When you have something to prove, you aren’t free
Edith Eger, The Choice (2017)
It is not necessary to satisfy other peoples expectations
Kishimi, Koga , The Courage to be disliked (2013)
This is hard stuff for me, so I thought I would write about it.
Most of my family, that is, both my lovely grandmothers, and more recently my Aunties, have commented on me being ‘such a good little boy’ when I was a child.
I can remember them doing this as a child, in defence of me, against my toxic mother.
My teachers said the same. In fact I remember astounding one teacher when I was 6 for wanting the spelling of a word that she thought I shouldn’t know. The word was blancmange. School reports aged 8 said that I was concientious. (not conceited) , and I didnt have google then to find out what this meant, so when I asked my parents what this word meant, there strangely wasn’t a response. I was told off for asking for a present for having a good school report.
What I didnt realise aged 8, was that this was about to be a pattern. Other people would see my gifts and general goodness, my mother would see either the opposite, de legitimise who I was or what they said.. or as ive said before..take it for herself.
But, I did learn this though… That being good (as long as I didnt ask for rewards for it) kept me out of trouble in those other places, even if I was seemingly always in trouble/danger in the home.
Nothing was good enough at home, it was impossible to win, and it was all game. But I did realise that by staying out trouble and invisible meant I was safer.
There was something else weird too. Because I wasn’t being seen. This is what I wanted, it was like this…
If only they could see what I did or who I was then they might be proud of me or love me.
But there was a complication to this.
I didnt want them anywhere near me – not publicly anyway, and so I hid or avoided achievements. I feigned disappointment when they said they couldn’t come to my duke of Edinburgh bronze award night, they were away I think and it was one of favourite events where I collected an award. Ever. So, its complicated, the desire to be seen to be good, mixed with the impending trauma of having them see it. Moments of achievement were best avoided. When I got school prizes aged 13, I didnt expect it, and I definitely didnt the next year.
But I was a good boy.
When I realised I had to be, and do this on my own – I set out at doing so.
And being a good boy, also meant and became, being a good christian boy too.
The two became synonymous, and God became intrinsically linked to the same parent figure, always watching, to be feared, temperamental, never seeing (except sin and failings). God gave me tasks to do, God was keeping a list of sins, God was storing up every thought for the last days – so I could rewatch it all. Also.. nothing I did that was actually good, this was just ‘God’ in me doing these things, because deep down im full of darkness, sin and shame, of course I am.
So I was pointlessly trying to be good. And it was exhausting.
Keeping up good appearances. At church, at school… adapting to the institutions.. believing this was what life was all about. Believing that if I was good I would be liked. Actually I noticed the opposite. The fun people had friends. The other ‘good’ kids congregated together, all the oldest child, maybe all sitting in the Christian union too.
Good christians, judging the fun others had, and being jealous that they all had friends.
A life of performance, pretence, self protection and compliance.
Imagine my surprise when I decided to a ‘christian’ gap year doing youth ministry and this caused probably 15 years of anger and disappointment in her.. because I didnt go to university at 18 (her plan and expectation) . Being good and even following a faith calling – didnt make a difference.
Because it wasn’t seen though, I then had to prove them wrong, and spent a good amount of my life doing so.
Being good didnt matter, and there was no possibility to me meeting their expectations. But I didnt know this at the time. Not until I read the pink book that saved my life, until I realised that I didn’t matter what I did.
Somewhere deep in my conscious is this notion of ‘being good’, that being good somehow would mean being accepted and liked – especially in the institutions – and that maybe this being liked and accepted in these places were compensation for what I didnt have at home.
Somewhere there’s still a belief that if im good, i’ll be liked and accepted.
But this isn’t true.
And if it is, it isn’t freedom. Its trying to meet other peoples expectations.
And thats something neither I or you can control.
And maybe there’s a difference, between trying to be good – to fit in – and letting that deep inner well of goodness shine through and be revealed. Goodness needn’t mean compliance. Goodness is for all humanity.
At the risk of being disliked.
I think I could also talk about how this applies to my writing, but thats for a different time.
Its not that I see now and think that ‘being good’ ruined my life – no not at all, I needed to be good to survive, to be and get to where I am today. Being good in school and doing well was an achievement of my own doing, as was graduating to Masters level a few years ago.
I just realised that it isn’t the most important thing.
Yet I can tell that its a continual wrestle for me, as it sits so close and deep within my own psyche – and maybe yours.
More to come on this… probably..
Thank you for reading.
James Ballantyne 