\u201cMake a good impression\u201d is a lesson we\u2019ve heard since childhood. No matter how rambunctious we were at home, we knew to put our best foot forward when walking out the front door. To be received well is a message that doesn\u2019t get old as we age, either. Whether on a first date, a job interview, or meeting future in-laws, it\u2019s usually a good idea to be mindful of the impression we make in the world.<\/span><\/p>\n

But making a good impression can also be a dependency rather than just a good idea. Receiving the high opinion of others feels great, making it a tempting thing to reach for when we need a boost. We approach praise much like an addiction, craving another hit to feel good and battling self-doubt without a sufficient dose (Is \u2018impressiveness withdrawal\u2019 a thing?). Showing off what we know, where we\u2019ve been, what we\u2019ve done, who we\u2019ve met, how much we\u2019ve produced – are all ways of getting our fix of wowing people. The worst thing, we tell ourselves, is to not be liked enough, and certainly not to be caught without enough likes.<\/span><\/p>\n

If you find yourself somewhere in this description, you are not the only one. Although we intuitively understand that flashing our credentials to reap approval is unbecoming and not aligned with our integrity, we can\u2019t seem to curb our need for acclaim. Why is it so irresistible? What\u2019s really driving our obsession with impression?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAm I ok?\u201d<\/b><\/p>\n

Prevailing theories of why people aim to impress are a lack of confidence or low self-esteem (or both). No doubt this sums it up much of the time. Knowing that people think well of us provides a temporary lift to our deflated egos and damaged self-images, even if only for a short while. In the absence of a positive view of ourselves, it’s tempting to look for one from someone else.<\/span><\/p>\n

But there is another, more subtle driver of our need to be thought well of. We seek the recognition of others because deep down we\u2019re not sure if we\u2019re ok. Like teetering atop an unstable surface, so many of us live with internal shakiness, never fully at ease with ourselves or our standing in the community. Such pervasive insecurity, defined as a sense of deep-seated uncertainty, makes it exceedingly difficult to settle into life. Where self-assuredness and personal sturdiness belong stands the constant vigilance of suspecting that something is wrong with us and everyone knows it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Wanting to be impressive is often about wanting validation, not only of what we\u2019ve done but of who we are. Seeking a positive answer to the question \u201cAm I ok?\u201d signals longing for an affirmation of our being. We desperately want someone to put this question to rest, to stamp us with the assurance that we have a rightful seat at the table of existence no less than anyone else, that we are acceptable in our current state, and that we are adequate to face the demands of life. This hunt for \u201cok-ness\u201d lurks behind many of our attempts to gain approval, because knowing that someone else thinks we\u2019re ok helps us mask the fact that we\u2019re not always sure.<\/span><\/p>\n

Feeling secure<\/b><\/p>\n

Our basic need for security was spelled out by the originators of Attachment Theory, who posited that feeling securely attached to a caregiver is the single most important building block of childhood development. The next time you watch a toddler play, think about what\u2019s going on in his or her world. If the child is lucky, they\u2019re enjoying the freedom to be themselves, made possible by an underlying sense that they are safe in their surroundings and don\u2019t need to worry.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The reassurance of knowing that a caregiver is loosely within reach and available for refuge gives kids the freedom to experience life as it is. To stand on their heads. To experiment with putty. To see how high the tower gets before it topples over. To wonder what happens when they turn the pepper shaker over (Is that just my kids?). To dance, trip, and get up for more. To try reaching for the toy that was put on the shelf so they couldn’t reach it. Growing up in a setting in which children feel safe and protected affords them the space to focus on being kids: learning the world through direct interaction and getting comfortable in their own skin as they do.<\/span><\/p>\n

Securely attached kids don\u2019t need to be told that they are ok; they know it from roaming unencumbered in the presence of caregivers who convey \u201cok-ness.\u201d It is a way of being, a vibe absorbed from a parent that says, \u201cYou\u2019re ok, even if you\u2019re confused, frustrated, or don\u2019t feel good right now. Keep going, you\u2019re going to make it. Whatever happens, I\u2019m right here.\u201d Sometimes this message is communicated through words, sometimes not. \u201cIt\u2019s going to be ok\u201d is the basic message of faith that allows children\u2019s sense of security to take root.<\/span><\/p>\n

Secure adults<\/b><\/p>\n

Feeling secure is not something we learn to live without. While the adult version does have differences, such as the ability to draw from internal (or spiritual) reservoirs of strength as opposed to external reinforcements alone, we carry the fundamental need to feel ok even as grown-ups.<\/span><\/p>\n

Living securely as adults means feeling adequate to show up and handle the demands of life. It requires interacting with the world as ourselves, as opposed to the person we would like others to see us as. Without needing to enhance others\u2019 perceptions, we are content with doing our thing and allowing people to think what they may. More important than impressing our friends is answering to our own conscience. We may enjoy being seen in a positive light, but we view this as a nice addition to our lives, not the essence of it. Having people know of our accomplishments is not nearly as meaningful as living well, and far less enjoyable too. It turns out that experiencing life as it is brings much more pleasure than a hit of impressiveness ever could.<\/span><\/p>\n

The world through a lens of security<\/b><\/p>\n

We want to view the world as a place in which we can operate as ourselves without worry of being shamed or shunned. But the way to achieve this is not through trying to maintain the good grace of others so that our sense of security is never threatened. Propping up acceptability with sticks of praise may keep things looking good for a while. But behind the impressive veneer is often a rickety internal structure that lacks the stability needed to support the pressures of life.<\/span><\/p>\n

Rather, feeling safe in the world stems primarily from internalizing the message that securely attached children soak up – that even when I show up as myself and it doesn\u2019t go well, I\u2019m still ok. I\u2019ll just get up, dust myself off, and try again, because bumps along the way don\u2019t make me nervous. Incorporating security as a way of being lets us drop the showmanship and get busy with living, not being naive to the dangers of the world, but rather feeling confident that we are solid enough to take them on. And usually, that\u2019s enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

In our next post, we\u2019ll explore ways to drop our need to impress and embrace the fact that we\u2019re ok right now. Even if we did not grow up with secure attachments as kids, this fact need not prevent us from becoming secure adults. We can learn to believe in our basic ok-ness, the empowering thought that we\u2019ll make it through this predicament and come out the other side, impressive or not.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cMake a good impression\u201d is a lesson we\u2019ve heard since childhood. No matter how rambunctious we were at home, we knew to put our best foot forward when walking out the front door. To be received well is a message that doesn\u2019t get old as we age, either. Whether on a first date, a job […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-143","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=143"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":152,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/143\/revisions\/152"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=143"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=143"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lessintherapy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=143"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}