Everyday Narcissism. Nancy Van Dyken
Are Responsible for—and Have the Power to Control—the Way We Feel and Behave
When we were children, adults blamed us for their unhappiness and bad behavior. We then experienced their disapproval, anger, and rejection for our ostensible failure to make them happy.
Feeling hurt by the rejection and blame, we in turn learned to blamed those adults for making us feel so miserable. Eventually a vicious circle of blame was created. Myth 2 is the consequence of others not following Myth 1.
Blaming is learned through modeling. When we are children and adults routinely blame us for their dissatisfaction, we learn that this is what normal human beings do. So we start blaming others for our unhappiness as well. As adults, we naturally continue this pattern.
Since we are supposed to make other people happy, they, in turn, are supposed to make us happy. Thus we live according to Myth 2. We hold others accountable for what we do and how we feel. When we are unhappy or angry or disappointed or sad, we blame other people for making us feel that way. They did the wrong thing, or said the wrong words, or used a nasty tone, or refused to look at us while they talked, or didn’t call us back quickly enough. Our unhappiness is their fault.
We experience this in restaurants, when the server isn’t fast or attentive enough; on the highway, when the person in front of us doesn’t yield or isn’t going fast enough; at work, when our boss doesn’t tell us what a great job we are doing; and at home, when our kids don’t even look up from their laptops when we walk in after a long, hard day of work.
We do the very same thing when we feel happy or serene: we attribute that feeling to what someone else did. This is particularly common when we’re dating. We give the other person credit for our excitement or happiness or delight—when, in fact, those feelings arose from our willingness to open up to and connect with someone else. We give credit to the mirror for the reflection we see in it.
Because of our EN, when others do what we want, we don’t just feel happy or pleased; we feel important, valued, respected, cared for, counted, and appreciated. When they don’t do what we want, we feel just the opposite.
. . . controlling (or attempting to control) others usually leads to misery, not happiness.
As a result, because of our EN, we come to believe that getting other people to do what we want will create our happiness. Yet decades of research into human happiness tell us that this is utterly false; controlling (or attempting to control) others usually leads to misery, not happiness.
Nevertheless, this is the very conviction that almost all of us live by. In our attempts to control others, we criticize them, analyze them, manipulate them, guilt or shame them, blame them, call them names, ignore them, swear at them, hit them—or flatter them, beg them, or bribe them with sweetness or compliance or sex or money or attention.
In relationships where each person holds the other responsible for their own happiness, a game of hot potato evolves. People take turns blaming each other for how they feel, sharing in detail what the other person did wrong. No one wants to hold the hot potato—that is, accept blame for the other person’s discomfort—for very long. No one wants to get stuck being the villain. So the potato gets passed back and forth endlessly.
The most dangerous form of Myth 2 appears in violent relationships. Abusers tell their partners repeatedly that the abuse is the partner’s fault. If only their partner would act right, speak right, cook supper right, not use the wrong tone of voice, cut the onions right, never be late, never forget the umbrella, etc., then the abuser would treat the partner well. They tell their partner the abuse is the result of the partner’s bad behavior. The partner may believe this, too, because it is an expression of Myth 1.
Most of us even apply Myth 2 to inanimate objects. We expect our computers and phones and cars and zippers and plumbing to always work perfectly, and, because of our EN, we get mad at them when they don’t. We curse our smartphones or yell at our computers, even though we know perfectly well that they’re only devices. Yet because Myth 2 has become so deeply ingrained in us, we imagine that these objects are somehow responsible for—and have the power to control—the way we feel and behave. We imagine that it’s their job to make us happy, rather than just perform a function.
Myth 3: The Needs and Wants of Other People Are More Important than Our Own
Myth 3 is a natural consequence of Myth 1. If we must please others—and if we must focus on what they want and need and ignore our own wants and needs, or risk losing their love and support—what other conclusion can we possibly come to?
As we will see, the way to begin healing from Myth 3 is to look inward at what genuinely matters to us—what we want, need, and care about—and then act on it.
CHAUNCEY, HIS FATHER, AND HIS MUSIC TEACHER
When he is in the sixth grade, Chauncey tells his father he wants to learn to play the trombone. Instead, his school’s music teacher insists he first learn to play the French horn, a much more difficult instrument.
When Chauncey tells his father about this, his dad calls the teacher and says, “Why can’t my son learn whatever instrument he wants to?” The music teacher says, “The school band doesn’t have a single French horn player, and it already has two trombone players. If your son would learn the French horn, it would help out the whole school.”
Chauncey’s mother and father discuss the situation and decide that the music teacher’s needs and wants—and those of the school band—are more important than Chauncey’s.
They don’t realize they’re doing this, of course. Because of their EN, they want to look like cooperative people and please the band director. They don’t understand how much they are discounting their son and teaching him Myth 3.
They tell their son of their decision and say, “Just try the French horn for a couple of years. Maybe you’ll like it. If you still want to play the trombone by the time you’re in eighth grade, we’ll stand behind you.”
Chauncey feels betrayed, then outraged, then despondent. The incident teaches him two things. First, to adults, his musical desires aren’t important—only the adults’ desires are. Second, adults often join together to outmaneuver or overpower kids.
Although Chauncey dutifully takes up the French horn, he is deeply wounded by the incident.
Chauncey turns out to be good at the French horn, and his music teacher is pleased. Yet he still wants to learn the trombone.
When he begins eighth grade, he tells his teacher he’s not going to play French horn anymore, and he plans to take up the trombone. This leads to a discussion among Chauncey, his parents, and the music teacher. The teacher tells Chauncey and his parents what a talented French horn player he is, and he will leave a big hole in the school band if he switches instruments.
Chauncey is adamant, however, and his parents, to their credit, uphold their promise and support him.
Chauncey learns the new instrument quickly, and by the end of eighth grade, he has become the best trombonist in the band. However, the music teacher is angry that his parents stuck to their commitment to Chauncey and set aside the needs of the band. The music teacher holds a grudge and becomes passive-aggressive with Chauncey. He rarely praises Chauncey, criticizes him often, and offers him no help or instruction.
Chauncey knows he is a talented musician. Yet he has no interest in allowing himself to be so mistreated. At the end of the eighth grade, he quits the band, puts down the trombone, and never takes up another instrument.
AMY AND HER MOTHER
Seven-year-old Amy goes to her mother for help in dealing with her hurting heart. Her friend Megan didn’t invite her to her