Poor pathetic Peggy. I would have burst out laughing had I been there. I would have had to run away.
We all have our moments of audience-craving, but you must know all these years later, you are nothing like her. Maybe you can thank her for the valuable insight.
It's been a lifelong consideration, trying to understand the narcissism inherent in the drive to perform for people as balanced against the fact that, if you're good at what you do, you're also *serving* people despite the self-involvement that motivates you. Peggy was merely one of the starkest object lessons, but far from the only one. I still see within myself a constant dialectical motion when it comes to being a public performer in any sense--even with regard to these essays I post. ;-)
But thank you for saying I am nothing like her. At the very least I'm certainly blessed/cursed with more self-awareness.
I get it. I also think the majority of us feel need for attention, to be heard; and there are other reasons for it, not always due to narcissism. I have often thought that the causes of an inferiority complex are the same as a superiority complex. For many years I felt inferior because I couldn't articulate or fully express myself - still can't most of the time, but I don't allow it to frustrate me as much anymore. I have little-to-no sense of accomplishment, fulfillment, but I've finally resigned myself that it just ain't in me. What the hell is that?? Weakmindedness maybe. No fire. Blocked creative energy.
I have a very long-time friend, used to be a best friend, but I always felt a love/hate conflict toward her. In conversation, she always talked over me, cut off my chain of thought as I was speaking it. We moved together to the DC area in 1975. We lived in a group house for years. It felt to me like she was always trying to out-do me, sometimes outright belittling me. It was one thing to feel inferior on my own, but when someone else who is supposed to be your friend makes you feel that way, that's something else. I assumed that people like that suffer a superiority complex, but then decided maybe they behave that way because they are afraid of being inferior. Who knows? Life is such a crapshoot. Eventually I got tired of it and very much withdrew. Our paths completely diverged and I am thankful for it.
But then as I navigated into other circles, I found the same thing happening, with a few other women, overpowering me. It was like a magnetic draw. They were beautiful and confident and I was their plain jane tag-along. I reflected often - was it them or was it me? I suppose it takes two to tango. I finally withdrew from it all and now have a very small circle of women friends who do not challenge me that way. I did finally decide though, that my issues then (and now) were the bigger ones. Damn analysis is boring! Yes, self awareness is a blessing and a curse!
Oh, we absolutely need to feel heard. Your friend was not much of a friend. I've had so-called friends like that in the past--jeez, I even had one college friend who would literally turn her back on me at a bar to flirt with a man standing next to her, leaving me alone like an idiot!--but eventually, I learned to avoid such women and such situations entirely. They are mirrors of the abusers who raised me, and we keep attracting those people into our lives until one day we realize what we're doing and learn to read the red flags ahead of time--theirs and our own.
Words like inferiority/superiority complex, narcissism, etc...they can be useful up to a point, but they're just words, and the concepts behind them are slippery, culturally determined, and changeable. Lately, I've stopped trying to diagnose other people's ills, focus on my own self-improvement, and walk away at the first sign of abusive bullshit. Sounds like you have done the same.
But until that moment, it IS a magnetic draw. In fact, I think it's quite literally chemical.
When Peggy pulled the Chandra move, I immediately thought of the Tex Avery cartoon Lonesome Lenny, where the dog tells the squirrel, "Hello, George! Glad to know ya, George! You’re my new little friend, George, my new little friend!"
What an amazing story and so eloquently articulated. Thank you Sandhya. I think maybe we all have a need for attention, at least at some level, but at the same time, we need to let others get their chance to be heard, too. Without a sense of competition.
I have a friend of mine who has a need to be heard. When we’re together, he talks and talks. For quite a long time. But then he asks about what’s been happening on my end or what I think about what he said, and lets me have the floor, and listens. Our conversations take on a different dynamic, a larger, more expansive rhythm than “normal”, but they are indeed a time to share. On first blush, you might think he hogs, but when you step back and view the dynamic from a higher altitude, you see it’s not that at all. It’s the same conversational cycle that we’re accustomed to, but with larger circles.
I love that your articles and your way of expressing get me thinking, it's great. And so thanks again! A lovely piece.
Poor pathetic Peggy. I would have burst out laughing had I been there. I would have had to run away.
We all have our moments of audience-craving, but you must know all these years later, you are nothing like her. Maybe you can thank her for the valuable insight.
It's been a lifelong consideration, trying to understand the narcissism inherent in the drive to perform for people as balanced against the fact that, if you're good at what you do, you're also *serving* people despite the self-involvement that motivates you. Peggy was merely one of the starkest object lessons, but far from the only one. I still see within myself a constant dialectical motion when it comes to being a public performer in any sense--even with regard to these essays I post. ;-)
But thank you for saying I am nothing like her. At the very least I'm certainly blessed/cursed with more self-awareness.
I get it. I also think the majority of us feel need for attention, to be heard; and there are other reasons for it, not always due to narcissism. I have often thought that the causes of an inferiority complex are the same as a superiority complex. For many years I felt inferior because I couldn't articulate or fully express myself - still can't most of the time, but I don't allow it to frustrate me as much anymore. I have little-to-no sense of accomplishment, fulfillment, but I've finally resigned myself that it just ain't in me. What the hell is that?? Weakmindedness maybe. No fire. Blocked creative energy.
I have a very long-time friend, used to be a best friend, but I always felt a love/hate conflict toward her. In conversation, she always talked over me, cut off my chain of thought as I was speaking it. We moved together to the DC area in 1975. We lived in a group house for years. It felt to me like she was always trying to out-do me, sometimes outright belittling me. It was one thing to feel inferior on my own, but when someone else who is supposed to be your friend makes you feel that way, that's something else. I assumed that people like that suffer a superiority complex, but then decided maybe they behave that way because they are afraid of being inferior. Who knows? Life is such a crapshoot. Eventually I got tired of it and very much withdrew. Our paths completely diverged and I am thankful for it.
But then as I navigated into other circles, I found the same thing happening, with a few other women, overpowering me. It was like a magnetic draw. They were beautiful and confident and I was their plain jane tag-along. I reflected often - was it them or was it me? I suppose it takes two to tango. I finally withdrew from it all and now have a very small circle of women friends who do not challenge me that way. I did finally decide though, that my issues then (and now) were the bigger ones. Damn analysis is boring! Yes, self awareness is a blessing and a curse!
Oh, we absolutely need to feel heard. Your friend was not much of a friend. I've had so-called friends like that in the past--jeez, I even had one college friend who would literally turn her back on me at a bar to flirt with a man standing next to her, leaving me alone like an idiot!--but eventually, I learned to avoid such women and such situations entirely. They are mirrors of the abusers who raised me, and we keep attracting those people into our lives until one day we realize what we're doing and learn to read the red flags ahead of time--theirs and our own.
Words like inferiority/superiority complex, narcissism, etc...they can be useful up to a point, but they're just words, and the concepts behind them are slippery, culturally determined, and changeable. Lately, I've stopped trying to diagnose other people's ills, focus on my own self-improvement, and walk away at the first sign of abusive bullshit. Sounds like you have done the same.
But until that moment, it IS a magnetic draw. In fact, I think it's quite literally chemical.
When Peggy pulled the Chandra move, I immediately thought of the Tex Avery cartoon Lonesome Lenny, where the dog tells the squirrel, "Hello, George! Glad to know ya, George! You’re my new little friend, George, my new little friend!"
Steve, hahahaha. Screwy Squirrel, indeed.
What an amazing story and so eloquently articulated. Thank you Sandhya. I think maybe we all have a need for attention, at least at some level, but at the same time, we need to let others get their chance to be heard, too. Without a sense of competition.
I have a friend of mine who has a need to be heard. When we’re together, he talks and talks. For quite a long time. But then he asks about what’s been happening on my end or what I think about what he said, and lets me have the floor, and listens. Our conversations take on a different dynamic, a larger, more expansive rhythm than “normal”, but they are indeed a time to share. On first blush, you might think he hogs, but when you step back and view the dynamic from a higher altitude, you see it’s not that at all. It’s the same conversational cycle that we’re accustomed to, but with larger circles.
I love that your articles and your way of expressing get me thinking, it's great. And so thanks again! A lovely piece.