I can remember eating Pez from my Spiderman dispenser and pretending they gave me super strength the way spinach made Popeye strong. Sometimes I’d roll up my sleeves and flex the way a four-year-old flexes as if to say “look at me, I have muscles.” I’m pretty sure the Pez were also anti poison pills, flying pills, and pills that made me super fast. I did the same thing with smarties, Saltine crackers, bottle caps, skittles, and even big league chew.
From a very early age we learn to look outside of ourselves for the strength and abilities that we don’t naturally possess. Even our superheroes, who may have seemingly innate abilities, often have them hidden under an alter ego (Hulk, Superman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman, etc.). By day they’re normal, but they have the ability to tap in to something deeper – a reserve the source of which comes from somewhere otherworldly.
This concept of more than human strength is as old as written history and yet has often been viewed as both a blessing and a curse. Become too proud, and the gods will find ways to strike you down. In the Greek tradition, hubris (excessive pride), is always the hero’s downfall. No sooner does man, or woman, feel that they control their destiny, the cosmos conspires and surprises, often ironically, with other plans. Is it fate? Do we have free will? And what of self-reliance – that venerated quality here in American culture?
I’ve been texting and talking with a woman I used to date. She and her boyfriend of two years have hit a rough patch. She’s ready to settle down, and while he once seemed ready, he now seems hesitant. She’d like some reassurance that they’re on the same page, and either he’s not giving it or she’s not seeing what he is giving. Worse yet, she doesn’t want to have to ask for it (nor should she) – and when she does ask for more, he seems to think she’s needy and the timing is off. We all have times when we need those reassurances – we all struggle with our own insecurities and often have little control over when they pop up.
Personally, I’m skeptical of the overly self-sufficient. On this I like to quote Stephen Dunn “we know how dangerous people are who don’t need anything. The purity of leverage.” I also like to quote Frost, “love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” Or maybe I should just stick with Cheap Trick “I want you to want me.” Neediness is a part of the dance. Unfortunately, far too often the response from the other person is a feeling of suffocation and the desire to withdraw. Distance is also a part of the dance. So begins the voracious demand/withdraw cycle when one person wants closeness and the other wants space.
For me, talking and thinking about these patterns highlights what seem to be divergent paths in psychology and therapy – self-reliance vs. effective dependence. There are those who believe that one can’t have a fulfilling relationship until they are whole themselves – that anything they would rely on a partner to provide, they should be able to provide on their own. I left home and came to Memphis under that notion – “be the person you want to find.” I set out in an attempt to cultivate within some of the things I admired in others. So naturally, I don’t entirely disagree with that sentiment. But, I think it’s nearly impossible to achieve, is a consistently moving target, and denies us of our own human nature and desire to want and need another and to be wanted and needed by another. Complete self-reliance negates the we are stronger than our parts approach to life. It robs us of the beauty of giving and receiving. Practically speaking, it also requires more resources. A simple look at finances shows that two people can fare better in this world than one and that a division of labor can create more time for other things.
A more zen approach would be a blend of self-reliance and the acceptance that we often need to find strength elsewhere. It posits that everything we need can be found within the self, but also recognizes the importance of spiritual guidance and the notion that we are all connected. One of the things I would meditate on when I would paint an enso circle is that what is contained within the circle (assuming nothing is painted in it) is the same as what is outside of the circle. Everything we need is within – and also outside. They are the same.
I genuinely feel for my friend. She wants and needs some reassurance and feels all alone in that space. Romantic partners can be surprisingly bad at recognizing or anticipating these needs and can be stubborn in their unwillingness to meet these needs. I’ve had someone call me needy – it’s not a nice thing to hear… it deflates your sense of self worth and creates an air of superiority by the one leveling the claim. Unfortunately, this type of thinking has been normalized by our idolization of self-reliance in the business world and in the world of psychology. We, as a culture, can be petty and bitter and take the stance “well, if nobody is going to help me, I’ll just do it myself.” Our nation was founded by a bunch of people who didn’t like the rules and took their toys elsewhere. We are taught to feel ashamed for needing help… and yet love is based on vulnerability and showing your weak spots and recognizing that sometimes you might need a hand.
I wanted to tell my friend all of the things her boyfriend wasn’t saying and all of the things she wasn’t telling herself. It’ll be ok. She’ll be ok. She’s smart and pretty and fun and lovable. It’s ok to need to hear those things from him or from friends or from family. It’s ok to look for ways to prop yourself up. It’s not a sign of weakness if you’re struggling to see it within yourself. Self-confidence is built on the foundation of others showing confidence in us. In education, this is the theory of scaffolding – helping a student build their own knowledge off of previous knowledge. In more basic terms, it’s a little like emotional training wheels. If only briefly, because maybe she wasn’t finding it in all the usual places, I wanted to be her fully loaded Pez dispenser. The anti-poison pill, the pill for super speed, that thing that unleashes her inner fearless four-year-old with the rolled up sleeves and flexed arms and fierce glare telling everyone “look muscles…”