The “Too-Good” Paradox

(PLEASE READ UNTIL THE END. YOU’LL GET A LITTLE BIT OF ADDITIONAL INSIGHT)

Some of you might’ve experienced something similar to me. Sometimes when we teach our children something they’ll expose us for the same behavior we taught them to avoid. I know it’s happened to me several times, especially during my healing journey. Feeling and experiencing your own hypocrisy from a child is very humbling. I didn’t always handle it the best, until I became more comfortable with the discomfort. I was raised to believe that questioning adults behavior was disrespectful. Even now, as an adult, I looked at my son’s responses to my behavior the same way. If it hadn’t been for my ex-wife, having a different worldview, and outright exposing my hypocrisy back to me in a kind way, I’d probably still be struggling.

I’m not entirely sure if it’s been addressed by some scholar that’s decades my senior, but I’m calling it the Too-Good Paradox. I grew up with undiagnosed autism and really saw the world in black and white. What my parents had said was truth and nothing but the truth, and as long as I followed it, I’d be alright. Besides, who doesn’t want to do all the things the right way once you learned it? You start work at a new job, aren’t you going to learn how it’s done, and then continue to perform the functions the way you were trained? Obviously, there’s room for improvements, but at a new job you want to show that you can handle the work, and you’ll get it done how they trained you to do it.

That’s how I viewed life. You listen to what you’re told, and everything will be alright. Except, that’s not entirely accurate, primarily because parents aren’t perfect. They aren’t benevolent all knowing beings that are consistent throughout their lives. But when we’re kids, we believe everything they say or do. They’re our first teachers in life, and when they don’t show their vulnerability or that people can make mistakes, we believe they’re infallible. They’re literally entrusted to show us all aspects of life even the imperfect ones. Except, many of us were taught that vulnerability makes you appear weak and that you don’t know what you’re doing. If your child sees your weakness, they’ll try to take advantage of you, and get away with whatever they want. However, there are a lot of assumptions in that statement; primarily, that your child instinctively knows, without prior experience, how to take advantage of someone’s vulnerability. By not revealing our vulnerability or that we as adults make mistakes, we’re cultivating a relationship based on obedience rather than mutual respect.

I recently, like many people, rewatched A Goofy Movie. The character Pete gives Goofy a hard time, because he views Goofy’s parenting style as too passive and that’s why his son is acting up in school. I can still hear Pete say “under your thumb, Goof.” As in, take control of your kid, and make him toe the line. We see this play out for Pete in the scene when they’re camping, and he calls his son up to the roof of their camper to kick over a bowling pin that didn’t fall. His son announces that he’s on his way, “yes sir, coming sir, moving sir!” It seems like his son PJ is such a “good kid” because of his obedience, but you also see PJ’s discomfort.

It’s wild rewatching that movie as an adult. I can clearly see the emotional manipulation Goofy performs when his son Max refuses to go on vacation with him. You can absolutely understand why Max is upset about leaving for a vacation the moment he arrives home, because he had no prior knowledge and had made very important plans with friends. But we’re made to believe that, as the parent, Goofy is right to take his son on a vacation; and Max is then left carrying the dissonance of the injustice he experienced and the weight of the emotional manipulation from his dad. Max feels guilty, but also angry at the same time.

As a kid, I remember watching this movie and being so mad at Max, because it appeared that his father loved him so much and wanted to do what was best. I had no knowledge though that a kid could have any autonomy and respect from a parent. They could be heard and plans could be adjusted, maybe not cancelled, but a compromise could be reached. I also knew the struggle of that emotional burden and wanting your parent to know they’re loved, so that I’m safe to be myself. This is what leads to the Too-Good Paradox, and why the kid is left carrying the weight.

We’re taught that we’re supposed to listen and be obedient, because our parents are infallible and must know everything. Then, we’re taught in those moments of hypocrisy that we shouldn’t question our parents because it’s disrespectful, and parents (authority figures) are always right regardless. So, we’re caught between we have to know the right thing to do all the time, but by doing the right thing, we trigger other people and reveal their inadequacy.

This happened to me a lot when I played softball. I played from the age of 5 to my sophomore year in college. It was my passion and my first love for the entirety of my adolescence. I put so much energy, time and commitment into my performance. I got mad when I didn’t do well and wanted to improve. I went to practice early and left last. I played in different leagues and on different teams for three out of the four seasons in a year (Fall, Spring, Summer). A coaches dream athlete. Honestly, most of the time, I was just doing what was expected out of obedience, and told myself it was passion. Along the line, a coach would do what they should never do and they’d put me on a pedestal and compare the other athletes to me, in front of them and to their faces. (Breaking the fourth wall, but this is where something starts to click.)

I would do what was expected and the grown-ups loved it, but the kids resented me for it, because of how they were made to feel less than due to the comparison. I was faced with this moment of should I keep doing what I love the way I want to, or should I dim myself to make the other players feel better about themselves. I felt this uncomfortable situation where I questioned what I valued more. I didn’t have many friends, so often the peer situation won out. If I had the security and confidence within myself to not be bothered by how other people felt, it would’ve turned out differently. But it takes open and committed parents to instill confidence like that.

I felt this in other areas of my life as well. I felt it in school and was called a goody-goody…

This is where Spirit asked me to pause and eat. I stepped away from the computer, but before I ate, I started writing in my notes app; which is where I do much of my daily writing. Usually, that consists of encountering something in my life and reflecting on it. As I’m writing I’ll also channel Spirit, not necessarily through my words; although, they do come through at times to give more impact with what I’m trying to say. What typically happens is that I’ll begin to get energetic downloads. They’re these tiny little inputs that drop into my awareness as I write, like little twinkling lightbulbs that go off.

As I was flowing and writing this, I began to see something. I wasn’t exactly getting out the message I had originally intended, especially when I went into my softball example. Ironically, or not so, this is how Spirit can use us most often to help ourselves and others: unexpectedly. As I flowed in my writing, it was like Spirit was helping me take a detour. I started to realize how stuck up I sounded. Which is a bit judgmental towards myself, but I was feeling it from my words and how it started to sound a bit petulant. I edited some of what I wrote that I didn’t think sounded the best, but stopped when Spirit asked me to. I decided to keep the rest in. I wanted to show what it looks like to have some form of practice, or creativity, that Spirit can work through. I also wanted to show how imperfect I am.

This message really began to show how I struggle with accepting that vulnerability I started this post with. It all became more clear as I wrote in my notes app about how my little brother and I grappled with asserting our own control under a very controlling parent. My brother was very external with his attempts at control, as in he’d act out or do something because he felt like it. I always judged him for it. I thought that if he’d just follow the rules, then he’d stop getting in so much trouble. Why couldn’t he get with the program?

Turns out, I was very internal with my control issues. Doing everything I could to toe that line and stay within good graces. I was perfectly obedient, because it was safe and I was loved. That’s why the first portion of this entry gives off a feeling of “know-it-all” or “goody-goody,” because I’m sure it does. It came from a place of my understanding of obedience = love and acceptance. I also excelled in the Army because I was such a “good soldier.” I wasn’t perfect. I overslept a few times, but for the most part, I kept my nose down and did exactly what I was told.

I remember the first time I realized the Army wasn’t quite what I expected, I was in basic training. We were about 2 weeks or so from graduating, and our platoon ended up getting a new drill sergeant. He was relaxed and not very harsh. We were in formation one day standing at parade-rest. This means that a soldier is to stand still with their hands behind their back. We hadn’t been given the order “rest,” which means you can stand loosely and talk a little bit but keep your hands behind your back so that there’s some semblance of order. Since we hadn’t been given the order I stood there at parade-rest while everyone was chatting and loose. This new drill sergeant walks by and calls me a robot. At first I was miffed, but then I realized “oh, this isn’t as serious as I thought.” But I still looked down on and judged everyone else for not “following the rules.”

I was really excellent at being obedient, but I didn’t know how to be forgiving. I knew that people made mistakes and could be forgiven, but I’d probably still judge them. I remember the D.A.R.E. program that influenced how I viewed people that were addicts. “Just say no,” it’s a simple rule. You know what’ll happen to you if you do drugs, just don’t do them. That black and white thinking. I didn’t know how to be forgiving, because I didn’t know what forgiving myself looked like. As someone who exerted their control inwardly on themselves, I was precise with how I carried myself to make sure I didn’t overstep or show that vulnerability of making mistakes. So when I did make one, there were no excuses. I knew the rules and I should’ve known better.

That’s what parenting looks like for many. We were raised by parents who were raised by their parents that obedience is the best path, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. All of which can be attributed back to the macrocosm, or a larger scale, like society as a whole. Tracing it back to religion and how people in power controlled the masses through the wrath of God. The fact of the matter is, obedience does not mean love. Just because your child is obedient, doesn’t mean they respect you, love you, or care about you. It also doesn’t mean they are following the rules. Instead, they might’ve learned how to hide their mistakes from you. Most of the time, obedience means they fear you.

I still remember how uncomfortable I felt when my son listed off all the things he expected me to critique as soon as I walked in the door. We didn’t exchange “hello’s” or “how are you’s,” because when I walked into a room it meant I was going to tell him to do something or check something he should’ve done. It was devoid of love and focused on obedience. That’s also why I developed so much resentment towards him when he was younger.

Not only was I immature, but I also made the primary focus of our relationship on obedience and responsibility over love. He was supposed to follow the rules, so my own inner child felt safe. He needed to be responsible, so I didn’t have to be responsible for everything he does. But that mentality was just passing down the concept of obedience; which helped build that resentment, because he wasn’t the best at following the rules like I was. “It’s easy, why don’t you get this?” Then, I’m bashing my head against the wall repeating and nagging him until bedtime. We were both miserable!

I learned later, after healing, that a loving relationship makes room for mistakes, makes room for messed up routines and missed school days. I can forgive him, because I can now forgive myself. I don’t have to follow all the rules and the bedtimes, because I’m safe enough within to allow leeway. When we can be more tolerant, forgiving and own up to our mistakes, we can open ourselves up to our children instead of shutting them down and out. Love is vulnerability.

It turns out, the Too-Good Paradox only exists when you’re wrapped up in obedience, because on the other side it’s all about love in full expression.