Change the Recording

Where does negative self-talk come from? We’ve all gotten the same memo. You know the one I mean, the one that says: “You can’t do it; you’re not good enough.” Where could a message this debilitating possibly come from?

A man whom I respected spoke over the years of how his mom never cuddled him or said the words, “I love you.” He explained that in previous generations when times were tough (and times were pretty much always tough) there was a cultural meme: “Bad fortune and ruin will descend on the family who expresses affection or positive regard for its offspring.” A vengeful and wrathful deity will smite those who articulate love for a child. Although plagues of locusts resulting from the utterance of affectionate words are hard to verify, this man became a successful academic. Admittedly, his life was an unending series of sadness–dissatisfaction, divorce, depression and ultimately suicide. But in fairness he was not, to my knowledge, overrun with locusts.

“You’re all worthless and weak; now drop and give me twenty” didn’t inspire the recruits and it doesn’t resonate with your children either. “You’re no good” gets internalized and repeated throughout the life cycle. “You’re not loved” is the song that gets stuck in your head, the gift that keeps on giving, the tape without an off switch.

Could these endlessly repeated messages come from parents who communicate to their children that they are not loved for who they are? Who could possibly measure up to such a standard? “You are loved for what you do not for who you are” is a forever receding and ultimately unreachable finish line. The landmines along this psychic road to nowhere are ubiquitous. Consider Jon Von Neumann, arguably the greatest mathematician of the 20th century. Von Neumann was a human computer. Seriously. He could multiply four digit numbers together in his head. He worked on the Manhattan Project, was at the Institute of Advanced Studies, invented game theory. Asked about his accomplishments late in life he is believed to have said, “I could have done more.”

He could have done more? He helped invent nuclear weapons. Where does that leave your kids? We’re talking about major science fair project here.

I know what you’re thinking: “If I accept my children for who they are, they’ll never do anything; they’ll just sit around smelling the lotus blossoms. Motivation to achieve comes from being psychically uncomfortable. Human nature tends toward the slothful. If I don’t yell at my kids, they won’t do their homework.” I’m going to call this view of children, the “Gee, for a fat girl, you don’t sweat much” school of parenting. And there’s something else this “I only love my kids when they do what I want” paradigm reminds me of. The world’s oldest profession involves similar transactions. All you have done is replace cash payments with affection.

I would not presume to pretend to have any insight into what the tape playing in Bruce Springsteen’s mind says, but it is my understanding that the only time he can tune out the clutter is when he is performing. Apparently being carried aloft by adoring fans, body surfing along the outstretched arms of devoted aficionados any one of whom would glad take a bullet for him, is the only way he knows to shut down the negative self-talk.

Make no mistake, I am in favor of rock in general and Bruce in particular, but what about the rest of us, those for whom a stadium replete with 70,000 screaming aficionados is unlikely (or as my offspring remind me: “Dad, when you play guitar, is that child abuse?”)

How do we diminish mind chatter? How do we turn off or at least turn down the broken record?

I don’t know why people self-medicate. Why would an otherwise healthy individual drink enough alcohol so that he has diarrhea the next day after having barfed repeatedly throughout the night? I imagine there are as many reasons to drink to excess as there are brands of potato based spirits. Could a diminished sense of self be one of them?

Woman at Fancy Dinner Party: Sir, if you were my husband, I would give you poison.

Winston Churchill: Madam, if you were my wife, I would drink it.

If you are listening to “you’re not good enough” often enough, it’s enough to drive you to drink.

Self-esteem doesn’t result from being told how wonderful your kids perform. Self-esteem comes from being valued just for being who you are. Fast forward to adulthood: “I want to marry you because you have money.” “I will love you forever because you have blonde hair.” These relationships are doomed when economics and hair color change. Bruce Springsteen and Gary U.S. Bonds got it right:

“When your hair turns to silver,
I’ll still call you, Delta Flower,
Pretty Blon, I’ll still love you,
And I will wait for you.”

I love you for who you are, not for what you look like or what your 1040 says is a blueprint for loving relationships of all kinds. Like lovers, parents must ultimately and at the deepest level communicate to their children unconditional positive regard. “You’re okay just as you are” is a better record to imprint rather than the one about how you’re no good. The loving message doesn’t need to be drowned out with either fermented potatoes or screaming fans.