02 My Light – Spot 3
What Is Expected of Me?
It’s a paradox: We live in a society where it seems that only victory matters, and only successful people are noticed. The media paint a very precise picture of what women and men have to be like to belong. Women are supposed to be naturally beautiful, slim and perfect in every way – in bed, as mothers, as daughters, at cooking and doing housework, as friends and at work. And they must do so seemingly effortlessly.
In order for men not to have to feel ashamed, they should deny themselves feelings, earn money, put others in their place and rise to the top. It’s about winning, emotional control, risk-taking, violence, dominance, being a playboy, independence, prioritising work, power over women and striving for status.
In our society, deficiencies are always emphasised: I wake up in the morning and think: “I haven’t slept enough, and I have too much to do today.” In the evening, I lie down in bed and think about the fact that I didn’t do my exercises, call x, y and z, tidy up or do my favourite thing. Wistfulness and a romanticised view of the past are also part of it. Everything used to be easier, nicer, better, …
The media fuels anxiety and uncertainty. People are constantly comparing who is better, worse, or to blame. We are ashamed of not being good enough or not having enough. We withdraw and no longer want to put ourselves out there. Or we strike back to distract from our lack of self-worth.
Narcissism (exaggerated self-love), delusions of grandeur, the search for admiration and the idea of having a right to everything feel like a soothing balm against the pain of leading an average and inadequate existence. Our culture of scarcity produces these narcissists.
However, the opposite of scarcity is not abundance. I can’t buy my way out of the scarcity. There is only one way out: “I am good enough”. I am learning to step back into the arena, without armour, without a shield, without a mask, completely naked, and to say: “Look at me. I am this good. No better and no worse.”
The paradox in our society and the media is that really successful people, namely, emotionally successful people, are not perfect. They show who they really are, revealing their rough edges, their weaknesses and strengths. They are vulnerable. They choose to stand in the arena. They are authentic at work, when it comes to love, with their families and at parties.
Emotionally successful people allow themselves to be hurt. They dare to do things they could potentially fail at. They fall, own up to it, take responsibility, get up again and continue on their journey. It takes a great deal of courage to be physically and emotionally vulnerable. However, this vulnerability is a source of creativity and development.
I can’t let my light shine if I’m afraid of what others will think of me; if the mere thought of putting myself out there almost makes me want to die of shame. Shame serves as a handbrake for developing my talents, my greatness, my contribution to my group.
“I am not a victim of circumstance, I am a victim of myself.”
I imagine having created something very personal – a poem, a song, a picture. I would like to show my friends. But linking my self-worth to what others say about it means letting them decide whether I am a good or a bad person. So I have two options.
A: I don’t show them because it’s too risky, or I leave out sensitive details and play down my creation as a mere joke and claim that it means nothing to me.
B: I show them my creation, warts and all, and will be devastated if I’m criticised. My inner critic will shout that it has always said I don’t have what it takes. I will never dare to do anything new, artistic or big again.
I want to learn not to let other people’s assessments of my performance attack my self-worth. Perhaps one of my creations wasn’t well-made, or perhaps the people I showed it to didn’t like it very much. But that doesn’t make me a bad person. I couldn’t do any better at that moment.
I am on my journey. My work is a reflection of my stage of development. I’m learning and getting better and better. Perhaps their criticism was justified. Perhaps I really will be able to do better. So I keep at it and bravely venture on with my journey. I’m doing really well.
I am also learning that timing is essential in creative processes and criticism. When I’ve just finished my painting or poem, I’m in a state of intoxication. I think it’s brilliant. I am a genius. In this state, criticism will always feel like a knife to the stomach.
As a creator, I have the option to wait before presenting my work. Once a few hours or days have passed, I will have had a chance to distance myself from my creation. A certain disillusionment sets in. I will be able to view my own work critically and therefore accept criticism better.
When someone shows me their work, I can sense which phase the artist is currently in. If they are in their initial enthusiastic phase, I will happily share in their enthusiasm and keep my criticism to myself until they are open to it. I will always ensure that my opinion is genuinely sought before offering it.
Be careful with children! They can’t wait to show off their creations. They will always come to me bubbling with their exuberant joy. If I criticise them and show them what they have done “wrong”, I undermine their self-worth and hurt them. I’m not going to criticise them, and I’m happy for them without reservation. Criticism must wait for the right opportunity.
When I was a child, I found ways and means to protect myself against emotional injuries such as pain, belittlement and disappointment. I assembled my mental armour, used my thoughts, feelings, and behaviour as weapons, and learned to make myself scarce or even disappear into thin air.
Now, as an adult, I realise that I want to muster the courage to put myself out there and conquer the fear of being hurt and embarrassed in order to live a meaningful and courageous life, connected to others – to be the person I can be. I free myself from emotional armour and lay down my weapons to join in and show myself.
“I’m fine by myself!”
Living by this belief, for one, I will not achieve much, and, secondly, I will be very lonely. Enter the next paradox. Asking for help is generally considered a weakness. Especially for men. And yet, successful and popular people are precisely the people who can make mistakes without feeling ashamed, ask for support without ulterior motives and who say no very clearly and lovingly from time to time, so as not to overburden themselves. Why is that?
What do I think when someone helps me, when someone does me a favour, when someone gives me a present for no reason? Does that give me a bad feeling? Am I ashamed of it? Am I not good at accepting gifts? Do I think I don’t deserve it? Do I think I need to return the favour?
If that’s the case, I still have work to do. Those who have ulterior motives when accepting help also have ulterior motives when helping others. If I expect gratitude, loyalty, friendship, love or something in return for my support, I’m still stuck in the quagmire.
My DOD may contain notes about situations in which I was annoyed with someone because they didn’t turn up to an arranged meeting and said they needed to look after themselves. I was angry because someone didn’t thank me appropriately after I invited them to dinner, and I swore never to invite them again.
Being around other people stresses me out because I’m always trying to please others, to control everything, not to say the wrong thing and to look as perfect as possible. From now on, I will always be on high alert in such situations! I want to get out of there.
During my time in the school system, I learnt that mistakes are punished. So I want to avoid them. Most parents adopt this way of thinking and punish their children for non-conformist behaviour at home, too, although people say: “You learn from your mistakes”. It is not easy to overcome years of conditioning. If I really want to be emotionally successful, I need to shake the fear of making mistakes step by step.
Professional salespeople are taught the following principle: Knowing the answer to every question in a sales talk results in fewer sales than occasionally saying: “I don’t know, but I can find out for you.” Why is that? Admitting weakness makes us human, and we want to buy from people, not robots. Are know-it-alls and smart arses popular? No! So I’ll stop doing that.