In part 1 of this series, we touched upon the blissful and frightening states that can occur when we feel merged with a partner whom we love. These states are drawn from our earliest experiences outside the womb and tend to awaken parallel states of extreme helplessness. As exciting as these experiences of full absorption can be, humans are not designed to remain helplessly dependent. We are designed to learn to love autonomously.

One of the primary feats of early development is the forging of a self separate from mother. Out of the cacophony of fleeting images, sensations, drives, and demands swirling within our infant experience of the world, we somehow identify enough patterns within the chaos from which to propel our very own imprint of that world. The acorn cracks and the sapling lifts its first tendrils toward the sky. As our distinct character emerges, we begin the long craft of personalizing our experience. We learn to abide by a singular rhythm that makes sense only to ourselves while somehow maintaining the approval of mother.

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The journey toward becoming a “me” continues from the first year of life well into our 20th. Then, just as we’ve gained some mastery at selfhood, we attempt to reverse the journey. We long for experiences of merging with another: adult intimacy. Our self-will, though still active, takes a back seat to the more instinctual parts of our brain. One day we are content to greet the object of our desire from a distance; the next there seems to be no distance at all. Before we know it, the fragile “me” we’ve carefully constructed over the years has merged into a “we.”

Just how we experience adult intimacy depends as much on our inborn character as it does on how we differentiated our self from our primary caregiver. Below, I refer to four of the later separation-individuation stages, as defined by classic psychologist Dr. Margaret Mahler, for clues as to how we first managed the capacity to hold on to—while separating from—our merged existence with mother. The marks of these infant/toddler achievements make a dramatic reappearance in the work of adults attempting to navigate bonding—while maintaining autonomy—with their life partners.

Hatching: (5-9 months old)

Julie has felt hopelessly in love with Brian for a few weeks now. They’ve consecrated their affections during long weekends together, and the melding seems to have lifted Julie beyond time itself. With Brian, she feels solid and truly herself. During the intervening weeks without Brian, however, Julie feels she has lost any capacity to go through the motions of ordinary life. She doesn’t miss Brian or recall their time together. Instead, she finds herself unable to function at all. Having identified her true self as that which is beyond her grasp, she has no self left with which to even dream of reunification with Brian.

We might pity Julie, but we all remember at a visceral level the trouble she’s in. Waking hungry in our crib at night, we cry out and are met with no immediate response. No sound of approaching comfort. It takes but a few minutes before our cries threaten to steal our breath from us. We are inconsolable. We learn the dark contours of an unmerciful absence and we don’t forget it. How do we survive these early stages of helplessness?

We learn the dark contours of an unmerciful absence and we don’t forget it. How do we survive these early stages of helplessness?

We start, during what’s called “hatching,” by learning to hold on to imagery of our caregivers. Babies at this stage become obsessively interested in the sights and smells associated with mother. Mothers report there being a dramatic increase in the intensity of their child’s attachment at this stage. Fathers report feeling far less replaceable. During the hatching stage, babies are ingesting the image of their mother into their minds. The eventual result: the arising of an internal representation of the mother’s life-giving forces.

Revisiting the primal instinct for this transition in her adult life, Julie might ask Brian if she can keep his jacket so she can wear it during the week or update her profile with photos of the two of them, training herself to identify with the accessories and imagery of their partnership. To friends and family, Julie may appear more helpless than ever as she begins to fixate on her phone, always anticipating Brian’s next text or rereading old threads. But in terms of how we are designed to love autonomously, this is a necessary and critical part of her process. Internalizing the sights and smells of our beloved sets the stage for a sense of wholeness while living apart.

Practicing: (9-14 months old)

Children in the “practicing” stage are exchanging notions of symbiosis with mother for ones of possession. Instead of needing direct physical touch to feel connected, children practice feeling it at a distance. A child notices his mother leave to the kitchen while he is temporarily absorbed with his toys. His interest wanes and, instead of crying out for her to come comfort him, he calls out instead for her acknowledgment. “Juice?” “Sure, honey, I’ll get you some.” These interactions establish a sense of safety within a proximal distance. The more reliable these exchanges, the more distance opened up for exploration. In this way, the organic parameters of loving connection are found to reach far throughout the house and eventually throughout the neighborhood.

Sam and Phil are fully hatched as a couple. They are both enthralled with how important they are to each other and have begun regaling their friends with stories of their latest romantic triumphs. Their Instagram feeds contain large volumes of them holding, hugging, and having each other. Time apart is tolerable only insofar as they fill those empty hours with memories and plans for their next rendezvous.

Though their mutual world feels established, all is not always harmonious in the land of honeymoon. If Sam doesn’t hear from Phil for a day, he notices he starts to get cranky. Phil learns to oblige Sam’s moods by using a lot of soothing, reassuring tones when arriving after an extended absence. For his part, Phil gets anxious when Sam is given attention by others. Sam has learned to accommodate Phil’s jealousy by referring to Phil often when speaking to others. Phil relaxes each time he hears Sam describe himself as happily partnered. Some might judge Sam and Phil’s doting accommodations to each other’s insecurities as setting a poor precedent for their future. However, at the practicing stage, there can never be “too much” attention to sensitivity. It’s only closely wired couples whose love can span the distance as both partners venture a return to their autonomous lives.

Rapprochement: (14-24 months old)

Children in the “rapprochement” stage are confounded by two separate needs: the drive to individuate and the impulse to stay safe. Classically, this stage is depicted as a 2-year-old on her first day of preschool, clinging to her mother’s dress with one hand and reaching out toward the block room with the other. The job of the mother is to find grace as a selfless launchpad while the girl vacillates between hiding within the folds of mother’s dress and throwing her recklessly aside. The mother’s tolerance of this continual flip-flopping between extremes transmits to the child an ability to tolerate her own ambivalence.

The features of the fight give insight into the core rapprochement patterns established in their childhoods. This, in turn, gives insight into what’s in store for them as they attempt to resolve the current crisis.

When working with couples in crisis about their relationship, I’ll often ask them about their first serious fight with each other when they were just getting to know each other. As people recall the incidents, I listen for clues as to how they resolved the fight. Some scream and yell. Others are quick to kiss and make up. Some brood and punish indirectly for weeks before addressing the problem. Others discuss it ad infinitum until they slowly lose interest and move on.

The features of the fight give insight into the core rapprochement patterns established in their childhoods. This, in turn, gives insight into what’s in store for them as they attempt to resolve the current crisis. The need to shore up safety with a partner while also standing strong in one’s differences is a tense operation that doesn’t always resolve with the couple remaining intact. No matter the wedding vows, some partnerships can withstand an individual’s thrust toward self-growth, while others are shattered by the process. This period of rapprochement offers no promises, only an ability to tolerate the process.

Object Constancy: (24-plus months old)

Anyone who has witnessed a child progress through the early stages of attachment knows parenting is not for the faint of heart. Autistic merging, hatching, practicing, and rapprochement bring out the neediest and most demanding aspects of the human experience. Parents are asked not only to find a matching response to the child’s level of need but to express a reassurance that can somehow normalize the painful process of growing up. “It’s okay to be sad because I know you miss Mommy. I promise you, she’ll be right back.” With enough reassurance, children indeed arrive at the place where they can take comfort in imagining their mother’s goodness even while she is out for the day. “Object constancy” refers to a child’s capacity to feel the good qualities of their mother’s love inside of themselves.

As adults, we learn to return to and expand this childlike sense of object constancy to include:

• An ability to recognize and tolerate loving and hostile feelings toward the same person
• An ability to keep feelings of need centered on one person
• An ability to value that person for attributes other than their capacity to satisfy needs

There is no way to develop these abilities except by weathering the storms of disagreement, misattunement, and conflict with those we love. It’s never easy to be in opposition with the one you want to trust to take care of you. When tensions are high and the risk of separation appears imminent, some amount of “faking it ’til we make it” can be helpful.

“I can disagree deeply with you and know you will not leave me.”

“I can see your point of view, even come to agree with you, without losing my self-respect.”

“I trust us to negotiate solutions that will take care of both of us.”

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Couples might reach toward such statements with the hope their very utterance will somehow make them true. Lo and behold, with enough patience, time, and reassurance, it can work. The good of the relationship is instilled within the hearts of each as a reliable constant. Arguments can come and go, leaving the underlying love undisturbed. With each round, a chance to grow up all over again.

Reference:

Mahler, M., Pine, F., & Bergman, A. (2000). The psychological birth of the human infant symbiosis and individuation. New York, NY: Basic Books.

“NO, that’s NOT what I mean.”

“How could you say that?”

“I wasn’t finished. Where are you going?”

At first glance, sudden and intense misattunement between partners may indicate a need for a more disciplined approach to conflict. Perhaps both need a class to practice nonviolent communication strategies, a workshop to enhance empathy, or a therapist to work on anger management.

But what if the problem isn’t interpersonal? What if the deeper conflicts at stake are going on within—each person struggling to maintain two versions of self simultaneously, their personal self and their relational self? Look again at the arguments that confound couples and we can see they are frequently frustrated not at each other but at the delicate trapeze work required of each person to keep their own identity from crashing.

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I practice as both an individual counselor and a couples counselor. A core task in both practices involves helping folks navigate the space between their personal and relational selves. The personal self is busy with the task of differentiation: remaining autonomous and whole while with others. The relational self, meanwhile, is occupied with the task of merging: deepening intimate availability for connection.

As I talk with one person, I get a direct experience of their unique worldview. Speaking again on the same topic while that person is in the presence of a loved other, I often observe that worldview collapse. Here, the simplest facts, the clearest agreements, and the most bedrock values slip like disentangled particles through their grasp. Little that is true to the identity of a person necessarily remains true to their identity while in relationship.

Differentiation: Being Oneself in the Company of Another

Pay attention to couples as they slip into a casual disagreement and you’ll see any number of well-honed techniques to salvage dignity and equilibrium. It’s a supremely complex task. Not only must each preserve a sense of entitlement to their own opinion, they must simultaneously preserve a sense that the person to whom they are attached is worthy of respect. Most complex of all, they each need to handle a temporary rupture of relational attunement.

Differentiated couples have gained some measure of confidence that their relationship will survive its everyday ruptures. Such confidence is hard-won.

Differentiated couples have gained some measure of confidence that their relationship will survive its everyday ruptures. Such confidence is hard-won. It takes no small amount of faith and a whole lot of practice to establish a capacity to be caring while experiencing a sudden collapse of attunement (“How can I be right when the one I love doesn’t get me?”).

Over time, a belief in constancy ensues and stays intact even through argument. Nevertheless, beneath the light ribbing (“There you go again, hon”), the humor (“That’s okay, you don’t have to make sense for me to love you”), and the subtle redirection (“Remember that one time we weren’t fighting?”), the remnants of early wounding remain. To understand how to love, we have little choice but to understand how we managed those first wounds.

Merging: The Urge to Return to Unity

During the first month of life, children lead a non-differentiated existence. Blissful or frightening, there is no sense of self separating them from the outside world. The attunement taking place in the touch and eye contact between mother and babe renders both in a fused state. Mothers describe being transported to a regressed world in service of the baby. Both are engulfed in feelings of oneness and a mutual sensitivity to each other’s moods and states. It takes six to nine months for babies to emerge from this fused existence and prepare to “hatch” a separate personality from their primary caregiver.

During that time, their experience of oneness vacillates between two phases of merging: autistic and symbiotic. In the autistic phase, mother is viewed as an intrinsic part of the infant, devoid of a separate existence. When deprived of their mother, babes will feel themselves to be literally nothing, empty, nonexistent. In the symbiotic phase, mother is viewed vaguely as separate but only in terms of need fulfillment. It is in this phase that babes develop their reactive capacities to cry out, push away, and demand a return to unity. Even if the child has yet to develop a sense of self, their self-preservation instinct is active and they will not kindly receive anyone or anything keeping them from attunement.

Regression Happens

The quality of these two phases of merging constitutes the felt landscape of the longing for adult intimacy. Once the desire for intimacy is awakened in mature adults, so too awaken recollections of their primal urge for unity. The body remembers the fused state of those first months outside the womb, even if the mind holds no actual memory of it. Like a moth drawn to a flame, we are compelled to reexperience the ineffable sense of oneness that transpired there.

The quality of these two phases of merging constitutes the felt landscape of the longing for adult intimacy. Once the desire for intimacy is awakened in mature adults, so too awaken recollections of their primal urge for unity.

Spiritually, as adults, we might seek it through prayers for atonement. Sexually, it may be sought in the lust toward orgasm. Interpersonally, this urge for unity is evident when we tap into states of unbridled attraction that go beyond seeing the other as merely attractive. We don’t actually see them at all, captured in the moment solely by our own sense of selfless longing for connection.

For those anticipating the prospects of a deep merging experience, there comes a necessary softening of their power to self-regulate. Differentiation pauses as an opening occurs for fusion. When the merged state arises, we are engulfed by a return to those first blissful/frightening months of life. And when it is taken from us, we either collapse or rage.

Confronting everyday conflicts with partners soon after experiencing hopes for intimacy naturally provokes autistic and symbiotic memories of detachment from mother. (“What was once my world has been torn asunder.”) Regression into the autistic phase is marked by absolutisms: “I am nothing if you don’t see my point of view.” “I might as well kill myself if you see it that way.” Regression to the symbiotic phase is marked more by violent rejection: “How dare you!” “I want mommy. Go away!” These infantile responses get stirred in the middle of our grown-up lives, yet healthy adulthood never leaves these core feelings behind.

Do We Ever Truly Grow Up?

Our emotional development occurred not in a straight line but as an outward flowering spiral. If we could look at the core stages we passed through from ages 0 to 9 months, we would likely find origins of the most-repeated habits we employ to attain intimacy as adults. Those automatic habits constitute our “unknown knowns”—the unconscious strategies that control our most sophisticated adult interactions.

Even though we never truly graduate from the feelings associated with our core identity development, we learn to recognize them better as they arise. With practice, we also learn to soothe and express those feelings with more finesse.

Fortunately for most of us, our emotional development did not end at 9 months. Collapse and rage are not the only tools at our disposal to deal with the temporary ruptures in our intimate lives. We can look at a blueprint of the separation-individuation stages as defined by classic psychologist Margaret Mahler for clues as to how we developed the capacity to leave our merged existence with mother, eventually to carry that sense of safety within our individuated selves. In part 2 of this series, we will look at how these stages are installed over the first two years of life and how we subconsciously reexperience them as we attempt to build trust with those we love as adults.

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• Differentiation/hatching (5-9 months): The infant becomes increasingly interested in discovering mother (e.g., how she looks or smells) rather than trying to become symbiotically unified with her.
• Practicing (9-14 months): Although able to explore freely, the child still regards mother as unified with child and thus explores surroundings while keeping within an optimal distance.
• Rapprochement (14-24 months): The child’s desire to be all-powerful and self-sufficient is marred by a fear of abandonment. The child reaches a healthy medium between the two extremes due to language and superego development.
• Object constancy (24-plus months): Successful completion of this phase marks the development of an internalized mental model of the mother, which unconsciously accompanies and supports the child even when they are physically separated.

Reference:

Mahler, M., Pine, F., & Bergman, A. (2000). The psychological birth of the human infant symbiosis and individuation. New York, NY: Basic Books.

Covert narcissism, which tends to be expressed in passive or indirect ways, differs from what most people might imagine when they hear “narcissism.” Those with traits of covert narcissism may seem shy or overly sensitive, but this apparent self-effacement typically masks grandiose thoughts and an internal sense of superiority, or belief that one is better than others. This form of narcissism may be more subtle and less easy to recognize.

Along these lines, a mother who has traits of covert narcissism may appear, on the surface, to be self-effacing and self-sacrificing. Everything she does is for the benefit of her children. The community sees a parent who is room mom, PTA president, or sanctified Sunday school teacher. Her social media presence may rival that of a minor celebrity! At every game, activity, and lesson, Mom is involved in her daughter’s every decision—so involved, in fact, that Daughter is never allowed to make any decisions on her own. This level of intimacy between mother and daughter is seen by most as something that is “all good,” but a more careful look reveals this is not the case.

The apparent closeness of the mother-daughter relationship can obscure the reality of the situation—Mom is relying on her daughter in ways that are unhealthy for both of them. In this case, it is the needs of the mother, not the daughter, that are the central driving force in the relationship. [fat_widget_right]

Covert Maternal Narcissism Through the Life Cycle

When a mother-daughter dynamic is affected by the mother’s covert narcissism, the impact of this can be seen throughout the daughter’s life. A mother who is narcissistically defended experiences her daughter’s growing independence as a threat. Her defenses make it hard to take the losses and incorporate them at each developmental stage. Psychologically, she cannot withstand the losses involved in allowing her daughter to become more independent.

To counter this independence, Mom establishes herself and her own needs as primary, thus making it more and more difficult for her daughter to find her voice and claim her life for herself. In other words, the mother can be said to appropriate her daughter’s right to live her own life at each developmental stage. She isn’t doing this with “evil” intent. She is simply unable to let go of her daughter.

Here is how this dynamic can play out at each developmental stage, with the mother’s needs centered to forestall the daughter’s individuation:

• Infancy. Mom guards her role of primary caregiver jealously and has a hard time letting anyone else, including Dad, become special to Daughter.
• Toddler and preschool years. Daughter begins to exert independence, and Mom is displeased. She tends to resort quickly to punishment and is likely to shame any behavior she considers rebellious. When Daughter enters day care or preschool, Mom sends mixed messages, signaling to Daughter that she isn’t safe with anyone but Mom. Daughters usually have major separation anxiety at this juncture.
• Adolescent and preteen years. Mom inserts herself in all of Daughter’s friendships. She evaluates harshly any friend or friendship interaction, frequently forbidding her daughter to remain friends with anyone she doesn’t approve of. Different tastes in hair, makeup, clothing, and even music are all experienced as an affront to Mom. Major battles often are the result. There is no agreement to disagree, only discord and major standoffs.
• Teenage years. When Daughter begins to date, Mom sees boys as a major threat. What is normally a difficult time between mothers and daughters may escalate into a full-blown Armageddon.
• Marriage. When Daughter marries, Mom’s needs, taste, and preferences often dictate wedding plans. Decisions are likely to be mother/daughter decisions instead of decisions made by the couple, and Mom’s opinions usually prevail.
• Daughter’s first child. Mom’s first grandchild is a major event in her life, and she works hard to establish her importance as doting, adoring grandmother. She gives unsolicited advice and frequently demands she be included in important family decisions, acting as a partner to her daughter. As a result, the child’s other parent is frequently marginalized. Daughter may frequently hear from others, “What a saint your mother is. You are so lucky to have her help!”

In a functional mother/daughter relationship, it is normal for each of these stages of development to involve losses for both mother and daughter. However, mothers with narcissistic defenses often cannot take the normal developmental loss that would allow their daughter to individuate and separate in a healthy way. The daughters of these mothers often feel trapped in the role of “Good Daughter,” acting to fulfill an obligation they may not be fully aware of: filling the sense of emptiness Mom experiences. Daughters may not have the language to fully describe covert narcissism, or the behavior of their mothers, or how the dynamic affects them, but they may know “If Momma Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy”—if Mom doesn’t feel happy and fulfilled, no one else can, either.

The Effects of Covert Narcissism

The impact of covert narcissism in the mother/daughter dynamic can be far-reaching, even when it goes unrecognized. Some of the people I’ve worked with in therapy are completely unaware of the pressure playing the role of Good Daughter exerts on them, though they feel the effects.

Daughters of narcissistically defended mothers typically sacrifice their own emotional authenticity in order to keep their mothers happy. In short, they don’t know how they feel. They only know how they should behave in order to fulfill Mom’s needs and how they should make her feel. 

Daughters trapped in the role of Good Daughter feel an intense pressure to make their narcissistically defended mothers look and feel good. In childhood and young adulthood, daughters may strive to fulfill this need through achievement, performance, and—above all—good behavior. The first priority is making Mom look like a great mom, not the growing independence and needs of Daughter.

As an adult, Daughter takes on the role of making Mom feel needed, relevant, and special. She labors under the pressure to fill Mom’s need to remain primary in her life, as Mom’s narcissistic defenses mandate this to be so.

Daughters of narcissistically defended mothers typically sacrifice their own emotional authenticity in order to keep their mothers happy. In short, they don’t know how they feel. They only know how they should behave in order to fulfill Mom’s needs and how they should make her feel. As a result, they may experience guilt, shame, and self-doubt as they struggle with internal conflict. Often, they may be unaware of the intrapsychic conflict behind their struggle. As they attempt to move toward independence, they may feel guilty or ashamed without fully understanding why. These daughters may also unconsciously sabotage their successes in order to keep their mother relevant.

In short, Mom’s emotions can crush the Good Daughter’s essential self and rule her life. The demands and pressures of the Good Daughter role underlie much of the anxiety and depression seen in women today.

How Can Mother and Daughter Heal From This Dynamic?

A daughter’s yearning—her need—to individuate and grow apart from her mother is in conflict with the competing desire to gain both her mother’s approval and the permission to separate psychologically. In a dynamic where the mother is narcissistically defended, this permission is unlikely to be granted. When a mother’s need to be relevant prevents her from letting her daughter go, her daughter is harmed, and she is also at risk for repeating the cycle with her own daughter.

Through psychotherapy, daughters can gain awareness of their internal conflict. The support of a trained and compassionate counselor can help them get in touch with their healthy striving for psychological independence and explore how to make this separation. By breaking free of the cycle of covert narcissism, the Good Daughter can empower her own daughter while healing herself.

Mothers with traits of covert narcissism can also benefit from psychotherapy, when they are willing to do the hard work it requires. Our culture does little to support mothers as they lose relevance in their daughter’s lives, but through therapy, mothers who struggle to let go can confront this difficulty and learn strategies to absorb, incorporate, and even grow from the losses they experience as their daughters grow and reach adulthood.

Note: This article refers specifically to the dynamic between a mother with traits of covert narcissism and her daughter. Parent-child relationships of any gender combination can be similarly touched by covert narcissism. 

References: 

1. Payson, E. D. (2009). The wizard of Oz & other narcissists. Royal Oak, MI: Julian Day Publications.
2. Miller, A. (1997). The drama of the gifted child, revised ed. New York, NY: Basic Books.
3. Lerner, H. (1985). The dance of anger: A woman’s guide to changing the patterns of intimate relationships. New York, NY: Harper & Roy Publishers, Inc.

The specific era in which a person begins to bridge the gap between childhood and adulthood doesn’t matter, relative to one prevailing fact: it is difficult. Volumes of the world’s literature are devoted to this phase of development, acknowledging the fundamental nature of coming of age as one of life’s greatest crucibles. Psychologists call it individuation, a time in which a healthy young person extricates themselves from the known world of childhood and forges an independent personality and experience.

In a perfect world, this struggle has two distinct poles: enmeshment (in the family unit as a child) and independent identity (as an adult in the world). The result of the struggle is the psychosocial location of an individual, which is the basis for their future and the point of view from which all that is to follow is experienced.

But never in history has the world been perfect. The struggle is messy and often incomplete until well into what we would call adulthood: what becomes, for many, a life of work, mortgages, and child-rearing.

What Role Does Higher Education Play in Individuation?

The concept of psychological adolescence itself is relatively new. As most people know, children historically worked in the fields, in the mines, and later in workshops. It wasn’t until after World War II that Western cultures provided the opportunity for the extended time of self-discovery we call the teenage years, as millions of baby boomers left their burgeoning high schools for university campuses and the wide world of liberal education. [fat_widget_right]

College days were for academics, of course. But an equally significant aspect of the four years of college was the time spent exploring what it means to be human, and to be one unique human being in particular. What was studied in class was pondered and discussed and challenged. Through the informal means of sharing questions with peers, hearing converging points of view, and discovering conflicting values, coursework became integrated into personhood. College was a living science experiment, and the result was self-awareness and a sense of responsibility to others beyond oneself.

This is the part of higher education that is often left out of arguments declaring the uselessness of college degrees, specifically degrees in the liberal arts, which are at times devalued and even ridiculed. In my opinion, this denigration is a tragedy.

Liberal does not describe politics in this context. It refers to the freedom encountered by the open mind. And with freedom comes responsibility, which Freud acknowledged as the reason many fear it. Gradual exposure to and development of the notion of responsibility is one of the fruits of liberal education. Without exposure to the liberal arts, where will our thinkers come from? Who will be poised to discern the greater welfare? How will compassion erupt from a field devoid of the experiences engendered by self-exploration and exposure to the vast world presented to college students in literature classes, through philosophy, through art? And if there is no sense of history and the nature of human cycles, where will temperance come from?

Gradual exposure to and development of the notion of responsibility is one of the fruits of liberal education. Without exposure to the liberal arts, where will our thinkers come from?

Sensitive young people today continue to struggle with these questions. Many are still drawn to the liberal arts in a culture that values STEM (science, technology, engineering, and math) degrees. They may be tuned into nuance and subtlety by nature of their intelligence and emerging maturity, but they are growing up in a divisive culture in which these characteristics are often trampled in the public square, where false equivalencies seem to abound and divide.

Before they know where they stand, they may see that making determinations about their own values will probably align them, like it or not, with one side or another in the culture wars of zero-sum politics. But STEM degrees are simply not for everyone. And industry is beginning to show that more is necessary for success in the workplace than technical knowledge of a field, as Google recently revealed.

Using Fantasy to Cope with Difficulty and Distress

Many therapists may be increasingly seeing a manifestation of this heightened sense of not fitting in, not to mention the other pressures facing today’s young adults, in young people seeking help who prefer to discuss with fervor their fantasy worlds of elves, unicorns, and diverse realms of the imagination. Generally, it is not prudent for us to pathologize this. More often than not, an intense focus on fantasy indicates life distress that points directly to the difficulty of coming of age in these divisive times. As a therapist, I open a discussion to explore the personal particulars of this difficulty in the hopes of helping those I work with develop skills for understanding the world around them.

My goal is to help them bring into their daily lives the same energy and determination that allows them to challenge evil and dragons in the worlds of their imaginations, even in the face of what seems like great odds. There is power in these strong attachments to imaginary creatures and dilemmas. To channel the power into an adolescent’s path toward maturity can further personal growth and help the adolescent become a strong individual. The touchstones for confidence derived from fantasy attachments can easily last a lifetime.

The divisive nature of today’s political environment is part of a cycle, one that, I believe, will pass. History is full of examples left to us by those who faced these struggles before us. The contributions of Goethe. Michelangelo. Shakespeare stand alongside those of Galileo, Curie, and Einstein. Together, their imaginations have kept the flame lit for us for generations. As always, our youth is our hope.

If struggles in the realm of the imagination can help youth navigate reality, as a tool these struggles become powerful. Unicorns and elves have potent magic, and I believe it is of benefit to let our youth be guided by their symbolic value, not dismissed as escapists.

We can begin with the small step of acknowledging the undue pressure we place on students whose natures lead them toward the liberal arts, and we can continue by allowing them their fantasies. Middle Earth has much to offer, and who are we to judge the chosen instrument of deliverance for a generation? We are not of their time. We do not know. We can only offer support and do our best to keep from harm those who come after us.

Reference:

Strauss, V. (2017, December 20). The surprising thing Google learned about its employees—and what it means for today’s students. The Washington Post. Retrieved from https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/answer-sheet/wp/2017/12/20/the-surprising-thing-google-learned-about-its-employees-and-what-it-means-for-todays-students/?utm_term=.b9239650a30d

In our first session, Isabel, an agitated newcomer to therapy, declared: “I can’t stand it when Molly is upset about anything. For 16 years, it’s been my job to keep her happy and make sure nothing interferes with her always feeling good about herself. I get anxious when she’s anxious, and I work very hard to make sure her bad feelings go away. I don’t feel like a good mother unless I make sure Molly never has uncomfortable feelings.”

At first glance, it’s easy to conclude that Isabel’s comment is the expression of a parent who wants to see their child grow up to be a happy, self-confident person. Indeed, Isabel is dedicated to raising Molly to become a person with high self-regard and the ability to have successful relationships and positive feelings about life. While this is a laudable goal, Isabel’s method for helping Molly attain it is flawed.

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Isabel’s statement captures the viewpoint of many parents who believe good parenting means never letting their child have intolerable feelings. This raises questions about the consequences for children of parents such as Isabel. I am going to explore this parenting experience and look at the potential impact on the children when parents smooth over or facilitate the avoidance of anxieties and other uncomfortable emotions.

Developing Competence with Uncomfortable Feelings

From childhood through adulthood, the ability to tolerate uncomfortable and unwanted feelings is essential for negotiating every kind of relationship. If we learn early on that we have the wherewithal to get through situations that make us uneasy, anxious, unhappy, angry, etc., we are in a good position to manage our lives. This is learned through repeated encounters with these feelings, the successes and failures of dealing with them, and finally the experience of oneself as competent to manage.

By running interference for uncomfortable feelings, Isabel has been depriving Molly of developing her capacity to regulate her own emotions by feeling them and developing comfort with them. This constricts Molly’s ability to relate and leaves her without the necessary experiences that promote resilience and competence with her anxieties. Instead, she must find ways to defend against these unwanted feeling states and/or remain dependent on others to make them tolerable.

The Dance of Anxiety

Isabel has lived her life avoiding her own difficult feelings and now is devoted to protecting Molly from unwanted emotions. For Isabel, Molly’s discomfort or unhappiness is not simply a painful affect that they both must endure; rather, it is a signal that she is failing at her job of mothering. This signal creates intolerable anxieties for Isabel which, along with Molly’s uncomfortable feelings, must be eliminated. The need to protect herself and Molly from such unwanted feelings has become a central dynamic of her mothering.

The difficult issue for both Molly and Isabel is they both require the absence of anxiety. But each makes the other anxious. Molly has been a participant in this mother-daughter dynamic for most of her 16 years. The awareness that her anxiety makes her mother anxious makes her more anxious. This creates the (often unconscious) dilemma of how to both make her mother comfortable and get rid of her own anxiety. As a result, there is a dance of anxiety in which each partner attempts, but often fails, to self-regulate and simultaneously regulate the other.

In our work together, Isabel has come to understand that her anxiety over Molly’s emotional state has created problems for their relationship:

“I know I have to stop constantly taking her emotional temperature,” Isabel said. “Things between us are not so good. She’s getting older and I can see that she has a lot of anxiety about herself and her life. In the past few months, we’ve started fighting. It’s crazy-making. Either she yells at me that I’m controlling her and that I should butt out of her life or she comes to me in an agitated state and needs to be talked off a ledge about something. The thing is, I do help her and then we have a respite and I’m the good mother again and she seems happy—and I am too.”

I asked Isabel what she thought about Molly’s recent confrontational behaviors. She sighed a large sigh and responded:

When one is deprived of learning to cope with uncomfortable feelings, it is likely that compensatory strategies for dealing with discomfort with others are developed. Relationships must be constructed to elicit positive reactions and avoid creating unwanted feelings. This limits relational possibilities and requires (consciously and unconsciously) the concealing of one’s authentic thoughts and feelings.

“Well, you and I have been talking for some time now and I get that my anxiety over Molly’s feeling states hasn’t given her tools to grow up or take risks and learn that she’s capable of taking care of herself. I know in my head it’s a good thing for Molly that she can assert herself with me. She’s been so dependent on me and I don’t like to admit that I like that. But I can still get scared when she is upset. When she confronts me, I know she is having emotions that are too much for her. I feel so guilty that I become like the scared child I was with my parents and I do whatever she wants so she won’t be upset with me.”

What Isabel is describing captures two important issues that her behavior with Molly has impacted:

1. Limit setting: Because she can’t tolerate Molly’s unhappiness, Isabel has been unable to set limits for Molly when she experiences Molly’s unhappiness or displeasure with a limit. For example, when Molly gets angry at something Isabel asserts, Isabel can’t manage her own feelings and quickly gives in to make both their bad feelings disappear.

When there are no limits or when the child has too much power or control, she may become frightened (often unconsciously) with being given so much sway over a parent. Feelings of safety and being taken care of are compromised when the caretakers are not in control. Without a safe base growing up, independent actions and thoughts become risky, impeding the process of separation/individuation.

2. Dependency: Difficulties in future relationships are likely as Molly has not learned to self-regulate and has come to rely on significant others to maintain her positive emotional equilibrium, often at the cost of not knowing her own mind.

Relationships are dominated by the need to avoid intolerable feelings. In order to guarantee that others are pleased and no one has unwanted feelings, consideration and knowledge of what one wants is surrendered to others. There is a need to be agreeable, have no differing or opposing thoughts and feelings, and, in general, control the feelings of others to ensure everyone’s happy, satisfied feelings. This creates dependence on others for reassurance and approval of wishes, desires, and choices.

Anxiety About Anxiety

When one is deprived of learning to cope with uncomfortable feelings, it is likely that compensatory strategies for dealing with discomfort with others are developed. Relationships must be constructed to elicit positive reactions and avoid creating unwanted feelings. This limits relational possibilities and requires (consciously and unconsciously) the concealing of one’s authentic thoughts and feelings. In situations where the upset is so unbearable, the need to protect oneself may require hiding these feelings from one’s own conscious awareness, causing dissociation in the service of managing the feelings that emerge in interaction with others.

The dilemma of how to stay anxiety-free may lead Molly to become dependent on her mother for assurances that her life decisions are acceptable and will not create anxiety for either one. If she hands over this process to her mother, she will not develop the ability to regulate her own feelings and she will deprive herself of developing an identity separate from her mother: who she is and what she wants will be determined by the guideline of safety first—no intolerable feelings, not for Molly and not for her mother. It can become unclear who is taking care of whom. If Molly begins to feel trapped by this situation, she may also choose to deal with her discomfort and her mother’s anxiety by detaching from or rejecting her mother. For Molly, both dissociation and detachment would result in disconnection from herself.

Isabel could also deal with her anxiety by dissociating or detaching from Molly. This implies that, for the most part, her feelings about Molly would be largely on hold. While a parent could unconsciously solve the anxiety dance by unconsciously opting to anesthetize themselves, it is hard to imagine that Isabel would, under any circumstances, become so emotionally disconnected from Molly.

Isabel and I have been working on a strategy that requires conscious cooperation with herself. We have been talking about how she can reframe her “bad mother” thoughts to understand that allowing Molly to have her uncomfortable feelings is an act of good mothering that enables Molly to develop the skills to regulate her own feelings. Isabel intellectually understands that she and Molly need to be less dependent on each other for maintaining comfortable feeling states. She also recognizes she is in a symbiotic relationship with Molly that keeps Molly from being able to reflect about her own life and learn about her own wants and needs.

It is painful for Isabel to move beyond her intellectual understanding of her impact on Molly:

“I just don’t know if I can get there. I want to be able to feel like a good mother when I stand by and don’t soothe and reassure Molly. But it’s scary when I’m aware I did something that upsets her and I don’t jump in and make it okay. I’ve been trying, and she seems more anxious and she gets angry at me, which is horrible. I keep telling myself that she has to learn that she can take care of her own feelings. I tell myself she is not responsible to make me feel good. I tell myself over and over. I’m beginning to hear myself, but it’s so, so, so hard to listen to myself. But I do know I have to do this for Molly, even if it seems I’m hurting her. I hope you will stay with me while I keep trying.”

I will.

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.

When I think about the people I work with in therapy who struggle with issues of separation and individuation, I notice that many who are confused or conflicted about who they are and what they want are very good at knowing what others need. They are often in relationships with significant others (e.g., partners, parents) where their role is to function as an emotional caretaker. In this role, they feel required to take on the responsibility for managing the emotional life of the other to assure that no uncomfortable and unwanted feelings are experienced. Not only does this require that they be on alert for the impact of the world on their significant other, but, most important, the caretaker must never be the cause of the other’s unwanted feelings. Critically, they must never allow their own wishes and desires to be considered as they undertake their role of regulating and soothing the other’s feelings.

What the Child Needs

From birth, the nature of the attachment between the infant and the primary caregiver impacts the development of the child’s sense of self and lays the groundwork for becoming an adult who can feel safe and secure in the world. The child needs a predictable, reliable relationship with a significant other who is able to be attuned to the infant and respond to their needs. This is essential for nourishing the development of an emotionally healthy human being who can trust and feel confident, valued, and stable. When these fundamental needs are absent, the infant is deprived of the resources and ability to reliably know who they are, what they need, and how to get their needs met.

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The child develops into an emotional caretaker when parents fail to supply the basic needs that good enough parents provide and, instead, the child is expected to provide for the parents’ needs. Some of the critical ingredients that allow children to blossom into loving, resilient, separate, self-aware grown-ups include the experiences of being:

• Thought about—i.e., know they are in their parents’ minds (mentalization)
• Mirrored
• Loved
• Helped to manage limits and have boundaries

And having:

• Interest and curiosity about them expressed

Factors Associated with the Inability to Nurture

There are many factors that make it difficult for children, at all stages of development, to receive the basic requirements for getting the needed responses from their parents and/or significant others. The following (which refers to parents, primary caregivers, and significant others) is a very incomplete list of factors associated with the child becoming an emotional caretaker. This includes parents who are:

• Behaviorally narcissistic
• Needy
• Fragile
• Passive
• Substance abusing
• Sexually abusive
• Physically abusive
• Divorced
• Suicidal
• Deceased

The Development of the Emotional Caretaker

What the parents in the list above share is an overriding interest in having the child meet their needs and a lack of awareness of and/or inability to be attuned to, care about, or consider their child’s needs as a frequent enough priority. The child learns they are expected to be responsible for regulating the parent’s emotions so the parent can be relieved of experiencing uncomfortable and intolerable feelings. If the child is successful in keeping the parent in a positive, contented state, they will be rewarded with the parent’s approval, interest, and connection. If unsuccessful, the child can feel isolated, abandoned, anxious, depressed, alone, guilty, terrified, and ungrounded. This puts the child at risk of believing the child is responsible and deserving of the parent’s neglect and disapproval.

Fran is a 56-year-old mother who feels required to caretake her significant others. She came into our session reporting a panic attack when her daughter told her she wasn’t supportive enough of the daughter’s wish to change jobs:

“I thought I was being supportive,” Fran said. “How could I be such an awful mother and make such a terrible mistake? I’m usually so careful and figure out just the right thing that makes my daughter happy. She’s 23 now, but since she was born I‘ve been on constant alert to any upset she might have and I feel like I’ve done something horrible when I can’t make her feel better.”

Fran struggles with anxiety in her relationships with her daughter and her husband. She has transferred the “powerful mother-compliant daughter” relationship she experienced in her childhood onto these familial relationships. Fran learned the necessity of emotional caretaking from infancy when she understood, if only unconsciously, that to get any of her own needs met and to not feel like a terrible person, she always had to make her mother a priority.

Learning to value oneself, and learning to feel comfortable considering oneself a priority, will evoke those old feelings. It is a formidable task to question the basis of those feelings and contemplate rejecting the definitions of self they imply.

Fran recalled that, as a child, “I was so attached to my mother. She could make me feel so good when she paid attention to me. But I always knew those feelings could disappear in a second if I missed her wish or didn’t fix some upset feeling. My father was a salesman and away a lot and he was also an emotionally distant person. I understand now that my mother had some trauma in her childhood. Her mother died when she was very young. But it’s hard to think she was, and still is, a fragile, needy person when she seems so large and powerful to me. I see that now, but it doesn’t change the power she had over me then and even now.”

I wondered: “How is she powerful now?”

Fran replied: “She’s going to be 80 and she looks so small. But maybe that makes it worse. I worry even more that I can hurt her. Every time I don’t figure out correctly what she wants or fail to give it to her, she feels hurt. I remember one time, I must have been 8 or 9, and I wanted to go on a sleepover to my friend’s house. My father must have been on the road. I was pretty good at not asking for things I figured my mother wouldn’t want me to have. I didn’t want to upset her. Maybe I remember this because it was unusual for me to even let myself know what I wanted, let alone ask. But I asked and—I’ll never forget that look. It was so full of scary feelings. I probably couldn’t identify them at the time, but I guess there was anger, contempt, disgust directed at me. I think I was terrified. Probably what made it worse—and I can’t be absolutely sure of this memory—is that her words, which she said sweetly, were something like, ‘Oh, I thought we would spend some time together.’ She may not actually have told me that I couldn’t go, but I got the message she was the sweet mom and I was the mean daughter.”

The Child’s Adaptation to the Parent’s Needs

The parent’s caretaking of the child is conditional on the child’s success in caretaking the parent. Typically, the child will begin to feel like a bad person for not fulfilling the parent’s wishes and desires. These feelings are learned early through the parent’s conscious, unconscious, direct, and indirect communications. The most powerful lessons are not conveyed through words as much as through the child’s felt experiences of (1) anxiety for not responding successfully; (2) guilt for not being good enough; and/or (3) shame for being thoughtless, hurtful, neglectful, etc. of the parent.

The child learns (mostly unconsciously) to choose approval and love which they earn if they excel at recognizing and responding to the parent’s needs. Thus, to avoid painful feelings and create hope for good feelings, the child becomes hyper-focused on what the parent needs and wants. They must be hypervigilant in their attunement to the parent and dedicate themselves to keeping the parent in an emotionally even place. However, even if they are successful, the good feelings are transient and can easily be disrupted if the parent feels the child has loosened their vigilant devotion. Thus, the vigilance must not cease.

Fran’s awareness of what her mother wanted brought quick compliance. Most likely she was unaware of her own conflicts. The child’s anxious attention to their parent’s needs necessitates the (often unconscious) blocking out of awareness of their own wishes and desires. It is reasonable to assume that as Fran reacted to that look, her unconscious functioned to erase any desire to know or consider her own needs, allowing her to avoid bad feelings and focus on possible good feelings spending time with her mother. It’s also possible that simply expressing her desire for the sleepover might have ruled out any approval for Fran’s ultimate compliance.

The emotional caretaker has little choice but to become a compliant person who is dependent on the parent to be the ultimate definer of who they are, what they need, and how they should think and feel about themselves. Self-reflection, discovering one’s own desires and feelings, learning what one wants, and feeling comfortable about getting it can be dangerous. This dynamic does not support the child’s growth and development into a unique individual who can feel confident, worthy, safe, and secure.

Becoming Free of the Emotional Caretaker Response

The process of becoming a person who can know what they need and be comfortable asking for it, instead of automatically caretaking the significant other, can be difficult and painful. Since prioritizing the other has been well developed to avoid horrific feelings, it is understandable that changing this behavior will require tolerating the many feelings from significant others that have been vigilantly avoided.

Learning to value oneself, and learning to feel comfortable considering oneself a priority, will evoke those old feelings. It is a formidable task to question the basis of those feelings and contemplate rejecting the definitions of self they imply. The early parent-child relationship needs to be explored, and it will be painful to recognize the parent’s role in creating these bad self-feelings. Additional pain can be expected as one attempts to change behaviors in relation to significant others. What is difficult, but necessary, is to develop the tolerance for the emergence of bad feelings while changing behavior from always prioritizing the significant other to giving equal consideration to oneself.

As one becomes increasingly aware of one’s own needs, it may be emotionally demanding to say no to loved ones and choose oneself. The goal is to develop the ability to find balance between attending to those we love and prioritizing ourselves. This balance is developed simultaneously with the growth of new definitions of self as a person who feels secure, valuable, confident, and loveable.

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.

Some of us grow up in families where we are not emotionally free to express our desires and needs and feel compelled to be compliant in social relationships (especially with significant others). As a result, the process of becoming a person who knows what they want and how to get it is foreclosed. Instead, motivated by expectations of others, there is little room to develop an identity along with feelings of self-worth and self-acceptance.

Nancy, a married high school teacher with a 19-year-old son, came to see me when her anxiety was becoming overwhelming and her family relationships were increasingly irritating:

“I don’t know what’s going on with me,” she said. “I don’t recognize myself. I’m sniping at my husband and son all the time; I’m always in my head worried about something. Everyone annoys me. I don’t return my friends’ calls or emails; I even got irritated with my mom on the phone last week. It really upset me when I did that.”

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I asked Nancy to tell me more about what she didn’t recognize about herself and if she had any hunches about what was influencing these behavioral changes. She began to describe increasing feelings of annoyance:

“The past few months, I feel like I’ve been in a constant state of irritation with everyone. This is not me. I never get angry at people. I’ve always prided myself on having a mellow and understanding temperament. I can get along with anybody. My husband always praises me about how I’m such a good listener and that I’m so agreeable and easygoing. I’ve always thought of myself that way. Lately, I guess, especially with my son Tony and my mother, I find myself feeling disagreeable. It’s probably related to my son wanting to go away to France next year for his junior year abroad.”

Nancy continued:

“The world feels like it’s becoming such a dangerous place and I really worry about his going. My husband is ambivalent, so it feels like it’s up to me. I can’t stand the idea of him being so far away with everything that’s happening. I talked to my mom, who I was sure would understand because when I thought about taking a junior semester abroad she was really against it. She was anxious, and I didn’t go. So I thought she’d support me with Tony. But she didn’t, and I was shocked and angry. I never get angry at my mother. Now I’m this angry person and I feel so anxious. It’s scary not to recognize myself. I don’t like this new me. She’s unacceptable.”

Nancy described her new unknown self as a person who felt out of control with her feelings and at risk for getting into conflicts. She was clearly uncomfortable with her unfamiliar “not me” feelings and behaviors.

As we explored her relationship to the familiar agreeable, compliant, and understanding Nancy, we began to discover the old accommodating Nancy had also created some difficulties for her life:

“It’s hard to admit to myself that I depend so much on positive responses from my family and sometimes my friends. I always look outside of myself for reassurance that I’m doing the right thing or have the right idea. It’s the only way I can feel good about myself. It’s getting more difficult to always be so pleasing. But it’s terrifying to displease. I feel like such a bad person for not being in agreement with my mom and my son. But I have this new feeling of resentment—like I don’t want to give in. I really don’t want my son to go to France and I’m just not used to having different ideas from my family. It’s very confusing and I don’t feel like a good person.”

While Nancy was accustomed to always pleasing her family, it was frequently at the expense of allowing herself to be in contact with her own needs and wishes:

“I guess I haven’t had much experience allowing myself to know what I want or where I stand on most things. I suppose you could say I don’t have a mind of my own. Now it seems like all of a sudden I let myself have a wish for my son’s safety and then when I allowed myself to express it, I couldn’t stand that there was opposition. I felt horrible that I got angry, especially with my mother, who gets instantly hurt around anger. My son is also upset with me, and we usually manage to not be at odds with each other. He’s a good kid, so I don’t have to set a lot of rules for him. He’s like me. He doesn’t get angry and he does what his father and I say. He’s not really pushing back that much on the France thing, but it’s awful to disappoint him.”

Nancy and I have work to do. As we explore her memories from childhood through the present, she is seeing how her behavior and thinking is motivated by her desire to meet expectations of how she should be and to avoid disapproval:

“I can remember when I was a little girl, maybe as young as 4 or 5, I would get very scared when my mom seemed worried or annoyed. I somehow must have learned that I could change her feelings and make her happy. When I would see the look on her face that gave me that ‘uh oh’ feeling, I would hug her or start to sing You Are My Sunshine and she’d hug me back and then the look would go away.”

From earliest development, children develop feelings of security and connection when the mother’s responses are attuned and positive. If those responses, which ideally convey feelings of recognition, love, and positive attachment, are dependent on the child being in compliance with parental expectations, the child doesn’t feel safe and secure and can develop a fragile sense of self.

As we further explored how this dynamic played out in Nancy’s past and present, it became clear that, growing up, Nancy’s experiences of her mother and her “look” were a serious influence on Nancy’s emotional development. Moreover, Nancy’s sense of self was impacted by her mother’s need to have Nancy regulate her feelings when she became upset (angry, hurt, etc.). Nancy’s sense of self and her own feeling states became dependent on her mother’s affect remaining calm.

I asked Nancy to tell me more about how the “look” made her feel and why she thought she needed to make it go away. She told me:

“It’s probably the same now as when I was a kid. When that look spreads over her face, it seems that she disappears from me. When I think of it, even if I know it has nothing to do with me, it still feels as if I made it happen and I have to do something to make her feel better so she’ll come back to me. Even if it’s something else that upsets or hurts her, I can still feel like it’s my fault, that I’ve done something wrong to make her abandon me. I end up feeling like a worthless, horrible person.”

Nancy is not accustomed to finding herself in disagreement with her family members. This makes her confused and she questions her ideas and feelings that are different and/or in opposition to the opinions and desires of her significant others. At the same time, she increasingly understands her sense of self-worth and self-acceptance have been strongly tied to being fully in agreement with her family and that her compliance and surrender of her mind has been to avoid feelings of disapproval, guilt, shame, anxiety, anger, etc.

Now Nancy is increasingly feeling these feelings. In one session, her voice rose in anger:

“I want to have a mind of my own. I don’t want to feel at the mercy of others to determine what I think and feel. I don’t want to have to please others to avoid all those awful bad and intolerable feelings.”

From earliest development, children develop feelings of security and connection when the mother’s responses are attuned and positive. If those responses, which ideally convey feelings of recognition, love, and positive attachment, are dependent on the child being in compliance with parental expectations, the child doesn’t feel safe and secure and can develop a fragile sense of self. Without positive responses and feelings of value conveyed to the child by the parent, the development of self-acceptance and self-worth are impaired. This leaves the child in an anxious, unprotected state of not knowing what they want, who they are, and how to be in the world. It leaves the child dependent on the parent to define what they think and how they feel. When Nancy considered that she doesn’t have a mind of her own, she was expressing her awareness she has not developed an autonomous sense of who she is.

‘I’m Beginning to Have a Me’

Nancy has been working hard to overcome her resistance to tolerating those bad-person feeling states. She is better able to sit with disappointing or angering her significant others, and her guilt and shame are diminishing. As she feels and expresses more true self-feelings, she can see that while her mother and son aren’t always pleased with her and might withdraw their good feelings in the moment, they do emotionally return to the relationship able to express positive and loving feelings.

Nancy’s efforts are enabling her to develop a mind that knows what she wants. She is learning to tolerate negative responses from others and not take disapproval to mean her thoughts and feelings are unacceptable or that she has done something wrong. Smiling, Nancy told me:

“I am really beginning to know that it’s okay to want what I want no matter what anyone says. It’s getting easier to face opposition without being scared or feeling like a horrible person. I keep reminding myself: it’s just my ideas; no one can control my thoughts. I really like that they’re mine. I’m beginning to have a me.”

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.

People pleasing is a way to reduce anxiety and eliminate stress. Some please to assure good feelings that come with positive responses like being approved of, admired, praised, or respected. Others please because of strong needs to avoid bad feelings that occur when, for example, others criticize, complain, or become angry. But there are some people who are not typical people pleasers. Instead, they live with intense anxiety that if they don’t behave in ways that elicit strong approval and avoid disapproval from others, the consequences will destroy their sense of well-being and safety. These are what I will refer to, for the purposes of this article, as terrified people pleasers.

Relationships and Terrified People Pleasers

Terrified people pleasers view the world as an impending source of danger. They tend to see relationships much like earthquakes and hurricanes: at any time, often with little warning, attachment to others can wreak great destruction in their lives. Vigilance and compliance become guidelines for safety.

Samantha walked into my office, and before I could ask, “What brings you here?” I found myself in the presence of an avalanche of feelings from someone who seemed to be a very angry, upset, frightened woman.

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“This is it. I can’t take it anymore,” she said. “All my friends are never available and selfish. I’m 63 years old, and I’m going to die alone. I’ve been seeing Marty on and off for 10 years, and he’s like everyone else: self-involved, stubborn, unloving or loving depending on his mood. I tell you, it’s enough! I’m so good to everyone, and they get what they want. I’m afraid to do things and be on my own, and I have to rely on people who always have time for each other but not for me. I’m tired of being angry and depressed and giving everyone what they want. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t seem to enjoy anything. No one likes me, and I hate everyone.”

It would take many months for me to understand the narrative of Samantha’s life. In our early sessions, Samantha described her anger and unhappiness with her friends who didn’t appreciate how she was always there for them and never reciprocated. She described taking them to dinner, helping them move into apartments, visiting when they were sick: “I did all the things a good friend does. Do you think I really wanted to be so helpful and attentive? No, I didn’t. But I felt that I had to be the perfect friend or they would all drop me. I sort of feel dropped anyway. No one ever offers to help me with anything.”

Samantha repeats this pattern of behavior with Marty: “I always work hard to figure out what he wants, and I work very hard to provide it even when I want to say ‘no.’ Then I resent him, but I’m scared he’ll leave me if I ask for anything. So for the last 10 years, our relationship has been crazy in and out. We date, we’re lovers, we’re friends, we stop seeing each other for a while, and then it starts all over again. Mostly, I freak out if either one of us gets angry. I always worry he’s going to be critical or distant, and I‘m never sure if I want him to stay or leave, but I get panic attacks if I think he wants to leave.”

When we explored this experience that felt so one-sided, it became apparent Samantha never asked friends for help or indicated any wish to be celebrated: “I don’t know, I guess it never feels okay to ask for anything. I’m afraid they’ll say no, and I’ll feel hurt and angry. I think I really have the feeling that they don’t want to please me like I don’t really want to please them. But I have no choice. I have to do it or I’ll be hurt and alone.”

Family Origins and Terrified People Pleasing

As her story unfolded, I could visualize the frightened little girl who had been designated by her father to be responsible for her mother. Although never medically diagnosed, I believe Samantha’s mother was probably bipolar. She describes a mother of unpredictable extremes: the mother who danced around the kitchen was funny, silly, all hugs, and the mother who stayed in bed, was silent or angry, and made several suicide attempts. Her father, a rarely present man who worked too much, praised Samantha for taking good care of her mother and would tell her, “You’re my good girl doing your job for us to make sure mommy is okay.”

Her father and her brother, older by three years, were emotionally detached from Samantha and her mother. Samantha recalled, “I was 12. It was the second time my mother tried to kill herself. I found her in bed with an empty bottle of pills, hardly breathing. I called 911 and my father. I don’t know where my brother was. My father told me to go in the ambulance with my mother and stay with her. He told me what a good girl I was. I don’t remember if he came to the hospital. He must have come to take me home. I just remember feeling so alone. I also felt so good that I made my father happy. There wasn’t much I could do to get that feeling.”

Much like the experience with her parents, her compliance resulted only in the transient feeling of being loved. From day to day and perhaps minute to minute, Samantha could not depend on her parents for reliable and consistent loving feelings. How could she trust anyone to love her or want to be with her?

I learned that Samantha craved the feeling of being the good girl and feeling that her mother and father loved her: “There wasn’t much I could do that would make me feel my father loved me. It looked like he loved my brother, who he did things with and joked with. He didn’t talk with me much except when he would ask about mom and how she was doing. I could get wonderful, loving feelings from my mother. I knew just what to do. I’d come home early to be with her after school. I never brought friends home. I thought she’d be mad that I wasn’t totally there for her, but I also didn’t want them to see how she was. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t put it into words. What was so scary for me was I’d never know which mother I would encounter on any day. She could be funny and hug and love me, or depressed and silent and absent. I’d feel so abandoned and then helpless to figure out how to make her happy and get her back so she could love me.”

One day, Samantha came to her session looking agitated. She told me: “I need to tell you about something. This is the memory I can’t get out of my head. It’s excruciating.” She burst into sobs: “I was terrified every day that she would kill herself. She did. In my senior year, I was talking about going to the local college, and I felt she was upset with me. I don’t know if that’s true, but I was afraid I was abandoning her. I thought maybe she and my father would be mad that I might not still be able to watch over her. In February of my senior year, I came home on a cold, snowy day. She wasn’t in the kitchen, and I felt that scary feeling I always got when she was in the bedroom when I got home. I went upstairs to her room and I knew as soon as I opened the door. I can’t say any more.”

Samantha learned very early that her behavior could lead to terrifying consequences: In order to feel safe, it was required that she make her parents happy. The dread of making them unhappy created panic and terror. Her detached father gave her the feelings of being valued, loved, and connected only if she played her ascribed role of caring for her mother’s emotional life and keeping her alive. Her mother’s erratic and unpredictable emotional life made it difficult for Samantha to feel she had any ability to know, predictably, how to please her mother.

Samantha had no space to develop an identity other than “the daughter who pleases her parents.” Separation and individuation were not an option, as it was too dangerous to think about her own wishes, needs, and desires.

Ambivalent Anxious Attachment

Samantha’s inability to make satisfying attachments to the people in her life mirrored her early attachments in her family. Perhaps the best categorization of Samantha’s attachment style is “ambivalent anxious attachment.” In this kind of attachment, the connection is characterized by mistrust and worry, but the need for the attachment is nevertheless intense. This pattern of attachment repeats itself in Samantha’s friendships and in her relationship with Marty. Even when wanting to say “no” to their wishes, desires, and perspectives, she always agreed. Much like the experience with her parents, her compliance resulted only in the transient feeling of being loved. From day to day and perhaps minute to minute, Samantha could not depend on her parents for reliable and consistent loving feelings. How could she trust anyone to love her or want to be with her?

Samantha has begun to understand how she repeats her early attachment style. She is learning to use thinking to override the terror and panic which emerge when she starts to feel that Marty is angry with her or a best friend doesn’t return texts or invite her to social events. This awareness is helping to diminish the degree of anxiety that occurs when she feels she’s being abandoned. She also is starting to see that her anger is evoked when she is suspicious about what people think of her and want from her.

Samantha is struggling. But she is committed to working at making changes in her patterns of attachment. As she alters her expectations and reactions to the people in her life, I expect they will respond to her in new ways. She has become increasingly able, in the moment, to consider that her assessments of her relationships based on historical responses are likely to need revision. As we continue to work, I believe she will continue to strengthen the power of her thinking so she can override acting on her feelings. Significantly, Samantha is developing a positive sense of self which can consider that she is making progress. She is.

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.

As we grow and develop from children to young adults, we listen and learn from the world and others around us. When others listen to and learn from us, we learn that our needs are valid and that we are valuable. We learn that we are individuals with our own identities and our own ideas and sets of behaviors. When our environment is healthy, we grow into adults with a healthy sense of self. We learn that our opinions and thoughts are important. We know who we are.

Those who do not grow up in a healthy environment—perhaps one scarred by emotional or physical abuse, neglect, or over-parenting—may not develop a sense of self in the same way. Their identities may have been minimally acknowledged, if at all. When feelings and thoughts are ignored in childhood, children may grow up not recognizing that they have their own ideas and sets of behaviors. If children are forced to yield to others’ thoughts, wants, and needs continually over time, the development of their identity may suffer. As they grow into adults, they may question, “Who am I?”

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Adults who do not have a solid sense of self at times may rely on the opinions, feelings, and thoughts of others. They may yield to their friends’ sense of fashion, buy a car that is deemed “popular,” or participate in activities they do not truly enjoy. They may allow others to make decisions for them. As this pattern continues, it can leave a person feeling depressed or anxious about choices they make and what their lives have become. They may feel helpless or even hopeless at times. Unfortunately, as this pattern continues, their sense of self may further deteriorate, leaving them feeling less and less connected to themselves.

When we have our own sense of identity, we are better able to make decisions and navigate life with more ease. We are able to include friends and partners in our lives who are emotionally healthy and with whom we can share ourselves in a healthy way. Learning about ourselves and developing a solid sense of identity can help us feel more fulfilled and happy because we are better able to guide our lives to what we desire.

The following tips can help you develop a better sense of who you are and increase self-awareness:

1. Get to Know Yourself

Begin making a list of things about you. This may feel intimidating at first, so start small. For example, make a list of five to seven easy “favorites,” such as your favorite color, favorite ice cream flavor, favorite movie, favorite flower, and favorite food. Create a new list once or twice per week and aim to include five to seven items per list. Make a list of smells you enjoy, such as warm cookies or freshly cut grass. List books you enjoyed reading or would like to read in the future. Make a list of your favorite video games or board games as a child. List states and countries you’d like to visit. Over time, expand and grow your lists to thoughts about political views, hobbies, career choices, and any other items that pique your interest. If you feel stuck, ask friends and family for suggestions about new topics.

Over time, not only will you get to know yourself better and slowly recognize your individuality, but you may begin feeling more confident in your ability to do so.

2. Listen to Your Mind and Body

If you pay attention to them, feelings and physical cues can help you develop awareness of your likes and dislikes.

Your feelings and body can tell you a lot about your thoughts and interests. When you participate in activities such as drawing, sports, or social events, how do you feel? Do you laugh and feel happy? Are you tense or relaxed? During what types of movies do you laugh or cry?

If you pay attention to them, feelings and physical cues can help you develop awareness of your likes and dislikes.

3. Begin Making Decisions

Decision-making is a skill built over time. Like a muscle, this behavior needs to be flexed to develop and stay fit.

When making decisions with friends about the next dinner get-together, be sure to cast your vote about the location and meeting time. Discuss with your partner your opinions about the remodeling of the bathroom. When grocery shopping for the family, don’t forget to pick up food you personally enjoy. Buy that new sweater you want even if you’re not sure anyone else will like it. When your friend or partner asks if you’d like to see the 7:30 or 9:30 show, state a preference instead of deferring. Have a voice and let it be heard.

4. Take Charge

As you begin to develop a sense of your interests, begin planning activities once or twice a week that engage your senses. Call a friend and invite them to participate in an activity you enjoy, or make a date with yourself and plan a fun day. Take a walk in the park, go to the market, see a new movie, sign up for the company softball event, or all of the above.

Most importantly, get out there and have fun doing what you love.

Maddy: “I hate myself. I’m just like my mother. She always bossed my father around and was so controlling with me and my brother. Now I do the same things with my husband and kids. I don’t know why I can’t stop myself from always telling them the right way to do everything. I’m her all over again.”

Frank: “I feel like a terrible person, no different than my father: so rational and unempathic. Ugh! I hated that about him; how can I be just like him? I don’t like myself when I’m that way, especially with my wife. I know it’s hurtful, but I don’t seem to be able to change.”

Ellen: “I can’t believe I’m doing to my son exactly what my mother did to me. She made me crazy with her anxiety, and now I’m doing that to him. He just graduated, and I insisted he go to a close-by college. I was so worried. I know that was selfish and not best for him. My mother’s worry always limited me. Why didn’t I stop myself from doing the same to him?”

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Maddy, Frank, and Ellen are bewildered when they find themselves repeating relationships with their parents that had a negative impact on them. Consciously, these behaviors feel unwanted and dysfunctional. They don’t wish to inflict the hurt and pain they experienced in their childhoods on their significant others. They recognize the repetition and seem puzzled and unable to understand why they feel helpless to stop.

Ambivalence About Giving up Repetitive ‘Bad’ Behaviors

Each of these individuals consciously expresses self-hate when they recognize they are hurting loved ones in the same way a significant other hurt them in childhood. They identify that their own hurtful behaviors make them feel like bad people, out of control and/or hopelessly mean. Yet they also express ambivalence about changing these behaviors. When we explore and try to make sense of their resistances to change, each person, in their own way, embraces the behaviors of the parent who offended.

Maddy: “I don’t want to be this way, but honestly, it’s hard to imagine giving up control. I really believe I do many things much better than my husband and kids. In the end, I think it’s to their advantage to do it my way.”

Frank: “I know I’m an awful person because it’s so hard for me to appreciate my wife’s feelings. But she’s so irrational. Really—does it make sense that she’s so beside herself when her friend gets annoyed with her? It drives me crazy. I know I should be more caring and understanding, but I really think she needs to get more control of herself.”

Ellen: “I know it’s selfish and wrong that I’m such a worrier and my son has become a worrier. But I’m relieved he’s extra careful and cautious in his life. He said he wanted to go away to college. But I know him, and in my heart I believe he was relieved when I said he had to go to a local school. I think he feels taken care of when I worry.”

These three individuals reflect about their actions in similar ways. Rationalizing, they believe their behaviors are acceptable. At the same time, they attack themselves for repeating with people they love in the present what was hurtful to them in the past. The contradictory notions about the effect of their behaviors make change difficult to embrace.

Even though they rationalize and describe positive outcomes from repeating the behaviors of their parents, they experience bad feelings about themselves when they hurt and create conflict with loved ones. More than experiencing themselves as hurting people they love, the idea that “I’m just like my parent” is anathema. The idea of being “just like my parents” is not simply the feeling of “similar to.” Rather, it feels like “I am my parent.” This unwanted and intolerable experience of self can interfere with feelings of self-confidence and self-esteem and can play a role in the development of anxiety and depression.

With the unending pushes and pulls (between rationalizing and self-attack) to both enact and avoid repeating these old family patterns, stuck-ness in the repetitions and conflicts is solidified.

The Role of the Unconscious

These folks are not aware of any unconscious dynamics that may be keeping them anchored to their untenable positions. But if change is to occur, an understanding of the role of the unconscious in resisting change and perpetuating early parent-child relationships is essential. The aim is to uncover the unconscious meanings of holding onto the status quo and how repeating these behaviors serves each person (even when, consciously, that doesn’t make sense to them).

I will focus on my work with Frank to describe how we explored and became familiar with his unconscious and how that helped him with his conflicts and the repetitions of his early father-son relationship.

When Frank walked into my office, I sensed a man in conflict. He was assertive and self-assured but also vulnerable and defensive. He came into therapy concerned he wasn’t cut out for marriage but wanted to work on making the marriage work.

“I love my son,” he told me. “I suppose I love my wife, too, but I don’t know about me and marriage. If only for my son, I want to make it work. It’s hard to think of her needs. I get contemptuous when she doesn’t do or see things my way. I can be mean. I hate that it makes me feel just like my father. I could never do anything right—right meant doing it his way. He was a bully. I don’t do that with my son. But I bully my wife and I can be condescending with my colleagues at work. I feel horrible when I behave like my father. He made me feel like I was nothing, and now I keep doing it to others.”

If change is to occur, an understanding of the role of the unconscious in resisting change and perpetuating early parent-child relationships is essential. The aim is to uncover the unconscious meanings of holding onto the status quo and how repeating these behaviors serves each person (even when, consciously, that doesn’t make sense to them).

Frank and I spent many sessions talking about his relationship with his father. He was close to his mother, who was also bullied and couldn’t protect him from the onslaught of demeaning and destructive behaviors he encountered. Frank had some ideas about how, because of his father, he became tough and resilient:

“I probably was about 6 and I remember telling myself I would never let him get to me. I’d never cry or give him the satisfaction that he hurt me. I never asked for anything. I left home when I graduated high school and moved to another state. I stayed in touch with my mother, who would always talk about my father. I guess I stayed curious about him. I hated him, but I never stopped wishing he would be nice to me or give me the feeling he cared. On one rare visit, I told him I was doing really well and was getting a CPA, but he didn’t say much. [Sigh.] I wish I could have made an impression on him. He died right after I got my CPA. I hate to admit it, but I never stopped wanting him to be my dad. It’s too late now.”

Frank and I became aware of how conflicted his relationship with his father was. He hated him but appreciated how his behavior drove him to seek recognition by becoming strong, independent, and ambitious. Fundamentally, Frank’s strongest feelings resided in his abiding wish for his father to “be my dad.”

When I asked Frank what “being my dad” meant to him, he was thoughtful, then tearful: “I wish he was a dad like I am. My son knows I love him. I listen to him, praise him, show him affection. I play with him. He knows how important he is to me. I never had any of that.”

The more we talked about Frank and his father, the more in touch Frank became with his longing for a father—a dad. We puzzled over what made it difficult for Frank to let go of the hated father in him. Frank began to wonder: “You and I talk about my unconscious. Maybe my unconscious believes if I hold onto my hated father long enough, I’ll get the dad I so badly want. With my son, I’m not my father, I’m a dad. Now maybe I have to let go of the father in my unconscious and be the ‘dad’ with the people I care about in the world. I sort of get that I’m struggling with this, but I don’t know how to pull it off. Maybe if I could be more of a loving dad with the people in my life, I could let go of the bad dad inside me. Then I might feel better about myself and feel recognized and appreciated in the world. How do I get there?”

Frank was well on his way to getting there when he had the profound recognition of his holding onto his father as a way of trying to experience the dad he had longed for since early childhood. It is not unusual for repetitions of hurtful early parent-child relationships to be repeated in adulthood with the unconscious wish to transform a negative or hated significant other into the idealized parent that the adult continues to long for. The holding onto the destructive parent, by taking on the parental behaviors and repeating them as one’s own, feeds the unconscious wish for having the parent under one’s control, but it doesn’t provide the wished-for, idealized parent.

When one can recognize, as Frank did, that the perpetuation of the hurtful parent doesn’t and will not provide what was missed, it is easier to let go of the repetitions and embrace a more positive role model in one’s own behavior. As a result, more positive self-feelings emerge and facilitate more loving relationships.

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.