Desire for approval ...normal or addiction?
Addiction ...! A familiar word!
"OH, he is so addicted to his bed tea "
"So sad ...he was so studious. So friendly... now he is addicted to pornography on his tab..."She is a good mother...but she never misses her 9pm serial...she is not bothered what her teenage children do upstairs! "
CAN THERE BE AN ADDICTION TO APPROVAL?
Words of appreciation and gratitude from others is a power packed positive stroke to do more and better. It feels good when another sincerely praises me.
But can there be an addiction to approval? Has disapproval made you angry, dejected and depressed?
I give you two case histories, both real.
(Names and places are changed).
Case one: The harm caused by disapproval lasted till his death.
Case two: The girl was healed by a timely, significant intervention and saved from tragic suicide!
Case 1. He was a young priest. Script of his sermons was always excellent! But he always read his verbatim, eyes fixed on the paper the whole time. A confrere would borrow that script and preach much praised sermons!
When asked why he so glued to the paper, his shared his past story.
"As a student, I was a good speaker. Then as a deacon I preached my 1st sermon in the church. At dinner, another priest, much elder to me, learned and a good friend of mine, remarked in front of all, "What a horrible sermon! Never in my life have I heard so silly and boring one!"
That disapproval... (et tu Brute style?) paralyzed him for life.
Case 2. Let us calk her Shammi!
She was beautiful, sprightly, good in studies, the last one of four children. Her elder siblings were fair, and she was the only one dark skinned. I was a good friend of that family...and I had a soft corner for Shammi. Her elder sister got married and after about two years I got an opportunity to visit them. I held the 1-year-old beautiful baby in my arms and blessed her. But Shammi? Not seen!
She must be in her bedroom. These teens and their tab!" Mother blurted.
I went to her room... knocked and called her.
No reply. Gently pushing the door, I entered. She was sitting on her bed, drooped head. Slowly I sat beside her..."Shammi!" Silent! Softly I placed my hand on her shoulder. She pushed it back! Silence. Both of us.... for almost five minutes. Then she burst out sobbing, first softly and then loudly. I waited...for eternity? Ready!
And then she started speaking, first in whispers mingled with sobs and then clearly and with determination ..." Fr. Mike, I never told you...now I tell you ...before I will have gone...
Ever since my childhood mom had been a mother of disapproval! "Who will marry you?..." She called me black sheep of the family. Not a word of appreciation for my academic and sports achiements! And yesterday she cut my final saw to life.
I like children so much. I rushed to hug my nephew. Fair skinned. My mom screamed to my sister (in our mother tongue) ..."don't allow her to touch the child...her charcoal might disfigure the baby!"
So fr mike, I have decided to commit suicide tonight...don't come on my way and don't speak if I am your favourite ". She showed me the packet of powder.
Slowly...very slowly again I put my hand gently on her shoulder and said," Shammi, I love you"
(May these words etch divinely, in some hearts suffering from disapproval)
She again pushed my hands...but going to the wash basin washed the powder and her gloom down the drain!
She came back and said ..."I want to live!" and gave me the red rose she had planned to....
Thank you all readers who sent me assessment and appreciation !
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