Now that Santa Clause has come and gone, year-end reviews are done, and the in-laws have left, nobody’s going to be scrutinizing you for a while, so you can settle back and chill out for a while.
Do whatever you want to.
What’s that? You’re still thinking about what the best thing to do is? Even though no-one is watching?
Something told me that you wouldn’t be tripping old ladies as they cross the street, stealing Kit-Kats from kids, or viciously trolling someone because of their deplorable tastes in evening wear. In fact, I figured you’d be thinking about what the next good thing is–be it moral or high achieving.
People with obsessive-compulsive personality tendencies and Type-A personality are driven to be “good” in some professional, personal, or moral way. They feel a constant pressure to do good things and do them perfectly.
But trying so hard to be good isn’t always so good, and can even backfire. To sort this out, let’s explore three primary motivations.
Contents
1. Social and Virtue Signaling
Some of our good behavior is designed to send social signals.
Social signaling theory posits that our evolution has led us to obey social customs to show others that we are good, cooperative citizens, so that we don’t get thrown out into the savannah on our own to deal with lions, snakes and packs of snarling hyenas.
Some would argue that people with O-C tendencies actually need to learn how to send appropriate social signals. The way they signal sometimes send the wrong signal.
Compulsives, in my observation, work hard to earn respect, in fact more than they do to earn love. It’s their own particular brand of social signaling. This causes problems in relationships because it leads to priorities that don’t make sense to other people.
Virtue signaling, a specific type of social signaling, is intended to show our good morals to others. We might attempt this by buying a Prius (a low-mileage vehicle), recycling small bits of paper, or not eating the last nut ball cookie. And while the phrase “virtue signaling” often has a derogatory implication, others argue that it’s actually a good thing.
I don’t want to get lost in the goods with this idea of signaling, but mainly want to point out how common and even natural it is to prove our goodness to others–unless it is used to compensate for a sense of inadequacy. Which we’ll get to in a minute.
2. No Signaling
There are some acts which convey no signal at all. Have you ever done something admirable that you knew no-one else would ever get chance to admire? Maybe you knew it would make someone happy or you just felt like doing it. Maybe you’d buy that Prius even if other people thought it was a Dodge Ram.
I believe that much of the effort that goes into being good is organic, and is motivated by natural inclination.
3. Self Signaling
But sometimes those selfless acts are designed to signal to ourselves that we are good after all. You’ve always got you watching you, and that part of you simply wants to reassure yourself that you are a decent human being, by doing things that are morally good or high achieving.
But if there is also underlying insecurity, these tendencies get magnified to an unhealthy degree. And that’s when it backfires.
Under the surface of our efforts to be “good” we may feel a need to compensate and to prove that we’re not lazy, stupid, sloppy or selfish. We want to convince not only other people, but also ourselves, that we’re hard-working, smart, meticulous, caring, generous and respectable.
Even though the lengths we will go through to do this sometimes actually puts more distance between us and other people.
And this tendency to try to prove that we’re good or respectable also gets in the way of happiness, peace of mind and mental health.
Let’s look at some examples.
Batman’s Eternal Guilt Complex
Think about Batman, AKA Bruce Wayne.
One evening, when he’s eight years old, he asks his parents if they could go out to see a show. They oblige, and on the way home a petty criminal, Joe Chill, tries to rob his parents and ends up killing them in the process. Bruce is beside himself with guilt and anger. He vows to get revenge on the killer.
That’s how Batman was born.
But even after Joe Chill is killed, he’s still not content, much less happy. Alone and constantly scowling, he hasn’t dealt will the real problem.
Yes, Batman does seek revenge, but he also seeks relief from his guilt for his parents’ death as well. He feels that they were murdered because of his “selfish” request to see a show that evening. He then spends a lifetime trying to prove to himself that he isn’t selfish. Yes, he genuinely wants to rid Gotham of evil, but he also wants to rid himself of his own guilt as well, and to prove that he is a decent human being after all.
The closer to the unhealthy end of the compulsive spectrum someone is, the more likely it is that they feel the need to convince themselves, if not others, that they are honorable. This often leads them to overwork, overcontrol and over-signal in some way, even if it’s not obvious to them.
When your self-esteem is at stake, the consequences of not succeeding become so prominent that it leaves no room for other things in life, whether it’s because you’re too busy meticulously cleaning the kitchen, or trying to start the next Doctors Without Borders.
Let’s look at a more human example.
Ned Tries to Prove Himself By Being Outstandingly Good
Ned was not the coolest kid in his class, though he was the smartest. He didn’t experience outright bullying, but other kids did tease him about being a nerdy loser. And he was usually excluded from their socializing. The rejections continued until he reached college, when he finally found a few people that he was more in synch with.
But the scars from the earlier rejections remained, and Ned was determined to get respect. He vowed that he would prove himself to be a winner by succeeding. He eventually concluded, “I don’t care if they like me, I just don’t want anyone to think or say I’m a loser.”
This more obvious social issue of wanting to compensate for childhood exclusion and teasing sat on top of two other deeper, but less obvious, issues which also lead to a need to prove himself.
Overly-Supportive Parents
His parents were very supportive. Maybe too supportive. They believed Ned was destined to do great things. They saw that he worked hard, was conscientious, and paid attention to detail. More, they saw him as talented. Surely all those things made him special and would land him in a good place.
But Ned wasn’t as convinced. He knew his shortcomings. And peer opinion meant more than parental opinion. Besides, he knew that any success he had had in middle and high school was won not by talent but by hard work. Only if he kept his nose posted painfully close to that grindstone would he achieve what they thought he should achieve. While he certainly wanted to prove to others that he had worth, he also had to prove to himself that he could live up to his parents’ expectations.
Original Sin
His Catholic upbringing added an additional layer of insecurity. The version of the teaching that he heard in the Church was “You’re guilty until you prove your innocence.” Even though he had quit going to church, he carried the message that he was not a good person and that life is just a test to see if you can prove that you are good after all.
He drove himself relentlessly, well into adulthood, trying to prove to himself, his parents, his peers and the universe that he was a good person and he deserved respect. This “I’ll Show You” mantra only slipped into consciousness occasionally. But it was always in the back of his mind, driving him to work harder and be better.
When people or things got in his way he became furious because they blocked him from his goal of proving himself. The anger fed on itself because then he needed to prove that he was right and someone else was wrong. Like an attorney, he kept looking for all the reasons he was right, ignoring any suggestions that he might need to look at himself or a situation differently.
Ned did have talents—his natural desire to solve problems, and his industriousness among them. These tendencies can be very satisfying. But, as happens to many people, when these talents are hijacked to prove goodness, success is no longer simply desired, but desperately needed. The need to prove drowns out cries from body and soul for a more balanced life: more pleasure, more peace, and more connection.
Natural and Unnatural Self-Improvement
This push to prove may also be fueled by the natural tendency to take on challenges and grow personally. It’s instinctual to want to evolve and fulfill our potential. But this energy can also be co-opted to prove that we’re respectable.
For instance, the energy that would naturally go into becoming a better teacher might be co-opted to prove that you are okay after all, despite what everyone said about you. This could bring anxiety to your teaching that could get in the way of both you and your students progressing.
Proving Yourself to Be Good Is Human…To a Point
Let’s not pathologize this need to prove ourselves. Proving that we’re reliable, trustworthy, strong or otherwise desirable was a part of our evolution. It was built into us as we evolved in tribes of 75 people. A good reputation was necessary if you were to stay in the tribe and not be thrown out on your own.
And the reality is that you are being judged. You do have to prove that you add value at your workplace. And yes, that handsome guy or cute girl is checking you out on the first date. But not about what you think.
Rarely do people expect perfection. In fact, what many compulsive perfectionists miss is that when they try to prove that they’re respectable they often end up proving that they’re just difficult to get along with.
It’s very human to want to be respected for who we are. But if we feel that we are morally deficient or otherwise inadequate, and we betray our true selves to get that respect, we will experience anxiety and depression.
A More Judicious Approach to Proving Yourself
To begin to work your way out of this trap, ask yourself the following questions. Take your time as the answers may not be obvious at first:
• How have you wanted other people to see you, and how have you wanted to see yourself?
• Is this to compensate for what you think is a shortcoming?
• Check to see if you feel extra pressure or urgency in your body to prove yourself.
• What is the story you’ve told yourself that has lead you to feel that you need to make others see you differently? Might that story be inaccurate?
• Have your natural tendencies for self-improvement been hijacked to prove that you’re respectable? Has that energy gone into appearances rather than growth?
• Do you sacrifice too much (e.g. relationships, health, pleasure) in trying to get others (or yourself) to see you in a particular way?
• Where does your reputation sit in your list of priorities? What goals might be more fulfilling to you than proving yourself?
It would be unrealistic to try not to care what the people around you think of you. But trying to convince everyone that you’re good—good in whatever way you think you need to be seen–may lead you to pursue projects and perfection that are actually self-destructive.
Strive for your ideals. But don’t let them get hijacked by your insecurity.
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