Approval

Since I was very small, I have loved to be a teacher's pet. I crave approval and attention, and I try my hardest to be the best, the smartest, the most adorable, just for that tiny taste of recognition from someone else.

My mom was our girl scout troop leader when I was eight, and I remember she told me that she wasn't going to give me any special privileges because I was her daughter--she planned to treat me like any other girl in the troop. Once when she asked us all a question, I raised my hand, excited to know the answer and excited to be called upon, but mom stood her ground, and let someone else answer the question. I remember feeling crushed--I knew the answer, and she KNEW that I knew it, and even though I remembered her saying that I was just one of the group, I still felt like she should have picked me.

In fifth grade I had a friend named Sarah, who was cool and popular and funny. I'm not sure why we were friends to begin with--I think her mother was our real estate agent when we moved to North Carolina when I was nine. One day, out on the playground, Sarah told me we were going to play a joke on another girl. We were going to wear our sleeves in a really weird way, and tell this girl it was the new style, so that every time she did it, we could laugh at how dumb she was.

I personally thought this was a ridiculous idea, and that the girl was way too smart to fall for something like that, but I went along with it. "DO NOT tell her this is just a joke," Sarah said to me. The charade went along--Sarah wheeling and dealing, trying to convince this girl she knew what was all the rage on the playground these days. The girl was having none of it, and finally said she didn't care and turned to walk away. Sarah watched her for a moment, then turned around and slapped me hard in the face.

I just stood there and looked at her, stunned. "Why did you DO that?" I said, hand to my stinging face.

"You were thinking about telling her the truth," Sarah said in a vicious voice. That was true--I just wanted the whole rouse to be over with so we could go and play. I didn't get mad, though--I stared at her, then we went back in to our class, and I forgave her and forgot about it.

I still search for approval, and I'm almost 30. I want my bosses to think I'm smart and a hard worker. I want my friends to think I'm funny. I want my family to think I make good choices. Sometimes I feel like I make wrong choices, simply because they are what someone expects of me.

Where does this need for approval come from? Obviously I can remember it as far back as girl scout troop meetings, early elementary school days. Is it bad to want approval, or praise? What if I didn't care what anyone thought--I think that would make me dispassionate and listless. As it is, I worry not only what people will think of me for every step I take, but I also worry that other people don't feel praised enough, so I dish it out like ice cream. I don't want to lose the ability to make people feel good about themselves--it makes ME feel good to smile at the people who think no one is watching, or to praise or compliment a friend in a very honest way. If I didn't care what people thought, would I have that same compassion?

I don't think craving approval is bad, unless it starts to interfere with your life. For some people it might seem easy to be truly honest and say what you think, and live your life with your own purpose, but for me, it's hard, and I still struggle with the balance between needing that approval and being self-sufficient and uncaring of the world's opinion.