passed back and forth endlessly.
The most dangerous form of Myth 2 appears in violent relationships. Abusers tell their partners repeatedly that the abuse is the partner’s fault. If only their partner would act right, speak right, cook supper right, not use the wrong tone of voice, cut the onions right, never be late, never forget the umbrella, etc., then the abuser would treat the partner well. They tell their partner the abuse is the result of the partner’s bad behavior. The partner may believe this, too, because it is an expression of Myth 1.
Most of us even apply Myth 2 to inanimate objects. We expect our computers and phones and cars and zippers and plumbing to always work perfectly, and, because of our EN, we get mad at them when they don’t. We curse our smartphones or yell at our computers, even though we know perfectly well that they’re only devices. Yet because Myth 2 has become so deeply ingrained in us, we imagine that these objects are somehow responsible for—and have the power to control—the way we feel and behave. We imagine that it’s their job to make us happy, rather than just perform a function.
Myth 3: The Needs and Wants of Other People Are More Important than Our Own
Myth 3 is a natural consequence of Myth 1. If we must please others—and if we must focus on what they want and need and ignore our own wants and needs, or risk losing their love and support—what other conclusion can we possibly come to?
As we will see, the way to begin healing from Myth 3 is to look inward at what genuinely matters to us—what we want, need, and care about—and then act on it.
CHAUNCEY, HIS FATHER, AND HIS MUSIC TEACHER
When he is in the sixth grade, Chauncey tells his father he wants to learn to play the trombone. Instead, his school’s music teacher insists he first learn to play the French horn, a much more difficult instrument.
When Chauncey tells his father about this, his dad calls the teacher and says, “Why can’t my son learn whatever instrument he wants to?” The music teacher says, “The school band doesn’t have a single French horn player, and it already has two trombone players. If your son would learn the French horn, it would help out the whole school.”
Chauncey’s mother and father discuss the situation and decide that the music teacher’s needs and wants—and those of the school band—are more important than Chauncey’s.
They don’t realize they’re doing this, of course. Because of their EN, they want to look like cooperative people and please the band director. They don’t understand how much they are discounting their son and teaching him Myth 3.
They tell their son of their decision and say, “Just try the French horn for a couple of years. Maybe you’ll like it. If you still want to play the trombone by the time you’re in eighth grade, we’ll stand behind you.”
Chauncey feels betrayed, then outraged, then despondent. The incident teaches him two things. First, to adults, his musical desires aren’t important—only the adults’ desires are. Second, adults often join together to outmaneuver or overpower kids.
Although Chauncey dutifully takes up the French horn, he is deeply wounded by the incident.
Chauncey turns out to be good at the French horn, and his music teacher is pleased. Yet he still wants to learn the trombone.
When he begins eighth grade, he tells his teacher he’s not going to play French horn anymore, and he plans to take up the trombone. This leads to a discussion among Chauncey, his parents, and the music teacher. The teacher tells Chauncey and his parents what a talented French horn player he is, and he will leave a big hole in the school band if he switches instruments.
Chauncey is adamant, however, and his parents, to their credit, uphold their promise and support him.
Chauncey learns the new instrument quickly, and by the end of eighth grade, he has become the best trombonist in the band. However, the music teacher is angry that his parents stuck to their commitment to Chauncey and set aside the needs of the band. The music teacher holds a grudge and becomes passive-aggressive with Chauncey. He rarely praises Chauncey, criticizes him often, and offers him no help or instruction.
Chauncey knows he is a talented musician. Yet he has no interest in allowing himself to be so mistreated. At the end of the eighth grade, he quits the band, puts down the trombone, and never takes up another instrument.
AMY AND HER MOTHER
Seven-year-old Amy goes to her mother for help in dealing with her hurting heart. Her friend Megan didn’t invite her to her birthday party. However, six of her friends received invitations. Amy and Megan had always gone to each other’s parties, so she is crushed and confused at not being invited.
Trish, Amy’s mother, grew up during hard times. She learned to survive by being tough, practical, and thick-skinned. She wants to quickly soothe her daughter’s pain and pass on some of her hard-earned wisdom and skills. So she tells her daughter, “Don’t worry about it, honey. You have lots of friends! Besides, what Megan did says more about her than it does about you.”
Trish thinks she is being helpful and teaching her daughter valuable survival skills.
However, that is not what Amy needs or is asking for right now. What she needs is to be listened to, believed, understood, cared for, and nurtured.
Her mom does none of these. Instead, Amy senses that her mother is dismissing her feelings and doesn’t want her to be sad.
And young Amy is right. Trish is very uncomfortable with her daughter’s sadness. She never learned how to deal with her own sadness, let alone Amy’s.
When Amy doesn’t get the nurturing she asks for, she feels rejected and not permitted to be who she is.
Trish tells her daughter, “You know what you can do, honey? Instead of worrying about Megan, you can think about something else, or go have fun with one of your other friends.”
This is a classic EN move. Because Trish feels uncomfortable with Amy’s pain, she encourages her daughter to distract herself from that pain so that Trish won’t feel so uncomfortable.
However, Amy already feels that pain, and she wants that pain acknowledged and understood. Yet this is what Trish, caught in a moment of EN, refuses to do.
Right now, Amy doesn’t think anyone understands her. She feels alone at school, forced out from her group of friends. Because of her mother’s response, she now also feels alone at home, with a mother who doesn’t seem to fully understand or care.
If this is an isolated incident, Amy will heal from it fairly quickly. However, if Trish continues to teach her to be tough and logical, and to not give her own feelings much credence, she will learn that it’s not okay to be sad, to talk about her sadness, or to let herself get hurt. Amy will fear that she will be rejected once again if she does open up honestly about her feelings. Instead, she may learn to pretend that all is well inside her, even when it isn’t. This will deeply embed EN in her heart.
Trish has put her own feelings ahead of her daughter’s. As Amy grows older, if this becomes a pattern, she will learn that asking to be heard or discussing how she feels will lead quickly to her mother’s disapproval. Eventually Amy may stop trying to talk about her feelings to anyone. She may never learn to take care of her feelings and her emotional life. Myths 1, 3, and 5 may reign within her heart.
Myth 4: Following the Rules Is Also More Important than Addressing Our Needs and Feelings
Rules are necessary for any society to function. We see the value of rules when we drive in rush-hour traffic. Despite all the cars on the highway, rules enable us to get to our destinations without incident.
Contrast this with a big-box store such as Costco, where there are few rules for traffic flow—and where there are often bottlenecks or points of temporary chaos, as well as occasional cart collisions. When reasonable rules are followed, they create safety and predictability and make life easier.
Unfortunately, most of us never challenge the rules we learned as children. We simply accept and live by all of them, regardless of whether they help us or harm us. For example, we may automatically obey anyone in authority—a teacher, a spiritual leader, a coach, our boss—even after we have seen them abuse their authority.
Following rules—and demanding that others follow them—turns out to be one of the most painful, effective, and invisible ways in which we pass our EN to others, and they pass their EN to us. The two are so intertwined that I’ve devoted Chapter 5 to a detailed discussion of the topic.
Myth 5: We Are Not Lovable as We Are; We Can Only Become Lovable through What We Do and Say
As we grow up according to the first four myths, and as everyday narcissism embeds itself ever deeper into our psyche, we eventually begin to intuit Myth 5. Through our parents’ and other adults’ EN, we learn at a young age that we are not inherently lovable just by being ourselves. Only if we do what adults want us to, follow their rules, and please them will we be considered lovable. Yet each time we are valued only for what we do and who we pretend to be, rather than for who we are, a wound is created or deepened.
Almost all of us figure out at a very young age that if we are obedient and compliant, then we’re good and will be rewarded; if we’re disobedient, we’re bad and will be punished. Often the punishment for not being what others want is simple disapproval, or silence, or a sigh, or a look of judgment; sometimes, though, it takes the form of harsh words or violence. This is how adults, often unconsciously, control us and shape us into people who learn to take care of their needs and ignore our own.
ADAM
By age ten, Adam has already faithfully internalized all the myths and principles of EN. He also diligently follows all the rules that adults expect him to follow. He has learned how to behave “perfectly” at all times. He follows directions and always says please and thank you. He is extremely responsible for a ten-year-old. Strangers who meet him praise him for acting like a little adult.
Adam’s teachers love him because he is so easy to have in the classroom. Parents like to have Adam over because he adheres to all their rules and expectations, with no arguments.
Adam gets a lot of positive reinforcement for not being himself—for being a “good boy.” In fact, however, Adam has learned to be a robot. He lives Myths 1, 3, 4, and 5 to perfection.
For the next two years, Adam’s outward behavior doesn’t change. One day, however, his father discovers a sketchbook hidden under his son’s bed. In the sketchbook are many drawings of a boy sitting alone and looking very sad, holding a knife to his wrist, as if to cut himself. Inside the spiral binding of the sketchbook are three joints.
Adam’s parents are shocked. They had no clue about their son’s unhappiness. To them, he seemed like such a happy, well-adjusted boy. They wonder what has suddenly gone so wrong with their son. Adam’s father blames the change on the early stirrings of adolescence.
In fact, something very right is beginning to happen inside Adam. He is starting to challenge the myths of EN and beginning to say to himself, “I’m not a robot. I do have feelings. I’m tired of existing just to make adults happy. I want desperately to matter. Somebody please acknowledge me.”
Here is what makes Myth 5 especially toxic and insidious: the more we work to fulfill adults’ needs, the more we reinforce our own belief that we are not intrinsically lovable. We learn to blame ourselves whenever we feel rejected. We tell ourselves that we must not be sufficiently smart, or lovable, or respectful, or obedient, or helpful; if we were, the people around us would feel happy and love us, rather than reject us.
Human beings are wired to be connected in authentic ways, not false or trivial ones.
Since we’ve come to believe that we are not lovable as we are, we learn to hide our true self from other people. We create a public persona—a false self—who looks, speaks, and acts the way we think other people want us to. We develop a façade to ensure that we will be liked, accepted, and valued. Meanwhile, we live in fear that someone may find out what’s behind that façade. We learn to live a lie.
This false self is then accepted by other false selves. Together, these false selves have created a world of partial, inauthentic connections. These connections are, understandably, less than satisfying. Human beings are wired to be connected in authentic ways, not false or trivial ones.
Because everyday narcissism is so widespread, here is the world it has helped us to create:
• We spend our days trying desperately to belong. We focus on doing and being what everyone else wants us to do or be—or, at least, what we think they want us to do or be.
• This focus requires us to discount ourselves and deny our own truth—day by day, moment after moment, over and over. This takes away much of our freedom and energy. It deprives us of the joy of exploring, searching, challenging, adventuring, and discovering ourselves. It undermines our self-esteem and self-confidence.
• We yearn for genuine connections with other people, yet we may not know how to create such connections. We only know how to create inauthentic ones, by reaching out from one false self to another.
• Or, perhaps, we do know how to create these connections—yet we don’t dare attempt them. We’re terrified that if we do show people our real self, they will reject us and turn away in disgust. We fear that we will then lose what little, limited, inauthentic connection we had with them.
• Or, maybe we’ve never been fortunate enough to have ever experienced an authentic connection with another human being. We may not know what such a connection looks or feels like. We may not even realize that such a relationship is possible.
• Or, we may think the paltry connections that false selves have with one another are intimacy, and they are the best we can offer one another.
• Yet, at the same time, something inside us tells us that all of this isn’t enough. Although we may not be able to put words to the feeling, we yearn for something more, something real, something authentic.
• We are exhausted from our attempts to maintain the lies we live by.
The Need to Belong
