{"id":24602,"date":"2018-06-01T23:49:13","date_gmt":"2018-06-02T04:49:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.davidmcelroy.org\/?p=24602"},"modified":"2018-06-02T00:30:39","modified_gmt":"2018-06-02T05:30:39","slug":"desperate-need-to-be-special-drives-me-to-try-to-matter-to-those-i-love","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/?p=24602","title":{"rendered":"Desperate need to be special drives me to try to matter to those I love"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>The box of detergent weighed as much as I did. Maybe more. But I wanted to help bring the groceries from the car, so I picked the biggest box.<\/p>\n

I wanted to help. I wanted for my parents to praise me. I wanted to be special.<\/em><\/p>\n

The memory is hazy. I had never helped bring groceries in — I was maybe 2 or 3 — but I decided I was ready. I don’t think I even told either of my parents.\u00a0I just started trying to drag that big box toward the house.<\/p>\n

After I dragged it a little way — and realized it was too heavy — I went to get my wagon. I was struggling to get it into the wagon when my parents found me (and Mother made this picture).<\/p>\n

I didn’t understand my motivations at that age. I was acting purely on instinct. But as I look at my life — my patterns of the past and my inner desires today — I’m faced with the inescapable conclusion that I’ve always been desperate to be special to someone.<\/p>\n

In the earlier parts of my life, I found ways to feel special. I learned to gain my father’s praise and approval through lavish devotion and instant obedience. I learned to gain the praise and adoration of my teachers at school through perfect behavior and academic performance that went far beyond what they expected. Even at church, I found ways to curry favor with leaders and get attention that made me feel special.<\/p>\n

I didn’t doubt that I was special back then. I expected to do great things. I expected things which I would now call grandiose, in fact. In my mind, there was an explicit link between my self-worth and all of the fantastic things I would do. That’s what I thought make me worth something.<\/p>\n

I excelled at anything I put my mind to, but I understand in hindsight that I wasn’t really driven to do things I loved. Instead, I was driven to do things which would give me praise. I did things which made me feel special — which fed the broken inner core which was being damaged by the ways in which I was being treated at home.<\/p>\n

No matter what I did — no matter how much I thought I achieved to be special — it was never enough to fill the void I felt because of my internal emotional damage. I didn’t realize that at the time. I just knew I was driven to keep pushing forward toward greatness. When I was given recognition for the great things I would do, I would finally feel special. I would finally feel loved.<\/em><\/p>\n

When I was a young journalist, I had a lot of pride in being the youngest managing editor of a daily newspaper in the country. I expected quick recognition which didn’t come. I expected people to immediately hail me as great. I understand now that I didn’t give it time to come. I expected to walk into the industry and be hailed as a great genius from the first day. When that didn’t happen, I moved on to other things.<\/p>\n

For years, I tried schemes which I see now as a desperate attempt to find artificial greatness.<\/p>\n

I thought I would build a chain of newspapers that would be great and profitable. Then I thought about building a chain of local cable news operations. There were half a dozen business ideas that I considered and discarded — and all of them were unconsciously designed to make the world see how special I was.<\/p>\n

When I was a teen-ager, I was convinced I was going to be president of the United States. I didn’t see it as a wish or hope. I was absolutely dead set on this. Then people would know I was great. They would know I was special. I even had a timeline by which I was supposed to be elected president by the time I was 36. (I would have to be 35 to be eligible to run and I wanted to be elected before I was 43, which was John F. Kennedy’s age when he was the youngest man elected president.)<\/p>\n

When I was in my 30s, I started thinking seriously about politics again. That was one of my big motivations for starting to work in politics. I thought it would be my path to elected office — and then to being president. I wanted people to see me as great. I wanted to be special.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t until about 10 or 12 years ago when I realized the serious psychological issues with my underlying motivations in life. When a psychologist introduced me to narcissistic personality disorder — and explained that was my father’s issue — I started to recognize things in myself which were painfully similar to what my father had been.<\/p>\n

As I’ve said before, that was the point at which I knew I had to make a serious decision. I had to either change my motivations and my thinking or else I was going to end up more and more like my father.<\/p>\n

Children of narcissists frequently become narcissists themselves — and they’re often the last to know. One of the defining characteristics of narcissism is the grandiose thinking which leads narcissists to believe they are great and should be recognized as special.<\/p>\n

Since I recognized this in my father — and developed serious fears about myself — I’ve had to go through many changes. I’ve talked about some of those before. One of the biggest changes I’ve had to accept is that I wasn’t necessarily destined for greatness. I was not suddenly going to be recognized as special and given accolades on a silver platter.<\/p>\n

In the days when I felt special — and expected greatness just for showing up — I felt incredible confidence. I felt that it was just a matter of time before I was recognized as great. The world was going to wake up and give me honor and praise and power and position. That semi-conscious fantasy is embarrassing to me today, but faith in that fantasy gave me total confidence back then.<\/p>\n

It’s taken me a long time to realize it, but I’m still struggling to be special — but I’ve radically changed my standards and my expectations about what that means.<\/p>\n

Back then, I wanted my ego fed with praise and adoration. I wanted to be seen as great. I wanted to be on a pedestal above other people.<\/p>\n

Today, I want to be seen as special because of the things I achieve — and for the ways in which I love.<\/em><\/p>\n

I’m not going to change the world. I’m not even going to change this country. All I really want now is the chance to change the lives of my future wife and children through love and providing them with the things they need. I want to make art that I’m proud of. I want to have my work loved and understood. I want to make myself worthy of being loved as special.<\/p>\n

I miss the unbridled confidence that I once had that I was great and special. That confidence was useful to me, but it was ultimately brittle and empty.<\/p>\n

What I experience today is far more vulnerable. I’m far more aware of my emotional needs than I ever have been. I remain damaged by the same things that damaged me as a child and took me down blind alleys as an adult. I didn’t want to admit back then that I needed help. Now, I see my willingness to ask for help — to ask for love and understanding — as a sign of growth and strength.<\/p>\n

I’m still driven to do things for people which will win their approval. I’m especially driven by serve the needs and desires of those I love. It’s a remaining side effect of the patterns I learned by growing up with a narcissist.<\/p>\n

I want to feel special again, but I want it to be the real thing instead of a grandiose fantasy. I want someone to think I’m special, but I want her to believe that because she needs the love I want to give her and she needs the things I want to do for her. I want to feel special to children, not because I make them fear me enough to obey me, but because I’ve earned their respect by helping to guide them in their own development as the best human beings they can become.<\/p>\n

My old desire to be special was a dysfunctional result of the way I was raised. I’ve spent a lot of time unlearning that way of thinking and rejecting that grandiosity.<\/p>\n

My new desire to be special is far simpler and far healthier. I just want to be special to someone because of the way I love her and for the quality of parenting our children.<\/p>\n

My need is just as deep as it’s ever been, but this one is a healthier need. I want to be special because I know how to show genuine love — and love is the most powerful medicine that any of us has ever known.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The box of detergent weighed as much as I did. Maybe more. But I wanted to help bring the groceries from the car, so I picked the biggest box. I wanted to help. I wanted for my parents to praise me. I wanted to be special. The memory is hazy. I had never helped bring Keep Reading<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-24602","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1x9iR-6oO","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24602","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=24602"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24602\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":24615,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24602\/revisions\/24615"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=24602"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=24602"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/davidmcelroy.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=24602"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}