just expressing our true longing for a different life, we suddenly collapse into a mass of anxiety and embarrassment. The ease and skill we show in our daily life evaporates when we consider changing our lives to reflect more of who we really feel ourselves to be. High on our list of anxieties is the fear of selfishness, followed closely by the fear of looking foolish. People who would not turn a hair in making expensive decisions in other areas of their lives suddenly can become indecisive and guilt- ridden over spending small amounts of time or money on their dreams.
Every one of us has a sense of who he or she really is. This instinct has been with us from the beginning, observing all that we do with the bemused and frustrated air of an impotent advisor. You know deep down whether something is right for you. There is no one who cannot tell when an activity stirs up life-giving energy or, conversely, exhausts and frustrates. We come equipped as infants to know this in our viscera, where the tide of hormones tells us what feels good and what does not You too came fully equipped to tell the difference within yourself between what is genuine and what is imposed.
Our Amazing Adaptability
The sad and marvelous thing about human beings is that we can be taught how to choose against ourselves. We are so adaptable, so smart, and so attached to our early caretakers that we can learn how to turn ourselves inside out, just to be who somebody else needs us to be. Human beings have the remarkable capacity to become something other than what they really are, and make it their reality. We are all prodigies when it comes to this talent, and we get started on it early in life.
Perhaps this is why we are so fascinated by royal families and celebrities. We know what they are up against! There is something riveting about watching a famous person caught in their role like a fox in a trap, and struggling to be a real person in spite of it. We cannot get enough of a princess with an eating disorder, or a celebrity who risks everything for a momentary high. We all know very well what it is like to want to escape from our “success,” when success has meant turning ourselves into something that we are not. But why have we become such masterful actors? Why do we spend our whole adult lives continuing to chase accomplishments that no longer satisfy our souls?
My job in this book is to help you figure out how you can build a life based on who you were meant to be, rather than who everybody else needs you to be. At a deep level, you already know the answer to the question of who you are meant to be, but for many reasons you have forgotten. Now you will reawaken the knowledge of what makes you feel alive and full of energy. Let’s look now at a couple of my clients who lost track of who they really were.
Two Cases of Misplaced Lives
Shelley did not really want to die, but every time she looked out the balcony of her hotel room toward the turquoise Caribbean, all she could think about was swimming so far out she would never be able to get back. Why did she keep thinking this? And why now of all times? She and her husband, Matthew, had planned an anniversary trip for three years. When Matthew heard about a business conference in St Thomas, it seemed like a sensible way to save money. Shelley had plenty of time on her hands while Matthew attended sales meetings, and she liked to sit on the balcony and look out over the water as she sipped her coffee. But after a day or two, every time her mind relaxed, she would catch herself on that mental swim to nowhere. Each evening she shook off the morbid image, and got ready to join Matthew and his sales associates for dinner.
A year later in therapy, Shelley marveled at how unaware she had been of the reasons for her unhappiness on that trip. A depressive crisis six weeks after the trip had finally brought her face to face with how empty her life felt, and how terrified she was to do anything about it. She realized, looking back, that the anniversary trip was the perfect metaphor for her whole life. Pretty, intelligent, and an accomplished hostess, Shelley had become the ultimate accessory, the peripheral support for her husband’s center-stage life as super-salesman. Even the anniversary trip had served his career needs.
With her two children grown and married, Shelley’s family role had evaporated away to superfluity. Her husband would be inconvenienced by her absence, but who would really notice if she were to disappear? She knew her parents would be upset, for they loved her dearly as their only child. However, their love was like the love of her husband. They loved what she could do for them, but they had no idea who she really was, or what she wanted to do with her life. It had not occurred to them to look for signs of Shelley’s unique interests. Instead Shelley’s parents selectively rewarded the traits in her they liked best, especially her warmth and concern for others. Shelley was a perfect little caretaker from early childhood on. Her mother had been sure Shelley would become a nurse. However, Shelley’s impulsive early marriage and rapid-fire pregnancies had ended that hope. Her parents were bitter about Shelley’s life decisions for years, even refusing to help her financially when Matthew was out of work for several months. Shelley was left feeling like she was always letting someone down every time she sought happiness for herself.
The dynamics of Tim’s story were different than Shelley’s. He was a handsome, boyish looking physician in his early thirties, with two small children and a wife to support Becoming a family doctor had been his plan for so long, he no longer remembered when he decided to do it. His goal to be a physician seemed to have always been there, like the color of his eyes or the unruly cowlick on the back of his hair. Each stage of growing up, like going to first grade or getting his driver’s license, merely seemed to be another step on the way to medical school. The strange thing was that Tim never really enjoyed his science classes or medical courses. He was smart enough to get good grades, but it was torture for him to work such long hours and deal constantly with complaining patients. Yet every hard-won step in his career seemed worth it just to see the pride in his mother’s face when she introduced her son, the doctor. He knew how much it meant to his hard-working mother that her eldest son had made her dream come true. Tim was convinced that his secret wish to become a writer was the height of ingratitude and irresponsibility. Besides, how would he ever make his physician’s income as a writer? Tim began to feel depressed, and his irritability at work sapped his strength.
Both Tim and Shelley had misplaced the responsibility for their lives. Each had mistaken sacrifice for loyalty, and felt guilty for not feeling more satisfied. They may have shown some differences in the way they sacrificed their lives to meet the needs of others, but deep down they were facing the same question. The question that needed answering was not, “Do you have a successful job?” or “Do you have a stable marriage?” but rather, “Is this job about you?” and “Is this marriage for you?” Many people might have felt envious of Shelley, the successful man’s pretty wife, or Tim, the doctor who rose out of the working class to fulfill every mother’s dream. They certainly looked good from the outside. But that was the problem. They had been looking at themselves from the outside. In fact, Shelley and Tim had built whole lives around how they would look to family, friends, and society at large. Yet at a certain point for both, the hollowness of their efforts became too painful to ignore any longer.
The Peculiar Satisfaction of Sacrifice
Tim and Shelley had offered themselves on serving dishes to be made into whatever their loved ones needed most, and for quite awhile that was enough. Not just enough; their sacrifices were actually deeply satisfying—for a time. You see, to be able to get it right and become who loved ones think we should be is a psychological accomplishment of the highest order. Think of the patience, empathy, fortitude, and dedication it takes to rearrange one’s true self into someone else’s pattern. It is staggering to consider the personality resources people must use up to do that. Yet when it comes to using these resources for themselves, to further their dreams and deeply personal senses of purpose, many people suddenly feel confused, scared, and profoundly unsure of themselves. This moment is the “panic attack,” which will be discussed in greater detail later.
There is a good reason why we trade in our true interests for goals that other people have set for us. The payoff in this deal is that at least you have someone who believes in you. In Shelley’s case, her parents were proud of her abilities as a good caretaker, and Tim’s mother knew her son could do anything. To know that someone sees a potential in you, even if it is the wrong one, has a tremendous impact