Sara Deacon

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Comfortable Lies

Do you like me?

Every time I put some new content online, I’m asking this question. Do you like me? Do you think I’m smart? Do you think I’m knowledgeable? Can you relate? Do you find me valuable? Am I worthy?

What I would like to say instead is, “Here I am.”

If you’re anything like me, you tie your identity to several different things, including feelings. I am lonely. I am happy. I am my job title. I am my brand. I am my net worth. I am my relationship. I am the role that I play. 

In those identity statements, we seek belonging, purpose and value. Am I good enough to be part of this group? Am I valuable enough to get promoted or not to get fired? Am I really happy?

In my head, I know that each of these statements, fears and others like them is a lie. My value isn’t tied to any of the roles I play, to things I accomplish or to how I feel. And yet, I can’t count how many times each day I look to outside sources to confirm that what I believe about myself (or want to believe) is true. I do this because it’s easier and more comfortable than confronting the idea that I could be enough without any other qualification than the mere fact that I am. I exist.

Do you believe what you say about yourself? Do you believe what you think about yourself? Do you believe what other people say or think about you? What’s true?

My son often shows me something he’s done and asks, “Did I do a good job on this?”

He doesn’t ask, “What do you think?”

He wants to hear, “Yes, you did a good job.”

What would happen if I said, “No”? Or even, “Well, actually…”?

What would it mean to him? What would it mean about him as a person if he didn’t “do a good job”?

We all want to do well in the activities we choose to pursue. We forget that doing well isn’t always the point. Sometimes the point is to figure out what doesn’t work. Sometimes the struggle is the point because we learn something there about ourselves. Sometimes we get exposed to something that’s a better fit for us in the process of badly doing something that doesn’t fit at all. Doing well isn’t always the point.

Just because you might not be good at something doesn’t mean it isn’t good for you to be. 

I’ve tried to raise my children with an emphasis on curiosity, effort and exploration. I’ve praised their hard work and specific choices over outcomes and awards as much as possible. I’ve offered them lessons in perseverance and self-discipline and held them in unconditional love to the best of my ability. 

But no matter how hard we parents try, the world will always value the high score, the metrics, the appearances, the riches or the fame. These messages tell our children that they’re no “good” if they don’t measure up to some impossible standard or another. These messages have influenced us all, to some extent, and we continue to search for validation and meaning somewhere “out there.”

What am I really looking for when I ask, “Do you like me?”

What is my son looking for when he asks, “Did I do a good job?”

We’re asking to be seen, heard, loved and valued. Not just for the one performance, but for who we really are. We are asking if we are worthy to exist in this place and time. We are asking if we are on track to a meaningful life. We are wondering where we fit in such a vast and crowded universe.

When I work with teenagers, they are often seeking external validation in this way. They wonder if they can be “good” people even if they do or experience “bad” things. They ask questions about where they belong if they find themselves released from an identity that used to define them. They struggle with restlessness about the stories attached to their accomplishments or futures.

As most adults have learned, what we accomplish can be meaningful, and it is also temporary. This is why musicians continue to write new songs after winning a Grammy. It’s why authors start working on the next book before the first has shipped. It’s why we have infinite streaming content from all over the world at our fingertips. All the things we do, make or have can never provide an enduring sense of peace, no matter how many times we tell ourselves that it will.

It’s comfortable to look to other people to define us or bestow value or worthiness upon us. That’s what everyone else is doing. It’s what social media and advertising and rewards and punishments have all conditioned us to do. It’s expected. It’s common. But it’s empty. It’s fleeting.

For myself and my clients, the goal is to change the story that my value is determined by the grades I get, the team I’m on, the friends I have or the work that I do. As a follower of Jesus, I believe that I am valuable simply because I am how God made me to be and because Jesus paid the highest price of all to love me. If you do not have the same faith as I do, you are still a miracle just because you exist, and hopefully your beliefs about where you came from reinforce this truth. We are human beings. Being is more important than doing, feeling or perceiving. 

Most of this work begins with awareness. How am I attaching my identity to what’s outside myself? What story am I telling? Is it serving me? The next step is to challenge the story by asking if it’s true. Most of the things we believe aren’t as true as they seem when they’re put to the test. The third step is to give ourselves what we’re seeking from the outside world: comfort, protection, validation, motivation, etc.

When my son asks me, “Did I do a good job?” I don’t always say yes. Before you call me a “bad mom,” here’s what I might say instead:

  • What do you think about it?

  • What do you like about it?

  • Are there any changes you would make?

  • What inspired you?

  • Is this a stand-alone exercise or part of a bigger project?

  • I might comment on a particularly skillful detail.

  • I’ll share an observation about his improvement since the last time he attempted something similar.

By changing the emphasis from a “good job,” which is ultimately meaningless, I help him connect to his own assessment of his performance so that he learns to trust himself to know what’s working and what’s not. I allow him to see that even if something isn’t working out how he wanted it to, it’s not that he did a “bad job” or that he himself is no good. The point is to help him find his own way to competence, autonomy and connection that doesn’t lead to arrogance or people-pleasing. It’s not always a quick or comfortable response, and I’m okay with that.

We all have the tendency to want to outsource our own significance at times, believe what we think, feel or hear from someone else. How does this show up for you?

Can you be a good person without your accomplishments?

Can you be good just by being you?


Want more on this topic? You might like this episode of the Martial Arts & Crafts Podcast:

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