The Price of Nice

What's so bad about being nice?  If we're determined to be "nice" at all costs, then something's wrong--with us.   In a previous post I wrote about the "Inauthentic Niceness Syndrome."  In this post, I'll discuss our sincerity in trying to be nice--but to the detriment of our own emotional well-being.  I was raised on the ethos of niceness.  "Be nice," was a mantra in my family, in our LDS culture, and in our societal expectations of girls and women.  I learned my lessons well.  I was nice---no matter what. When other women were rude to me, I smiled rather than confront them directly. (But like most--if not all--women, I figured out other indirect ways to "voice" my displeasure.)   My niceness came at a very high cost; I wasn't true to my own self.  Now, I'm recovering from people-pleasing compulsions.  It hasn't been easy.  I'm forever reminding myself that it's okay not to be nice all the time!   Divine intervention has also helped me in this quest:  As a college instructor, my job is to evaluate students, not please them.  I'm in an environment where I will never be able to please every student.  Not all of them will like me.  And that's okay. Not everyone has to like me.  Dr. Harriet Braiker defines the dangers and pitfalls of the "Niceness Syndrome:"

People-pleasers whose distorted thinking is the predominant cause of their syndrome  are ensnared in burdensome and self-defeating mindsets that perpetuate their disease to please problems. [You are] driven by a fixed thought that you need and must strive for everyone to like you.  You measure your self-esteem and define your identity by how much you do for others whose needs, you insist, MUST come before your own.  You believe that being nice will protect you from rejection and other hurtful treatment from others.  And while you impose demanding rules, harsh criticism, and perfectionistic expectations on yourself, you simultaneously yearn for universal acceptance.  In short, you have thought your way into the problem and, to a significant extent, you will need to think your way to recovery (The Disease to Please, 2001, p. 6).

I had to learn that no matter how much I tried to be nice and to please others, I would not automatically be rewarded with niceness in return.  And I had to stop feeling betrayed when others didn't acknowledge my super-human efforts in the name of niceness.  (As I re-read my last two sentences, I make this self-recognition sound effortless.  It was so NOT easy...and took me years to recognize and understand my mindset.)  On the extremely rare occasion when I directly vocally voiced my frustration at a woman, I felt empowered and relieved.  But there's still the uncomfortable aftermath to deal with if the association with the other person continues.

Gradually, I also came to realize that my fear of angry people was tied into my people-pleasing mindset.  Dr. Braiker further elaborates:

People-pleasers syndrome is primarily caused by the avoidance of frightening and uncomfortable feelings.  You will recognize the high anxiety that merely the anticipation or possibility of an angry confrontation with others evokes.  Your disease to please syndrome operates primarily as an avoidance tactic intended to protect you from your fears of anger, conflict, and confrontation.  As you already may know, the tactic is faulty.  Your fears not only fail to diminish, they even intensify, as the avoidance patterns persist.

Because you avoid difficult emotions, you never allow yourself to learn how to effectively manage conflict or how to deal appropriately with angry [people].  As a consequence, you relinquish control too easily to those who would dominate you through intimidation and manipulation (p. 6).

That last line personifies the "old me" perfectly.  The desire to please can paralyze us to the point that we allow others to verbally abuse and devalue us.  By the same token, our refusal to talk openly to those who (intentionally or unintentionally) hurt and abuse us serves to undermine and even end our relationships.

Painting by John Waterhouse

The Hidden Costs of People-Pleasing
Dr. Braiker uncovers the ironies of this syndrome:

People pleasing is an odd problem.  At first glance, it may not even seem like a problem at all.  In fact, the phrase "people-pleaser" might feel more like a compliment or a flattering self-description that you proudly wear as a badge of honor.  After all, what's wrong with trying to make others happy?  Shouldn't we all strive to please the people we love and even those we just like a lot?  Surely the world would be a happier place if there were more people-pleasers....wouldn't it?  [However] your emotional tuning dials are jammed on the frequency of what you believe other people want or expect of you...you turn a deaf ear to your own inner voice....trying to protect you from overextending yourself and from operating against your own self-interests.

Your self-esteem is all tied up with how successful you are at pleasing others.  Fulfilling the needs of others becomes the magic formula for gaining love and self-worth and  protection from abandonment and rejection.  But in reality, it's a formula that simply doesn't work.  People-pleasers become deeply attached to seeing themselves--and to being certain that others see them---as NICE people.  Their very identity derives from this image of niceness.  And, while they may believe that being nice protects them from unpleasant situations with friends and family, in actuality,the price they pay is still far too high.  The more you identify with being nice, instead of being real, the more you will find yourself plagued by nagging doubts, insecurities, and lingering fears (p. 8-9). 

Dr. Braiker also points out that in our niceness, other people often manipulate and exploit our willingness to please them.  I learned that keeping up my facade of "niceness at all costs" prevented me from showing my true feelings, my anger, frustration, and indignation when I felt mistreated by friends, co-workers, family, and even strangers.  Surely, I got some sort of pay-off when I let others (intentionally or unintentionally) mistreat me; I got to be "the nice one."  (Big deal.  I'd rather have my self-respect!)

For the rest of my life, my knee-jerk response will probably always be to adapt and to please others who intimidate me.  But I've learned how to consistently stand up for myself.  I've totally freed myself from this burden because I've retrained my thoughts, my feelings, and ultimately my behavior.  All it takes is one thought at a time to generate progress.  As we celebrate our little victories over our thoughts and then our feelings, we become more powerful.  We become the guardians of our own destiny.

There's hope for the cure!

Julie

The title of this post comes from a chapter title of Harriet Braiker's book, The Disease to Please.

Are You Afraid of Your Own Greatness?

Years ago, I read an article about poverty-stricken people who live in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I was surprised to learn that many teenagers and young adults who were born into poverty stay there because of family pressure. Why? Wouldn't parents want their children to have a better life? Wouldn't young adults desire that for themselves? The answer is obviously yes, but only to a point. As a person attempts to work his or her way out of poverty, family members often react negatively. Parents, siblings, or relatives accuse the person of becoming "uppity," or arrogant, or no longer "one of us." (Come to think of it, I've seen this attitude in some of my husband's relatives when he decided to leave his roots in rural Idaho and settle in suburban California.) Additionally, individuals born into poverty have a difficult time seeing themselves (let alone actually living) in a different perspective. The sad result: many poverty stricken people stay put--no matter how miserable their lifestyle.

Most of these interactions are subconscious.  How many of us (including our family and friends) realize or admit to sabotaging our own (and each other's) success?  We don't. We justify and make excuses for our present circumstance.  And we stay stuck.  This concept transcends economics and also applies to our emotional and spiritual progression. In the words of preacher T.D. Jakes, "When tapping into our own greatness, we have to learn to see ourselves differently.  We're afraid of our greatness."

Painting by John Waterhouse

Long ago, I was discussing spiritual growth with another woman.  She expressed her fear of spiritual growth by saying, "I'm afraid it would change me too much."  Yes, progression and success are scary.  So is accumulating power, and authority.  Why?  Because with those elements come their difficult counterparts:  accountability, responsibility, stewardship, influence, rejection, and criticism.  Our fear of success can be especially driven by the inevitable rejection and criticism from others.  T.D. Jakes further elaborates:

Be aware that we live in "cubicles" we've been assigned to. We were pushed into functioning that is not our highest and best because somebody needed us to be what we were not created to be.  It is not our calling. Don't spend your life trying to be who you are not. We can get by on fragments so we settle. We're closing ourselves down to opportunity for growth.

Our "assigned cubicles" always entail expectations from family members, society, religion, and, eventually, friends and adversaries.  Dr. Jakes illustrated this "cubicle concept" during Oprah's Master Class. Jakes strolled over to a large sound speaker and sat on top of it. While sitting there, he said, "This speaker isn't designed to be a chair.  It can function as one, but it's not what it was created to be.  Somebody (meaning Dr. Jakes) needs it to be a chair."  We, too, are pushed into functioning at less capacity often because someone needs us to be who we are not meant to be.  Thus to overcome opposition, Dr. Jakes suggests that we live "on purpose."  We can't turn away from our own greatness. He says,

To live on purpose you have to make an emotional investment and risk rejection.  But if you make the investment upfront, you'll eventually get the dividends.  You can't reap a dividend when you haven't invested.  Sow first and reap later.  Greatness is contagious.  You'll catch it if you're around it enough.

What kinds of investments are we making toward developing our own greatness?  Like the three men in Christ's parable of the talents, we too, are either investing in and reaping from our greatness (talents), minimally investing and thus simply functioning, or ignoring, sabotaging, or burying our greatness.

Isn't it wonderful that we are already born with a degree of greatness?  Even better...we can increase it!

Here's to gratefully greatness!

Julie

Step 3 of the 12 Steps: Trust In God

I have a dear friend who has many qualities I admire.  Whenever I complimented her, she shrugged it off.  When I pointed this out to her, she said, "I guess I don't believe you when you tell me good things about myself."  I'm hoping she's learning to believe me.  Years ago, I had a similar mindset toward God.  When I felt the Spirit whisper of Heavenly Father's love for me, well, I sort of believed it.  When I prayed, I felt God telling me that I was a good and acceptable person--but I still had a hard time believing.  I honestly thought God  loved me because He had to---kind of like a parent who feels obligated to love his or her child.  However, as I learned to trust God, I learned to believe all that He taught me--including all the good stuff about me. Why are so many of us able and willing to believe the bad stuff about ourselves but not the good?   Surely, our parents, culture, and notions of perfection shape our sense of self.  But we can learn to re-process and reshape our self-definition to a truthful, not distorted one.

The LDS Twelve-Step program helps facilitate this process.  Step Three states, "Decide to turn your will and your life over to the care of God the Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ" (p. 13).  The key here:  decide.  I made the conscious decision to believe God as He revealed to me the true aspects about myself--the good and the bad.  I learned (and continually choose) to trust and believe what He says about me.  And I still struggle as our culture and others make continual attempts to define and tell me who I'm "supposed" to be.  Through the Spirit, I know which definitions to accept and which to disregard.

"Miranda The Tempest" by John Waterhouse

Obviously, "trusting in God" involves many other themes besides self-definition--too many themes to cover in this post. Nevertheless, the Step Three chapter asks some compelling generic questions applicable to any personality, mindset, or behavior pattern.  Since transformation is a continual process, the Twelve-Steps manual offers the following questions to help us start and continue in the process:

• What prevents you from allowing God to direct your life?
• How can you gain the courage to keep trying until you are free of your burdens?
• How strong is your willingness to yield your heart to God instead of yielding to temptation and/or addiction in the moment you are tempted?
• What keeps you from "crying mightily" (Mosiah 29:20) to God for deliverance according to His will?
• What has kept you from seeking this kind of deliverance in the past? (pp. 15-18).

Applying these questions to our lives can be a terrifying experience.  And that's ok.  The unknown is scary---even when the unknown means our ultimate deliverance.  Even though our negative mindsets and behaviors make us miserable, at least we know what to expect:  misery.  However, if we can learn to feel "comfortable" in our misery, we can also learn how to feel comfortable in our success.  The Twelve-Steps manual observes:

At first our efforts were anxious and halting.  We kept giving the Lord our trust and then taking it back.  We worried that He would be displeased at our inconsistency and withdraw His support and love from us.  But He didn't.  Gradually we allowed the Lord to demonstrate His healing power and the safety of following His way (p. 14).

Like any skill, this mindset takes practice.  But if we continue to metaphorically water our flowers rather than our weeds, eventually the weeds will die--and the flowers will thrive. We aren't helpless and we aren't hopeless. We need to recognize this lie for what it is:  our resistance to change.

Ready to move over and let God drive?

Julie

Writing Our Own "Gold Plates"

I don't like to write.  Ironically, I teach an upper division writing course at San Jose State, and I write this blog.  Still, I don't enjoy writing.  Here's why I do it:  I write to influence.  Well crafted writing inspires and can change lives. We need look no further than the Scriptures as examples of inspirational life changing writ.  Although the Scriptures were written by holy prophets, we can also see the "normalcy" and frailties of these authors as human beings. (I like their frailties--I'm inspired by them!) Even some of the most mundane situations (like Lehi's family camping and wandering in the desert for 8 years) become profound as these recorded experiences ultimately point to our Savior's birth, ministry, and resurrection.

Over the years, Church leaders have encouraged us to keep personal journals.  Like so many others, I wrote sporadically and eventually made the conscious decision not to write at all.  At the time, I felt too vulnerable and self-conscious in anchoring my insecurities to paper. (As you can see, I've changed!)  Moreover, in the last 15 years I've often felt prompted to write down my spiritual experiences.  Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't.

Have you ever had a spiritual experience---one that you were sure you'd never forget?  I haven't forgotten many of my spiritual experiences, but time has a way of erasing the fresh nuances;  like when we wake up from a dream thinking we'll never forget it.  But within a very short period, the details of our dream fade until  the dream completely vaporizes.  So, lesson learned:  I'm more careful about writing things down.

"A Moment to Reminisce" by Daniel Gerhartz

As my family has expanded to include two son-in-laws and two daughter-in-laws, we decided to keep a record of our family spiritual experiences.   These experiences could be ones we've had together as a family (such as attending the temple together) or experiences each individual family has had. So, last Christmas, my husband and I bought leather expandable binders for each of our kids and their spouses to help organize their spiritual records.  We jokingly dubbed them "The Leather Plates" (in honor of  "The Gold Plates").  We've also decided to call each of our children's family records the "Small Plates," and the "Large Plates" represent our entire family's compilation. We often talk about why we feel so compelled to compile these "plates" or records--and frankly, we're not exactly sure why.  We just know we must do it.  Whenever we get together for family visits, or have conference calls, we share our latest spiritual experiences   We have found that in doing so, we all bring to the collective table our individual abilities and spiritual gifts.  As a result, we simultaneously serve as teachers and students to each other in this process.  We all grow together.

In my writing class, I ask my students the following questions:  What inspires you?  What do you feel passionately about?  In what way do you want to influence others?  How do you want to leave your mark on the world?  How do you want the people around you to feel?  Motivated?  Inspired? Angry?  Sad? Happy?  Writing is a powerful tool and a means to leave our mark.  I tell my students that we all have a story to tell.  And with our stories, we can make a difference.  And that is power. We have the ability to harness that power; we can metaphorically tame, saddle, and ride that horse to connect and to influence others.

I also tell my students that good writing looks easy.  Like good acting---we are not aware of the actor's performance; we're just aware and drawn into the story he or she is performing.  Furthermore, if the screenplay is well written, the actor's performance is all the more powerful.  So it is with writing.  I often fail to have the discipline required for the hard work of writing--but I feel the prompting--well, pounding--of the Spirit to stay in the saddle and write.  Including churning out blog posts on a consistent basis! :)  On the other hand, the Book of Mormon prophets often commented on the "weakness of our writing." No matter.  Their writing still inspires and motivates.  So whether or not we feel our writing is good or bad, when we write with the Spirit, our writing is powerful and thus influential!

Got influence?

Julie

Step 2 of the 12 Steps: Hope. (Stop Anguishing! Start Hoping!)

"At some point we must stop anguishing over what is wrong with us and rejoice in what is right within us."  Wise words from LDS therapist, Wendy Ulrich in her book Forgiving Ourselves. We Mormons often wear guilt as a badge of honor and humility.  But excessive guilt is not honorable; nor true humility. Rather, it's a form of anguish that leaves us languishing in a spiritual and emotional quagmire.  Believe me, I know.  Years ago, distorted guilt and anguish spiraled me into a bout of depression.  Now, I'm careful and don't let anyone unnecessarily "guilt me."

"Huldah:  Treasure the Word" by Elsbeth Young

The Second Step in the LDS Social Services "Twelve Steps" program echoes this idea:  "Come to believe that the power of God can restore you to complete spiritual health" (LDS Family Services Addiction Recovery Program, p. 7). In previous posts I've discussed the importance of the Twelve Step program in aiding our emotional and spiritual health.  In this post I'll further discuss the notion of hope as a spiritual springboard to help and healing.

Our runaway guilt isolates us from God (I'm so bad, He must be mad at me) and sometimes from our family and friends--especially if addiction is involved.  However, when we grasp a hope in God and hang on to it, we begin to see ourselves as the Lord sees us---through a more healthy spiritual lens.  Thus, our hope grows and the cobwebs of distorted guilt and anguish begin to clear away.  But in grasping hope, we've got to be bold.  Hebrews 4:16 tells us, "Let us...come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."

Bold, straight-talking prayer seeded my hope (for myself and in God) and caused it (and me) to bloom.  I first felt the Lord's willingness to engage in "straight-talk" with me when I was 27-years-old.  My husband and I had served continually and simultaneously in church leadership positions (while having 3 babies and juggling school), and I was burned out.  I felt extremely guilty over my growing resentment toward my husband and the Church.  Feeling hopeless and angry, I got on my knees and told the Lord, "I'm sorry, but I hate the Church!"  The expected thunderbolt never came to strike me down.  Rather, I felt the Spirit's compassionate response.  Into my mind came the words, "Julie, stop putting the Church first in your marriage and your resentment will go away.  You and Rick think your marriage comes first, but it doesn't. You compete with the Church for your husband's time and resources, and you lose out to the Church every time.  No wonder you're resentful."  From then on, I knew my Savior was a safe and soft place to fall.  I could tell Him anything!  And in telling Him anything, He would help me overcome everything.  And in this knowledge, I began to stop anguishing in my guilt and come to a place of new hope and self acceptance.

Psychologist Lee Jampolsky elaborates on this principle:

The basic tenet of the addictive thought system is judgment:  the belief that constantly analyzing, comparing criticizing, and condemning are traits that bring security and peace.  In contrast, the loved-based thought system sees that peace of mind is obtained through the art of practicing acceptance.  I have come to see that a certain phenomenon must occur before deep change--that is change that occurs on both the behavioral level and the feeling level--can occur.  I call this phenomenon the paradox of change.

In order to truly change, we must first accept ourselves just as we are, without reservation.  We must be able to see beyond our dysfunction and see our essential wholeness.  If we do not approach ourselves with an attitude of acceptance and love, we beat ourselves up.  As long as we beat ourselves up, positive deep change is impossible.  The only change that occurs by condemning yourself is that you end up feeling worse about yourself (Healing the Addictive Mind, 1991, p. 63).

I have happily discovered that God is no wimp and can listen to and take straight, bold talk.  In fact, I think He respects it.  And anyone who has read even one page of scripture, knows that God dishes out straight, bold talk.  Let's awaken to His grace by increasing our hope in Him and some self-acceptance of ourselves.

Hopefully,
Julie