I want you to agree with me

I want you to agree with me. I desperately want you to agree with me. I want you to see me, hear me, acknowledge me, and appreciate me. While I am at it, I might as well say that I want you to praise me. I want you to praise me for what I do, for what I think, and for who I am. Why? Because I want to believe that I did the right thing and made the right choices.

What happens when you don’t agree with me or express an opinion that doesn’t match mine? I will feel that I didn’t do it right. Or rather, in most cases, I won’t consciously feel that way. Instead, my first line of defense kicks in, which makes me want to shout: “What do you mean, I didn’t do it right? You didn’t do it right!” When I acknowledge my feelings and do not automatically slip into my primary reaction of pointing the finger at you, I realize what purpose my defense mechanism serves. It protects me from feeling that I made a mistake. But why do I want to be protected from that feeling?

The mere suggestion that I did something wrong terrifies me. It directly relates to my belief that I can’t do it right—I can never do it right. Experiencing that belief feels awful. Seeing that belief confirmed is even worse. I would rather become frustrated and angry with you. I would rather shout and point the finger at you than be confronted with my belief that I can’t do it right. Why does the idea that I can’t do anything right feel so bad? Can’t I see it is an illusion? I am doing some things right, right?

Believing that I can’t do it right is just a diversion. There is a layer behind it, which whispers I am not good enough. Not feeling good enough is even more distressing than believing that I can’t do anything right. So, when you give me the slightest reason to think I made a mistake, feeling that I did something wrong isn’t the core issue. The idea that I can’t do anything right isn’t what is truly bothering me. No, I feel like I am the problem. I feel inadequate and insufficient. I feel like I am not good enough. That is a feeling I want to avoid at all costs.

As you might expect, I do not often consciously feel inadequate. My defense mechanism of blaming you filters out most threatening situations. Behind this trench stands the belief that I can’t do it right. Even if going there feels terrible, I prefer it over feeling that I am not good enough. But we are not quite there yet.

I can see a layer behind feeling insufficient that I practically never reach in daily life. Even when I get there, I barely touch it. That layer, which I currently perceive as my core belief, goes by the name “I am no good.” The idea that I am not good enough still allows for improvements. There is no nuance in being no good, however. At this level, I feel inherently bad. I do not feel loved, and I am convinced I am not worthy of love. I even believe I am not lovable. So, when we seemingly disagree with each other, a chain reaction starts in me. Most of the time, it won’t penetrate all the layers of my psyche. During vulnerable moments, it will, and I will feel very bad about myself.

Looking outward for an escape from this feeling, I want you to agree with me. I need you to confirm my opinions and support the decisions I made. I am begging you to tell me I didn’t do anything wrong. Because my deep-seated beliefs will probably prevent me from believing you, I want you to take another step and say I am good enough. Ultimately, I would like you to tell me I am okay, I am good.

It’s quite unlikely that I will accept what you say, though. It is your word against mine. Your efforts face the brick wall of my beliefs. So, can I propose another solution? Let’s agree that you do not overtly disagree with me. Let me believe that we agree with each other. Allow me to think we have a similar view of life. Please, do not challenge or provoke me. But that won’t work either, will it? You and I aren’t alone. Asking you to agree with me is one thing. Expecting everyone else to do the same is another.

Rather than looking at you, wanting you to soothe my pain, I will look inward and continue the digging that has brought me here. You can support me, though. Please disagree with me, even if I might become angry with you. Please challenge me, realizing I will sometimes hurt. Please give me as much of an opportunity to change, heal, and grow as you and I can handle.