When a parent tells me that their child is an angel or that he or she has never given them trouble … alarm bells go off in my head. Too good to be true is usually just that, too good to be true.
I sat across my 19-year-old client, hearing him say repeatedly, “I want to be a good boy.” I asked him what “good” meant. He said it meant that his mother was happy. I asked him if he felt he could be himself and still have a happy mother. He hesitated and said nothing. After some time, he said he shouldn’t be angry because parents must be respected. I asked him if it was possible to be authentic while being respectful. He looked surprised. It was an unfamiliar model of behaviour.
Parents often don’t realise how children observe their behaviour. Parents may not express disapproval with anger but if they withdraw their love, retreat into silence, are curt, gloss over the issue or trivialise the reality of the child, the child sees it as rejection. He learns to suppress his truth and stay in the good books of his parents. It’s a basic survival tactic as he is physically and emotionally dependent on his parents.
The “Good Child Syndrome” is a well-researched condition where a child tries to meet the parent’s expectations in every way possible. The child wishes to keep the parent’s love at any cost. He/She doesn’t show those parts of themselves that could invite disapproval. As a result, they suppress many emotions, affecting their mental and emotional development.
Many such children grow up to be perfectionists with little tolerance for their failures, are people pleasers, can be shy, have low self-esteem and seek validation from external sources. They can feel they aren’t good enough. These beliefs and coping mechanisms linger throughout their personal and professional lives, hindering their ownership of adulthood.
When we practice the “Metta meditation” which invites us to access “loving kindness” as a gift from the universe, many participants break down. It is an extraordinary experience for them to feel loved without doing something to earn it, without having to be someone who deserves it. After years of being someone they’re not, connecting to who they are opens a floodgate of emotions.
To help my young client, we set the stage for a psychodrama play where he could say what he wanted to his parent. He was hesitant as he began but after a few role reversals (playing the role of himself and his parent), he became more confident. With the support of doubling (voicing the unsaid in him), he could access his anger and hurt, and communicate his real feelings to his parent. The role reversal also helped him understand his parent better, leading to empathy. In the end, the client shared that he could not believe how light he felt. And that he craved to have such a conversation with his parent.
Even though psychodrama plays happen in surplus reality, the somatic experience of the client creates a new behavioural pattern that he can access when a similar situation occurs in real life. Many clients are surprised at how differently they respond to an old situation that overwhelmed them before.
My client is teaching me many lessons as we travel his life journey. I am grateful for the experiential psychodrama process that helps him see what he’s been missing and how he can grow into the amazing person he is.
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